[X] My Assistant

[Kamaitachi]

"Agent Kaipo, we've an urgent situation."

"Of course, Captain Blabberface." A young teen sighed into his cell phone. He'd just sat down at a bar with his incredibly passable fake Id, and was not in the mood to be summoned by his superior officer. The irritated voice of Lennox, a Magma Elite and Kanoa's superior, practically screamed through his speakers. Batting at a strand of long dark hair that poked out from under his pullover cap, he listened idly to the older man rant on the phone.

"For the last time, Kaipo, refer to me by my name, or rank, or just sir! Show some deference, man. You're in the proud ranks of Magma, so you'd better act like it!"

Rolling his eyes, Kanoa mouthed: "Thanks Corporal Blah-Blah" before audibly voicing: "Yes, sir."

"We've intel on a pair of defectors heading into your sector. Rendez vous with the two other Magma agents we've contacted at the corner of 9th and Bridge, in front of the Pokemart. Your objective is to retrieve the two deserters by any means necessary. Comb the area for any sight of the two. When you detain them, contact me for exfil. They should be within your A.O. within the hour."

"Why not send a real squad after them?"

"They've given them the slip. You and your two cohorts will be in civvies, so as to remain fairly undetected."

"Who're we looking for?"

"Tango 1: Paul LeBaron, callsign: Ogre. He's 5'11, 182, Black Hair, Grey eyes. Tango 2: Devon LeBaron, callsign: Turbo. He's 5'8", 140lbs, Brown hair and blue eyes. The two of them were spotted wearing fairly nondescript clothes. At last sighting, they were wearing black hoodies and jeans, each. Do not let them reach the docks. Neutralize any hostiles on sight."

"Roger that" Kanoa groaned slowly as he rose from his seat, grumpy at not having placed an order. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, happy that he'd kept his gear in there. "Do I get a cool callsign?"

"We've designated you 'Rascal'."

"Hey, that's pretty coo-"

"Get to work, Agent Rascal." Kanoa could've sworn he 'heard' Lennox's smirk on the other side of the line. The teen was growing increasingly tired of his irksome and rather smug superior officer, and briefly wondered whether or not a transfer was possible. "Lennox out."

"Bye bye, General Turdbucket."

As he stepped out of the bar and into the street, he took a moment to notice the signs on the lamp post next to him. In plain letters, and lit by the bright street-light, he read: "9th" and "Bridge" respectively. Caddy corner to his location, he noted the Pokemart in question and shrugged. That was possibly the easiest trip to any location he'd ever taken on a mission.

As he strolled lazily across the street, he slipped his hands into the backpack, pulling out a pair of fingerless gloves with metal plates. Upon reaching the pokemart, he dipped down and grabbed a few more items. Taking off his shirt for the moment, he slipped into a protective vest (Kevlar? Lennox had called it something like that), followed by some elbow pads. He slipped his tee-shirt and hoodie back over top. Taking off his already fairly heavy, steel-toed boots, he slipped on a pair of shin guards that came up to his knee, protecting his legs as well before slipping his boots back on.

Once all preparations were complete, he felt a bit bulky, but Lennox had suggested he train in something called "CQC", which for the life of him, he couldn't remember what those letters stood for. The training involved him running around and falling down a lot, hence the protective equipment. Checking his belt to make sure that the pokeballs were still all there (he hadn't quite gotten used to counting 5 pokeballs), he slung his backpack back over his shoulder and waited patiently for the other two agents to arrive.