It wasn’t something she broadcast to the world, but it wasn’t exactly hidden, either.

Nanette had done theater in school, and she had loved it.

Had she ever dreamed of becoming an actress? For a day or two, maybe, but that was it. Mostly, though, she had just liked it.

If someone were to scroll through her old photos on social media, they would see her in all sorts of costumes on the stages of her school. The literal flower (because her first ever stage role had been Flower 3 in the second grade) had grown into a princess (because her last role in high school had been a singing princess opposite to a beast character), and that princess was now a cadet and part-time student who wanted an espresso to feel human.

Nanette could not pinpoint what exactly had happened. She had been in line for her coffee, and then someone had accosted her – all big, glittering eyes and words going at a mile a minute. They had talked about a new direct-to-stream special, about how she looked perfect for the part, and now Nanette was letting someone fuss at her hair while she studied the script. Really, she didn't have time for this...but someone had asked; she could never say no.

And she had never gotten her coffee.

“This is cute,” Nanette said quietly.

Her reaction was very understated for the sheer joy she was feeling. This was a romantic film. Saccharine sweet, very corny, and oh so up her alley. There were even blatant references to poetry and other classic plays. Was she dreaming? It would only be complete if she had something cloyingly sweet to drink.

“Excuse me – where’s my…co-star?”

She still had no dreams of fame, but there was that little thrill that ran right through her when she said those words. Co-star.

“Right over there!”

Nanette stood, running a hand over the elaborate braid. She hadn’t stopped to check, but just a touch told it was almost shaped like a…halo? For the costume party scene, apparently. She met her companion half-way, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Were you plucked off the street for this too?” Nanette asked, amused.

@ none | mission

☉

Nanette stifled a chuckle. “He definitely looks like a superhero if he ever wanted to do film instead, but I don’t think they would ask for a CEO.”

This was just personal, but if she was given the power to ask for any illusion? Obviously, at age five, she would ask for a prince. Complete with poofy pants and long eyelashes. Now? She was only a little embarrassed to say some sort of idol or rugged actor. Not that Fernando Silph wasn’t good looking, but if there was the whole gamut of her celebrity crush list then the choice was easy. The actor for A Streetcar Named Desire was definitely top tier, but who could forget the sultry lead vocalist from her favorite boy band?

Luckily, it seemed Zo would not give her that power. Thank god.

The school playground was as brightly colored as she expected. There was even an added bonus of a raised garden. Half-faded chalk drawings were scrawled on concrete. Nanette hung back for a moment as the homeroom teacher rallied his students again. They had immediately began to ricochet about, their attention diverted by sunshine and slides.

Nothing like the appearance of her trusty steed to have them oohing and ahhing again. Mila knickered, tossing back her mane.

“This is Mila. She’s much faster than I am, so she’s always helping me when I’m outside working. Being a ranger is hard work, but working with my friends makes it easier.”

The hubbub would likely be uncontrollable if she had Mila tacked for a ride. But the children seemed more than happy to pet her, and Mila seemed pleased with the attention. It seemed her notecards had truly been useless, but Nanette still stood by the principle of preparedness.

“It’s a good thing I decided against the riding. I think it would have sent them into a frenzy,” Nanette observed, amused. There was no attempt to manhandle Mila yet, but she was keeping a close eye out. Once children grabbed onto something, they seemed to gain some truly monstrous strength.

Instead, it seemed quite tame. D’Artagnan and Mila were playing, the children were exuberant but gentle, and Nanette was watching with a fond smile.

“Looks like we survived their terror,” Nanette said gravely, but she was smiling as she said it. “Your efforts today were valiant.”

@kane | mission

☉

It seemed that every Sanguine hated heat, and Nanette was no exception. So it was some form of cruel irony that her chaperoned training today was at Mt. Chimney. Ranger gear was durable and breathable, but even then Nanette was quietly boiling.

It could have been worse, she figured. And she wasn’t about to look so pathetic in front of Miss Anderson. Chin up, shoulders back, Nanette made sure to keep her posture upright. The idea of looking sloppy in front of anyone, let alone a superior, was unacceptable. There was anxiety pooling in her gut, mild as it was. It was one thing to train with senior rangers…it was another thing altogether when this senior was also a council member. Good impressions were important. Nanette would not tarnish her family name in front of Miss Anderson.

Mila, at least, seemed totally at ease. Her rapidash was ambling about, tossing back her bright mane and reveling in the sheer heat. Nanette was already daydreaming about a cool shower and a tub of ice cream when they got home. The shower was set in stone. The ice cream was only if she did a half-decent job today. If she made a fool of herself…well, she might as well pack up and quit on the spot.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

At the sight of her superior, Nanette drew herself to full height (not very impressive at just an inch over five feet, but she had to work with what she had) to stand at attention. They were the same age, her and Miss Anderson. But the differences between them seemed nearly insurmountable.

“Thank you for taking the time to oversee me today. I hope I can exceed your expectations.”

Elinor Anderson | mission

☉

The illusion was enough to get everyone back on track. There was a litany of can she turn into mes and more than a dozen oohs and a smattering of whoas. Nanette focused manfully on the children, and not the perfect imitation that Zo had done of her. (Because, really? Was her own face that punchable? Did she look that ridiculous? So stupid and ungainly? It was mortifying.) When some of the questions rounded back to her and d’Artagnan, she was glad for the segue. The way she jumped to answer might have been a touch too quick – so obviously eager – but she was sure these little ones wouldn’t notice.

“He helps me when we need to do search-and-rescue. D’Artagnan can get to places I can’t reach, and he can even cut through things like big rocks and trees. So if someone is stuck, we can go and help them much quicker.”

There was another wave of noise and d’Artagnan looked pleased as punch. The homeroom teacher was leading them outside for the next part of this little venture, and for recess. Nanette had been that age once, however long ago it felt like. She knew how restless they would be after seeing guests and bearing witness to Zo’s illusions.

“You’re doing well with them,” Nanette said.

The children were in a single file line with their teacher, marching obediently – if not a little impatiently – behind him. D’Artagnan had moved on to walk beside them, marching military style to their delight. If there had been that kind of silence after she spoke, Nanette was sure she would have fumbled the ball completely. Disliked by kindergartners? Tragic.

“Just be prepared for them to rush you and Zo. I think they’ll want to request a lot of superhero illusions.”

@kane | mission

☉

Nanette was a city girl. The lulling sounds of the metropolis always provided her nighttime ambiance. By now, not even a siren could wake her up. The lack of sound was usually jarring for her. But it wasn’t bad. People often said different places had their sights and even scents, but there was sound, too. In Lumiose City, at least in Nanette neighborhood, the sounds then – the sounds she had always felt were hers – were the clatter of her mother’s heels down the steps, cars outside, and the clink of silverware from the café across the street. In Slateport, it was the bazaar, the waves, the cries of the wingull, and the crack and hiss of sodas being opened.

Dewford Town was notably subdued in comparison, but it was a good kind of different. Nanette breathed in deep. The air was crisp and salty, and smelled faintly of damp earth from Granite Cave. The ocean seemed to roar along with the children in Slateport, but here it was…soft. As gentle as the kiss of waves against the sand. Some people were still fiddling with their boats for the next day, others were untangling their nets, and everyone seemed to know each other. The chatter was amiable, and the sound still carried even up the first flight of stairs of the lighthouse.

Nanette hugged her knees as she waited. This was a job for two. She had the medical expertise (somewhat. She was still studying, after all), but if this was a missing Pokémon case? It was best to tackle this was two people, at least.

She perused her first aid kit one more time before she stood. Nanette could hear footsteps mounting the stairs. Her partner for today, it would seem. The smile Nanette put on was easy, well-practiced. She held out her hand to shake.

“Good evening! I’m Nettie. I hope it wasn’t a difficult trip out here. Are you ready to see what’s going on?”

PENELOPE LIVY | MISSION

☉

“She’s beautiful,” said Nanette, smiling. “This is d’Artagnan. Mila will make an appearance outside. I’m sure the children would get too hyper if they see a Rapidash this early.”

Nanette had gotten just as hyper at their age, after all. It wasn’t a stretch to say that pivotal moment had not only kickstarted her dream of having a Rapidash, but also all her princess-centric daydreams. Did she still love stories of gallant knights cantering atop a blazing Rapidash for their lady loves? Yes. Were they now mostly shirtless in these endeavors? Also yes.

The door opened, and Nanette caught the dizzying scent of white glue. It was a great waft of nostalgia. The teacher was a slender man, baby-faced and cheerful with coke-bottle glasses. His clothing was smeared with globs of paint.

“Hello! Please, come in. The kids are so excited to have you here.”

There was an excited hush beyond the door’s threshold. They were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Nanette reached in her pocket for her notecards…and found them gone. Nanette glanced over her shoulder; d’Artagnan was tossing her little strawberry notecards in the bin. Cheeky little… Well, they were ages five to six. Not hard to entertain. And no one could say she had come ill-prepared.

“Hello! My name’s Nettie Sanguine. I’m a ranger and student! I’m learning how to help both humans and Pokémon when they feel sick or need help. This my partner, d’Artagnan – a gallade!”

Graceful as ever, d’Artagnan bowed deeply. He could be charming when he wanted to. Apparently, it was reserved for everyone but her. Nanette smiled fondly, laughing as little as she followed with a curtsy of her own. It was apparently well received judging by the smiles and the great big eyes. Their excitement was palpable, and Nanette found herself charmed.

@kane

☉

She was more than familiar with trainers and rangers alike coming to school with their Pokémon partners. It seemed like a very long time – a lifetime ago, even, but she was still in her early twenties. Even in her college courses back home, veterans of the field had come to give specific lectures with their Pokémon. Now here she was, rifling through notecards (pretty and pink, complete with little strawberries printed on them) out in the hallway.

(Not that children at this age would need this much information, but fortune favored the prepared.)

Nanette could hear the chatter of children through the door. No doubt they were expecting someone exciting…but it was just her and someone else. Hopefully her partner for the day would make up for her lack of flair. Style, at least, she had. In her own way. One couldn’t go wrong with pink and white. And if her privileged upbringing had taught Nanette anything, it was to dress for success.

D'artagnan was watching her dryly. Clearly, her Gallade did not see the value of her notecards.

“Don’t give me that look,” Nanette huffed. “It’s not advanced physiology, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

A snort this time. Nanette waved her notecards in front of the Gallade’s face.

“These are fun facts. Fun facts! Don’t you want the children to know you’re fun?”

There was a gentle swat at her cards and Nanette laughed. “Clearly not.”

The demographic for today’s audience was an entire room of six-year-olds. Impressing that bracket wasn’t difficult in the least, but still. These were the trainers of tomorrow, and Nanette Sanguine wasn’t going to be pinpointed as the negative memory that impacted a child’s potential hatred for Pokémon.

There were footsteps drawing closer. Nanette rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt before offering a hand.

“You must be the other presenter today. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nanette, but, please. Call me Nettie.”

@ none | mission

☉

He wore a mask as white as her hair, and his clothing was all black. Making a profile would be difficult with the unhelpful, bare-bones facts: suspect dressed in all black, white mask, approximately 6 feet tall, unknown build, presumed male. It was the appearance of over half the criminals in the world who were worth their salt. His voice was distorted as if through a filter, but his words were still clear. He did not believe in the League, and was taking matters into his own hands. In a book, Nanette would have been impressed. But this was real life and not some romantic story about handsome leading men and dashing warrior women.

Nanette made an inarticulate noise that was half shocked and half frustrated.

“There was likely already a case being built on them. There was no need for all of that.”

Still, she would be lying if she said she didn’t understand a bit. The remaining poachers were screaming and shouting, but the Pokémon were crying out just as loudly. When backed into a corner, any animal would react violently. Even the gentlest of creatures were born of claw and fang.

Between apprehending a vigilante with clearly no issue against violence and trying to ease the distress of the captured Pokémon…it was a difficult decision. Nanette chewed her lip.

“Please, just come quietly.”

She would try it once. But there had to be some order back inside or else one of the Pokémon could get hurt or run off. Then it’d be a whole other debacle on top of a grisly crime scene.

Thomas Benoit

☉

It might have been shock, familiarity by virtue of career choice, or both that was the source of Nanette’s lack of reaction. Not that she was completely blank to the gore and chaos in front of her; she shiver wracked her entire body, gooseflesh prickled across her skin, and she felt bile in her throat. If Grandpa Yuriy were here, he probably could have deduced a bulk of the information from a cursory glance. But it was just her. The slice to the femoral artery was clean, almost surgical. If Nanette had to guess, then the injury to the carotid artery was just an extra measure to ensure death.

These two were dead, so there was no use mulling over it until an actual team arrived. Nanette stooped beside a cage, brows knit in concern. Her hands were trembling; Nanette curled them into a fist, nails biting into the skin of her palms.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice, at least, was mostly even. “You’ll be out of here soon.”

She had to be calm. First, an emergency alert sent out to other rangers. Second…well, this wasn’t wholly necessary, and it was likely dangerously stupid, but Nanette vaulted over the open window. Rangers and officers would converge soon, but someone was running. Someone who had gutted the poachers inside like magikarp.

“Hey! Hey you - freeze!”

The raggedy figure had distance on her, but she wasn’t a common desk-jockey. Even if it was for a good cause, you couldn’t just prance around cutting people open.

“What in the world did you do?”

Thomas Benoit

☉