Combat

I want to wish you good luck, and am sure yo'll do great with it. Also congratulations to your brother! My only advice, is to just keep breathing. Deep breathing helps me a lot when I get stressed and/or worried. Also, it might be worth seeing if there;s going to be a "practice" run, as I hear some people do them before their weddings. Practice can't hurt.

Happy Birthday!

I feel obliged to show off this little gem of a remix.

Casuals. Real men don't need to tie their shoes... Because their shoes conform to their feet!

Hello! Welcome to Reborn!

Welcome Alistair, welcome to Reborn! There's a little bit of everything for everyone here, so I hope you enjoy your stay!

Using an electric type should help, I had no trouble using a Manectric You could also cheese it and use a Destiny Bond/Perish Song Pokemon if you're really having problems.

Thank you for your positive and negative feedback! This story is ripe with misspellings and grammatical issue, since it wasn't heavily edited. I probably went a little adjective crazy in this story, and in hindsight, it did have a lot of "extra words," so thank you for letting me know! I hope you enjoy the next story featuring Agent! Thank you! The whole idea of this story was supposed to be establishing two characters, then suddenly introducing the main character in an unexpected way. I have to agree, I feel like I should have elaborated on Mike's (reasonable) paranoia, so it felt like more of a call to action. Like I said, I probably put in an excess of adjective instead of establishing the characters, but at the time, my only thought was how they were doomed from the start. Thank you for the feedback, and I hope you look forward to the next story! (And unfortunately, we won't be seeing Meat Man again anytime soon.)

(Author's Note: Hello! Welcome to my Feedback page for my "The Man Named Agent" series. If you liked or hated my story, please tell me here so I can improve it in any way. There isn't much else to say, so feel free to let me know what you think! Link to Original Story: http://www.pokemonreborn.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=20309)

(Authors Notice: Hello, welcome to my newest short story, specifically written for Reborn. This is the first legitimate story of written for a non-academic audience that isn't for family. If this first story is well received, I would like to expand on expand on it by writing more stories taking place in the same universe, Also, I would like any sort of feedback, even if it rips my story apart and spits on it's grave, since it may help me improve my skills as a writer. If you have a few moments, writing anything can really help me in the long run. I will be posting a separate thread for the series for any feedback you may have, so for the sake of keeping everything together, please post it there. Also know, that this story uses dark humor, so if you aren't into that kind of thing, I suggest you leave. I would call this PG-13 if you are concerned. Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story. -Combat Medic Link To Feedback: http://www.pokemonreborn.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=20311) The Man Named Agent Chapter One In the far off distance, a bell rung, striking eleven to announce the time to the world. People, bundled up to avoid the cold night air, walked briskly by a dimly lit bar, eager to get underneath some blankets and to drift off into the realms of sleep. The bar stood there, with a dimly lit lightbulb illuminating the stained “Open” sign, waiting for customers of any sort to enter it, though all of the locals knew that the bar was shady on even the best days. Inside it, ancient lamps tried their best to keep the bar bright, though for better or worse, the stains that it had been given over the years were unnoticeable in the shadow. Two figures could be seen in the bar, the bartender, who had distracted himself by cleaning a glass, and Mike, who was sitting alone at a sticky booth. Mike was in his early thirties, though anyone who would have given him a glance would have guessed he was in his forties. His skin was barely pink, since he rarely got to work outside, and was covered with scratches and scars. His eyes had large shadows under them, and his face was unshaven. If one would have spotted him on a street corner, one could have assumed that he was a bum, though he was anything but. Mike wore a light blue windbreaker over his uniform, as he was required to never show his uniform in public, that did not complement his unkempt hazel hair. Mike, taking a huff from his cigarette, taped his foot impatiently, waiting for his contact to show up. Mike didn't have to wait long, as the dulled ring of a bell brought him back to reality as the door to the bar opened. Wiping his face, Mike narrowed his eyes to look at the new comer, trying to confirm the identity of the stranger. The stranger was notably tall, standing a head and a half taller than Mike, and was covered head to toe in winter clothing. Signaling the stranger to his booth, Mike said "Jeramy, over here." Jeramy quickly shuffled over to the booth, carrying a small gust of cold wind with him as he did. Quickly taking his place across from Mike, Jeramy removed the scarf that was covering the majority of his face and asked "What the hell do you want Mike?" Mike stared at his companion for a moment, before grumbling out "Yeah, well it's good to see you too sunshine. I need your help." Jeramy let off a dry laugh, and most likely stared daggers into Mike, though Mike couldn't tell since he hadn't taken off the googles that he had worn to protect him from the cold. "Six years Mike... It's been six years, and now you call me... To ask for help... God man, you are unbelievable." Mike starred at Jeramy, remaining silent, daring him to continue. "I've been trying to put my life back together Mike. We both know..." Jeramy trailed off, before checking to see if the bartender was listening. The barkeep had begun to occupy himself far across from them, wiping down the record machine that appeared to be long broken. Hushing his voice, Jeramy said "We both know I'm a wanted man... Working for bio-terrorists is generally frowned upon, and yet, you call me here, to help you. What the hell is so important that the big bad Mike can't handle by himself?" Mike stared at the man he once saved, before he revealed his right arm, which had been hiding underneath the table. Placing it roughly upon the table, Jeramy flinched at the sight of it, or what was left of it at least. Mike's arm had been sliced in half, ranging from where his hand should have been, all the way to where the joint that would have connect the humerus to the rest of his arm would have been. The stump was warned in snow white bandages, which clashed against the dirty interior of the bar. Mike stared at the remains of one of his limbs, before saying "This, is why I called you." Jeramy blinked a few times, awe struck by his comrade's change, before saying "Christ Mike, what hell is the agency working on now. I know you guys work on some freaky stuff, but damn... What the type of creature ripped your arm off?" Shaking his head, Mike muttered "This wasn't one of the subjects, if it were, I wouldn't have called you. No, this was one of my ex co-workers." Jeramy blinked a few times, whispering "And I thought the occasional "experiment lotteries" we're bad... What happened?" Mike gestured to the bartender, and yelled out "Two of the strongest things you've got." Waiting, the bartender approached them, holding a platter with two mugs of booze in one hand, and an instructional booklet for a record player in another, which had taken his full attention to the point that Mike couldn't even make eye contact with him. Taking a large chug from his drink, Mike said "It had started like any normal day." "My shift had been going well for the first few hours, escort a few subjects to a chamber, escort them back, make sure no egg heads get ripped apart, the usual. About twenty minutes before lunch break, and everything went to hell. One of the entities broke out of its cage, and was ending scientists left and right. So, I grabbed my gun, and went to find it. It was then, when I met HIM..." Mike took a large drink from his mug, and Jeramy quickly followed suit, before asking "Who?" Mike laughed, before shaking his bad arm and saying "The guy who took my arm, that's who. He was a guard too, and was probably following the sane orders to terminate the subject that escaped. So, we teamed up, two guns were better than one after all. In hindsight, I should have just shot him, right then and there... Anyways, we ran off to find the subject, but it ended up finding us." Mike looked at Jeramy for a moment, before saying "I should mention this is classified information, but the entity we were after looks like it was made entirely out of meat. Anyways, meat man got the drop on us. Somehow the thing snuck behind us, and was planning on doing... Something to us, the higher up wouldn't tell us what it does to its victims. Anyways, the thing is behind me, and my fellow agent spins around and... Well, that bastard starts blind firing. No duck, no get out of the way, nothing. He starts to unload his shot gun on us." Jeramy furrowed his brow, and signaled for his comrade to stop. "Wait... You came to me, because you got hit by some friendly fire? Man, what?" Mike slammed his fist upon the table, before saying "Well yeah, but there more! That guy shot my arm off, but face it, it's the fact that he kept firing! After the first burst, meat man started to run away, but he kept shooting! My arm might have survived the first round, but four rounds later, and now I'm Captain Hook!" Jeramy could see the veins on Mike's forehead were close to popping, though he still asked "And then?" Mike, taking another swig of his drink, said "I cussed him out before I got taken to the medical sector. Because of him, I'm missing an arm, and he only got fired! He should fry for that!" Jeramy could tell that Mike's emotions had taken ahold of him, and with a shrug, said "God Mike... You called be to help you get revenge? Do you even know his name?" "Agent." "What?" "The guy just goes by Agent. He thinks he's so cool with a nickname or something." Jeramy looked at Mike, before shaking his head. "So, a man named Agent shot of your hand, and now you want revenge. The problem is, you don't even know where to find him since he left the foundation. And you want me to help you?" Mike nodded his head, taking another drink as he finished up his beverage. "If I don't get him Jeramy, he'll get me... I'm sure of it! So come on, help me out... Please..." Jeramy looked at the wreck that was the man he had once called his friend, reduced to three fourths of the man he once was. "Fine, I'll help. You saved my ass back in the day, I guess I owe you one." Mike cheered, before saying "Bartender! Another round of drinks on mehh..." before is speech suddenly became slurred. Blood began to pour out of his mouth as Jeramy began to cry out Mike's name, though he too began to sputter in a similar manner after a quarter of a minute. The two men fell to the floor, which was not unusual for this bar in particular, though it usually wasn't liquid humanity that was pouring from their mouths. After a few moments, both men lay upon the filthy ground, still, one covered in clothing, the other missing his arm. At thus posit, the bartender exclaimed "Got it! We just have to plug the record player in!" With a click, the plug to it clicked into the outlet, and the voice of Elvis Presley began to fill the bar. Looking over at the two dead men, the bartender shook his head and muttered "And I thought drunks were bad." Walking to the door, the bartender quickly flipped a switch that, snuffing out the light bulb that kept the open sign illuminated. Walking over to the still warm corpses, the bartender sat there for a moment, before addressing them. Looking at Mike, the bartender said "You really shouldn't have called my mother those terrible things. How rude." Turning to what remained of Jeramy, he said "Black really doesn't suit you." The man stood there for a moment, before reaching into Mike's pockets. After a few moments of rummaging, the man pulled out Mike's wallet. Pulling out a twenty-dollar bill, the man threw the piece of paper on the table, before tucking the wallet back in. Turning around, the man flicked the nearby light switch off, remarking "It's always nice to tip about twenty percent." Pushing his way through the door, the man briskly made his way towards a nearby parking lot. As he paced forward, the man began to untie is tie and remove the bartender jacket he had been wearing, revealing a dark black suit underneath. After a brief search, the man found his car, and quickly entered in and started up the heat. As the engine began to purr, the man sat back and smiled, before pulling a clip board out from behind him. On it, a large list of names was written out in pencil, with several names crossed out. Thumbing down, the man paused at the name "That dude who called mom those unflattering names" and with one brisk stroke, crossed it out. The other names on the list ranged from gang leaders, to know war lords, to someone only referred to as "Her Majesty." Putting the clipboard back, the man then pulled out his phone, which was flashing with a notification. "Go to the PTA meeting. Also, make up some kids for the PTA meeting." Sighing, the man knew he had to put this behind him, and began to rummage through his glove compartment. In it, was a name tag. Grabbing a pen, the man quickly scribbled on it, before attaching it to his suit. Backing out of the parking lot, the man used the rear view mirror to check how he looked. His suit was clean, and the name tag fit on him perfectly, reading out loud... "Hello, my name is Agent."

Happy Birthday!