Stepping carefully around the unconscious Onix, Kyle traversed through the dark hole on the ground. He only had a flashlight to illuminate the way, as well as a Rhyhorn that could warn him should the Ground-type feel any minor tremors from the earth. In addition to what he has around, he'd release one of his Dark-types, more specifically, Poochy 2, to be able to help him guide the way to the people they were supposed to rescue. It was obvious at this point which direction they should be heading, but it wasn't wrong to be too sure.

Various pieces of equipment, some still having their shine in them that indicated that they have not been here for long, were scattered sporadically across the room. Poochy 2 would proceed to take a whiff on one of them before jolting his head up and running to a direction. At least he looks lively enough, he mused, watching the canine busy himself with the task that his trainer has given with.

Poochy 2 stopped at the crevice in the wall that he had spotted earlier, rocks covering the entrance that he would only assume was the only connection between a possible space behind it and the larger area that Kyle was at. He'd turn to his Rhyhorn, before motioning him to the wall. Shouting or barking at it and hoping for a response probably wouldn't work anyways, and so breaking it down was the most optimal solution he had.

Charging straight at the blockage, the rocks started to crumble and dust began to settle in the air. "Good morning shitheads," he'd greet in a rather unamused tone. He'd rather not take this task in the first place if he could help it, though all the pity that the other rangers have told him to sway him into doing it eventually worked in the end. If he could phrase it in other words, it was these guys fault he was here at all, though he wasn't complaining about it verbally.

"Your savior has arrived."

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