The faint drip of water hitting the floor of the immense cavern echoes in his mind, a steady beat that would have been almost lulling to most Pokemon...and it bothers him. The damp air of the cave crawls across his gold, floral-patterned skin, and the Munna shudders. He hates the cold, and this place was disgusting. Moss black as pitch grew all over the walls, unable to be seen without daylight, and the scent of rot was everywhere. Before night fell, Minch had seen the corpses, the weak, unevolved wild Pokemon who had died here at the jaws of the larger predators. Thinking of the mangled bodies fills Minch with contempt; how absolutely pathetic. Most of them likely hadn't made it past the first month, let alone the first year. Weak. Weak weak weak. As dull in death as they no doubt were in life. There is nothing Minch enjoys more than a real fight to the death, a dance of desperation and survival instinct that ended with someone's blood and guts coating the earth. That was truly living. He's lost count of the dances he's seen, of how many Pokemon have met an abrupt end at his command. Not enough.
Minch's purple eyes drift over to the ever-present form beside him, the lithe catlike ghost barely visible. That was the consequence of having a body that was dark purple and black, but Minch knows better than to see such a thing as a disadvantage. How many unsuspecting Pokemon had fallen prey to his little monster leaping from the shadows, only noticed when it was already too late? The Phanteon was his greatest tool, a weapon that could never turn against him, and many have learned that harsh lesson. The ghost was his knife in the dark.
Other tools, however, were not so useful. The Umbreon, Terrence...how long has he been away, and why does he insist on keeping his master waiting? Leave it to the imbecile to mess up such a simple task as scouting an escape route out of the caverns.
Minch is aware that the Umbreon is unlikely to return, and that left only one other choice, something that could not possibly fail him. Once again, his attention is turned to the Phanteon whose attention never waivers. Even now, the ghost is fully alert, and despite the usual smoke obscuring his face, Minch knows the Phanteon is watching.
"You," the Munna says sharply, "The Umbreon isn't coming back. So now you'll find us a way out of this place-and be quick about it." Gathering his psychic abilities, Minch harshly shoves the Phanteon forward, his impatience growing by the millisecond. They would not linger here any longer; he refuses to be stuck in this dull, freezing place. "What are you waiting for? Go!" In an instant, the Phanteon has vanished into the darkness of the cave, and Minch glares into the darkness. The failure of one tool was forcing him to play his best hand, one he had intended on keeping with him for far longer. That was getting under his skin.
His slave would not keep him waiting long, though. That was for certain. There would be no more failure.
[Note: I kinda BSed the location lmao, but from my perspective, I wrote it mostly near the entrance in B2W2, the one that's originally blocked off by Plasma Grunts. The actual cavern containing Kyuurem is still far away, so there's plenty of room for team shenanigans before then. I also figured that many parts of the cave would be blocked off or collapsed, so it's not a straight path.
Also note that I was given full permission to write a bit for MM for the starting post, including Minch's psychic push.]