She rolls the safari ball in her palm, expression thoughtful as the Litwick's warmth emanates from the capsule. It's comforting and creepy, and it prompts her to tuck the pokeball away and shift her attention to the wide open field she is in.

In the distance, with a perfectly polished ivory skull cap, she spies a lone Cubone. It appears to be minding its business, otherwise unbothered by its surroundings or the goings on of other Pokemon around it. That, and it appears to be quite territorial, slapping its bone club against the ground to MUD-SLAP anyone who gets too close.

The Cubone's aggressive stance only intrigues Remi. With a wave of her fingers and a confident smirk, the woman quietly orders her Sneasel to advance. She has the type advantage both in a two against one and ice types versus the ground-type Cubone.

Even despite the wild Pokemon's SKULL BASH that lands a direct hit, the second Sneasel sneaks in to freeze it. Once down and unconscious, Remi smooths her hand over the silky ivory skull. Satisfaction crawls across her expression at the prospect of selling it to the highest bidder. This Pokemon in particular was in excellent condition, with hardly a scratch or chip to the Pokemon's skull helmet.

That would fetch a pretty penny.

capture attempt on cubone

Remi Cassel

☉

In the underbelly of the city, under the cover of twinkly lights and street vendors boasting fortunes and tarot card readings, Remi is busy exchanging obscene amounts of hard cash for illegally smuggled Pokemon. Rich people specifically, wearing masks and muttering to each other about whether or not the exchange was secure give the woman a migraine. She can feel her pulse jump against the thin leather strap of her eyepatch, but she continues to force a smile and wait for them to make their decision.

She doesn't have all day. The festival in the city streets will come to an end soon and drunken civilians could stumble upon the exchange and interrupt. They need to finish the deal and scatter, and soon. Not only that, but the Pokemon are beginning to wake up and become restless. Whatever juice she got to keep them down seems to be wearing off. She'd have to discuss that with her supplier.

"What seems to be the issue, gentleman? Do you not like what you see? I assure you, it's exactly what you ordered."

Remi barely stifles the frustrated growl in her tone, and her eye darts past a shoulder to notice a dark stain in her peripheral. Was someone from the festival already interrupting their little discussion?

As it happens, fortune would not be in her favor tonight. Somewhere on the streets of Lilycove city, an automated fortune teller has spilled the beans on her smuggling op, drawing the attention of someone who was definitely stepping out of bounds. Wonderful.

mission: future sight

mint frost

☉

In her back pocket is a list of scribbled, barely legible names of Pokemon in high demand. The safari zone was an 'open-to-the-public' operation, but only if one had the cash and the means to get in. Criminals and the like were barred, and poor people couldn't, and rich people were too lazy and felt that catching Pokemon as lazy and easy-to-find as these ones was beneath them. They weren't entirely wrong, and it was why they paid people like her to catch them for them.

She squints as she pulls the page out. It tears on the way, making it difficult to read her barely-legible writing. With a sigh, she runs her thumb over the smudged pencil marks and deduces that it isn't worth reading. She had only a few chances anyway, so she might as well just catch the first few that catch her eye. Rich people would buy anything if she pitched it well enough.

And the first thing to catch her eye as she stuffs the paper back in her pocket is a lone Litwick. It stares at her with its single exposed, glowing yellow eye. The purple flame that burns on its back sways with the gentle breeze, mesmerizing. She frowns, put-off by its eerie appearance. But when she steps forward, it immediately MINIMIZES and shrinks back, reappearing a short distance away before returning to normal size.

"Huh."

With a subtle glance about her surroundings, Remi deduces no one is watching and releases two Sneasel. Together, the two disorient and overcome the Litwick, suffering only minor burns in the process. The Litwick faints and Remi plucks a pokeball from her belt to capture it. She had to admit, safari balls were awfully convenient.

capture attempt on litwick

Remi Cassel

☉

It's a weird, uncomfortable, almost terrifying feeling to have all eyes on you. She feels like steps stepping foot into a pool of piranhas, and she's cut her toe wide open on the way in. They look hungry, suspicious, agitated- all of it bundles into raw nerves and sharp teeth.

No faces stuck out as familiar because no one here is familiar. They're all nameless, shapeless faces that would ultimately haunt her nightmares someday. Every face you see in a dream is a face you've seen in passing, whether you think you remembered them or not.

What she should hear as the pluck of a pool cue striking the ball is replaced with silence and the clink of glasses as they are lifted from the bar. Remi stands off to the side, having never strayed into the centre of the room too deeply just in case of this exact reaction. She was a stranger among strangers- something dangerous and unpredictable.

"Just visiting. Figure I may as well get familiar with the crowd if I plan on stickin' around."

She responds to the one person in the room who had addressed her. She notes the cue in his hand and the crooked smile offered. He's suspicious, and rightfully so. This is a den of wolves, and she's fresh meat.

"You look like you could use a partner."

virgil roach

☉

Remi glances over at her, some semblance of amusement sparkling behind her uncovered, dark grey eye. Her expression remains mostly neutral, however, outside of the slight twitch of her lip.

"How would fish get inside? Isn't this submarine shit supposed to be secure?"

If there were fish on the inside, that meant a leak. It takes all of her strength not to let her face contort into disgust and nausea as her seasickness bubbles to the surface again. Whose bright idea was it to build a submarine as a base of operations? Why not a blimp or an island?

"Let's hope it's Rattatas."

Hadn't she heard a rumor that someone in the organization had a fuckton of them? Were they loose on the sub? How dreadful.

Remi glances away, looking down the hallway they're currently walking down. Their direction had seemed aimless if only because Remi had absolutely no idea where they were going or where anything was-- but rattling and banging further ahead now suggested they were going the right direction.

"Huh. Seems a bit noisy to be fish."

vesper hale

☉

The med-bay? I don't even know where that is.

She appears disgruntled, with her cheek pressing into the fabric of her eyepatch that gives away what it is that she's feeling. Though she really isn't even sure she knows, she just knows she is lost. Oh-- and seasick. For the most part, the submarine seems to avoid swaying. In fact, it very well might be stationed somewhere and not moving at all.

But if she thought too much about the fact they were underwater, it immediately began to turn her insices into soup.

"Good for them."

Banging, getting their socks off with illicit drugs- isn't that the best part of a rogue organization of law-breakers? You did whatever the fuck you wanted without much consequence.

"I'd say it's a shame I can't join them."

The cigarette between the woman's fingers makes her chest burn with the craving of one of her own. But the thought of smoking in a metal tube where one wrong move could sink it, she had refrained from satisfying the itch during her stay here.

vesper hale

☉

Shady shit required shady dealings and shady people - but she was pleasantly surprised to find that the establishment she's been sent to in lower Slateport was anything but backdoor alley unkept and sketchy.

Maybe that's because, on the outside, it looked every bit the bougie, expensive, black leather couch establishment it wanted to be. Its doors were open to the public to serve high end expectations. The only doors that remained closed were the ones behind a tired bar-owners eyes, where his foot might rest against a trap door beneath the bar, just like that bizarre children's movie she'd watched once.

As it happened, that was not at all the case.

Instead of a tricky trap door or a sketchy back-alley entrance, virgil roach's bar held a basement level where several Team Rocket faces gathered from time to time for drinks and socialization. While it, too, was kept tight-lipped and secretive, the speakeasy was not at all suspicious or attention-grabbing. It was simple, elegant, well put-together and convenient.

And it smelled of mahogany and smelled of high-end cigars. This place might very well be her favourite place in Hoenn, and she'd only barely stepped through the door.

virgil roach

☉

The soft glow of a spent cigarette glows brighter for a second, followed immediately by a slow exhale. Remi doesn't cough, but her face contorts in mild discomfort as the burn leaves a trail down her throat and into her chest. She exhales faster as a familiar voice draws her attention.

She drops the cigarette, digging the toe of her boot into it to snuff it out. It dissolves into ash, flattened where she walks away. Her attention shifts to the man and then over her shoulder as she breathes out the remainder of the smoke. It leaves from her nose too, burning on the way out. But it has satisfied the craving she'd ignored the entire way here.

"Never are."

Inside of the cage, the Pyroar continues to sleep.

"I have all of the paperwork set aside for you with the truck. This guy is cleared and good to go."

GABRIEL BLACK

☉

She really didn't understand why people keep their possessions on display like this and expect people not to take advantage. People were only as good as their intentions, or something, and Remi had long ago fell off the bus driving to sunshine and rainbows and giving away obscene amounts of money to charity.

And, while she hadn't broken into the safari zone, her methods of getting here and her intentions once she arrived were far from innocent. One of her buyers had notified her of a brand new shipment of Noibat being delivered to the zone. Apparently they had plans to run some kind of a con and have someone steal a few of them back at a time to re-send to the warden.

She was pretty sure the safari zone was a sanctuary and there wasn't any money to be made- but she was proven wrong a lot of the time it seemed.

Whatever the case, Remi had snagged a ticket off of the buyer to grant her access to the safari zone. She sat through the warden's instructions and clenched her teeth through the tightness in her throat and the itch to put a cigarette between her fingers. Smoking was prohibited during her visit, at least in areas with high traffic.

What a pain in the ass.

Remi Cassel

☉