"I'unno, maybe they're some weird generic enemy from one of those D&D-style games Weasel's always screaming about over Skype with his little nerd posse."

Not that Guzma has a single clue of what he's talking about, probably. Still, quite the gracious (and presumptuous) gent he's run into, offering to clear a path as if Wade had actually asked for his help. Wade cants his head slightly at Guzma, turning back once again to look at the slimy creatures who are inching closer and closer to them with every passing second. If he's right, though, and they are Pokemon...

Wade sheathes his sword once more, digging around in his pockets for a small round object that Guzma will instantly recognize. He rolls the Pokeball around in his fingers, his gaze fixated on their targets.

"Mind if my girl lends a hand in moppin' up? She could probably use the practice."