Albert Rosenfield

[The video here opens with a shot of Albert's lab, rendered sideways and slightly covered in drool, as viewed from somewhere vaguely floor-level — which would lead to the logical conclusion that the Gear must've come on as a result of Gandhina fetching it, and it's just been deposited at its current vantage point courtesy of its shaggy, overenthusiastic courier.

Albert, at least, doesn't seem to have noticed he's being filmed; he's busy crouching a short distance away, fiddling with something that the camera angle can't quite make out.]

All right, you little bouncy pig, let's see how you're doing.

[He proceeds to shuffle around with something, accompanied by the occasional squeaky oink of what is presumably the aforementioned bouncy pig in question; meanwhile, Gandhina's shaggy nose appears on camera, cheerfully depositing what look like a couple of Ping-Pong-ball-sized Pokeballs near the Gear before disappearing again.]

Looks good...looks okay...yeah. Okay. Ready to get mobile again? Yeah, I know, this is asking a lot of a pig so phenomenally stupid from a basic evolutionary standpoint, but let's shoot for the stars here, huh? All right, get your little...hand over there...damn, it's not long enough. Impy, go get a couple of popsicle sticks out of the kitchen —

[Gandhina's nose reappears again; more of the balls are deposited. A few seconds later, a Sableye appears with the requested popsicle sticks and hands them over, and now the sound of ripping tape can be heard.]

Better? Good. Then we'll just get you secured...

[More ripping tape; more eager oinking.]

There. All right, go on, you little pipsqueak.

[And with that, Albert gets to his feet, unintentionally unveiling — what appears to be a Spoink with its little chest wrapped in bandages, seated comfortably in a little chair and harness apparatus, which is in turn secured to the top of a brightly-colored RC car with big rubber treads. The controller, in turn, is secured in front of the chair and harness in about the place that a steering wheel would be, and the joystick controls now have popsicle sticks affixed to them, putting them in reach of the Spoink's tiny arms.

After a moment of fumbling, the Spoink manages to get one of the levers pushed forward, and the car whirs to life, driving forward and jerking to a stop about a foot ahead of its previous position. It tries again; after a few similar false starts, the electric whine picks up and the RC car hurtles out of sight, taking one exceedingly delighted Spoink with it.]

That's gonna get real obnoxious real fast. ...Ah, hell. It's still better than having it bounce all over the damn place. Who the hell comes up with — hmph. At least it looks like the pacemaker's doing its job.

[He turns around, apparently about to get back to work on his next project, and as Gandhina's nose reappears for a third time, suddenly Albert takes notice of her handiwork.]

...Dammit, Gandhina, did you fetch every one in the damn yard?!

[And as a pair of happy puppy jaws close over the Gear, the video ends.]


[OOC: I can't believe I am actually writing this sentence but Spoink lifesaving pacemaker installation is mod-approved. Action for anyone on the Justice Farm is, as always, welcome. o/]

( Filtered to Federal Agents - Dale Cooper, Gordon Cole, Spencer Reid, and Ziva David )

~

[The voice on the audio here is rapid and succinct — Albert in his natural state.]

Three things. Number one, I thought the special-delivery egg thing was bad enough, but now it looks like we've graduated into the post-hatched ones, too. Let me make this clear: this is not a foster home. So if you're one of the dunderheads whose animal went missing lately, I'd suggest you make getting your butt down to the lost and found a priority right about now. There's a couple here that might be yours, and I'm not planning on playing babysitter forever.

Number two: For anybody looking to make a quick buck, you find me one of these things —


— and we'll talk bounty for it.

And number three: while I realize this is asking a lot of a world where the application of physics itself occasionally depends on whether or not you've got a piece of plastic clipped to your coat, is it even possible to get an actual turkey around here, or am I going to have to go make do with serving up some kind of fire chicken or psychic goose next week?

( Off-Network | Current Contents of Albert Rosenfield's Briefcase )

~
[It's afternoon waning toward evening in Saffron City, and at the moment Albert Rosenfield can be found in one of the city's small Pokemon parks, a briefcase stowed securely on a nearby bench and a pink rubber ball in one hand. With him today are his Scyther, obediently hovering near the bench and briefcase like a good underling, and his Poochyena, who appears to be more interested in the ball than anything else.

Albert, meanwhile, is spending the majority of his time giving the ball a series of thoughtful squeezes in his hand while he thinks, but occasionally rears back and lets it fly in a surprisingly graceful arc — at which point Gandhina unfailingly tears off after it, paws scrabbling at the grass and dirt as she hurtles off into the distance to retrieve her toy.]

The problem isn't going to be isolating it, it's going to be getting it to stick around long enough to do any good. However those mushrooms came about, evolution or divine design, you've got to give them some credit — we're looking at pretty nasty stuff here. Direct contact ought to be the easier of the two to handle, once we come up some way of making the neutralizing agent stick. Respiratory...unless you've got any bright ideas, we're gonna need a mask.

[At this point, Gandhina comes charging back with a now-somewhat-slobbery ball in her teeth, and Albert crouches down to retrieve it from her, but sets it aside and stays down to examine her adorable puppy muzzle and jowls.]

Hold still, you dumb mutt — you know, I was going to say it'd be a problem to cut off the use of your jaws with a rig like that, but anything that keeps you from picking up everything under the sun —

[Pleased by the attention and presuming these words of her master's are praise, Gandhina's tail is wagging at about a mile a minute.]

Dummy, grab the tape measure and toss it over here. Not the easiest task in the world without a set of opposable thumbs, I know, but hey, you're a bright bug, I'm sure you're up to the challenge.

[And then, as a Scyther leans over to retrieve the aforementioned tape measure, he abruptly notices that the Gear is on and quickly — and probably a little guiltily — shuts it off.]

~
[Later, a more intentional bit of commentary from Albert hits the network.]

So whose bright idea was it to hide all the tolerable cities on the other end of a six-hour train ride? Skyscrapers, business districts, a concert hall. Five minutes out of the station and I'd already counted eight coffee peddlers.

Now all that's left is to turn a corner and come across a bakery selling thirty-one flavors of pie, and by golly, we'll have ourselves the makings of heaven here.

[It's a lovely afternoon on Route 38, just outside of Ecruteak City, and Albert Rosenfield is On A Mission. (All right, well, technically he's on two missions, but he's pretending it's only one mission because the other mission involves being a dogwalker for Coop's Houndour and his own Poochyena, and come on, that's just beneath him, do you know how many degrees he has.) In the week and a half he's spent thus far in Johto, he's read the literature and gotten the relevant explanations from a source he's inclined to trust as reliable, unbelievable though they may be, and so today he's out on the route to investigate the local plant life.

The Gear feed is mostly picking up up-close shots of various shrubs and berries, occasionally directed by a hand covered in a latex glove; it appears Albert is using his Gear's video function as a means of documenting the things he's finding, and every so often he'll snap off a small branch or twist off a berry and deposit it into a plastic baggie for later investigation.

Which is great, except that while he's busy examining shrubs, his Poochyena is currently bounding into the tall grass, having just spotted a wild Paras shuffling along minding its own business. Curious, she gives it a few pokes with its nose, which the Paras only tolerates momentarily before attempting to bid a hasty, skittering retreat from the sudden invasive prodding of this wolfdog in its midst. But Gandhina is having none of that, and after following it a few steps with continued, mounting curiosity, she finally darts down and snaps it up in her jaws, intent on proudly carrying it over to her trainer to show him what she's just found.

The Paras, naturally, does not take kindly to this.

A moment later, a cloud of Poison Powder erupts into the air.]

— The hell?!

[Granted, Albert may not instantly recognize what this cloud is, but he is at least sensible enough to realize that it's probably not something he really wants to be breathing. Ever rational, he prudently covers his nose and mouth and starts bidding a hasty retreat; Gandhina, on the other hand, begins whimpering and struggling but continues holding bravely on while the Paras, still locked in her teeth, starts to wriggle and scratch as it tries to get free.]

Gandhina, drop it!

[But fortunately for Gandhina, Albert isn't the only observer on the scene, and now it's Sheriff's turn to leap into action: first with a sharp, forceful bark that finally seems to shake Gandhina out of her (now poisoned) haze and makes her release the Paras, and then with a well-placed jet of fire that, being ridiculously super-effective against the offending Bug/Grass type, proceeds to drop it like a bad habit.

A moment later, the video goes dark as the Gear is hastily shoved into a pocket, and Albert's muttered cursing can be faintly heard in the moments just before the feed finally switches off.]