[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead shakes her head and then pauses .Her cousin was basically vegan, it was a viewpoint she got. “Kind of?” She pauses to adjust the mermaid’s top around her chest. The thing was somehow both too tight and ill-fitting. Not wanting to leave things off that vague, Madd expanded on her earlier explanation. “It’s still meat, but it’s grown in a petri dish.” Sure, it wasn’t that appetizing of a process, but neither was Pokemon slaughter. And, weird goop didn’t scream.

Her head bobs in agreement. This guy knew his way around being sheriff and all. Hopefully, his taste in food was better than his taste in headgear. “Sounds great.” Elderly people could smell a good deal from a mile away. And they were the go-to denizens of the lunch rush. As Navy turned away, Madd moved to follow. Sure, going to lunch with old guys wasn’t on her BINGO card this week, but she had questions.

But the constriction around her ankles reminded her that she looked like a loon. A sigh followed as she tugged the ‘tail’ up a few inches. That gave her some wiggle room but not much. Yakuza threw her a beseeching look. Like the Urshifu, he was almost all stomach. Even veggie food sounded good. Though he really wanted some fish.

“Go on.” Amber eyes glared down at the mascot sausage sleeve. “I’ll be right behind you.”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]If she’d heard herself described as a flower girl, Madd might have laughed. That descriptor sounded like her dad’s dream and her nightmare. It kind of sucked. If he hadn’t pushed her toward everything feminine, she might have come to appreciate it. Now, however, those things were forever soured. The sight of a child’s sundress made her shiver.

In her bag was a medley of bottles. While most of these are empty when Navy arrives, there are a few filled ones. These are labeled in a surprisingly graceful cursive script. Though the scientific names do not mean much to her, she’s copied them over without typos. As Navy approaches, the Obstagoon at her side jerks his head up. “Staaa!” He drops a meaty paw on her shoulder. He then shakes her back and forth like a dashboard hula dancer. "Yakky!" He stops. With a blink, she jerks her head in the indicated direction.

For a second, she’s dazzled by the sight of a sheriff on a Rapidash. The thing glimmers with almost mercurial silver flames. But, then, there’s an awkward fumble as she drops the bottle she’d been working on. With the pony here, the guy felt way more like a Wild West official. And, she was a criminal. One who now knew what she’d done to the guy.

It takes her a minute to shake off that awkward feeling. The League? She laughs as she drops the bottle into her bag. “The fact that it’s not volunteering.” She was getting paid a good amount for plants. Enough that the danger of the place was written off. “I don’t really have time to work for free.” Except for BINGO at the old folk’s home once a month. But that was entertainment. “And, if I’m being honest, both sides suck.” Maybe that’d throw him off of asking too many questions.

Diehard Leaguers tended to jump on soap boxes at the first hint of aspersion.

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[attr="class","samjermain"] Whoops. Looks like I spooked him. Suddenly, she felt like her arms were crossed the wrong way. So, she shuffled them. Unfortunately, that didn’t feel any better. The guy turned. Some part of her expected to see a needle sticking out of his arm. “That would explain the Slaking eyes.” Madd shook her head. “Don’t worry about apologizing to me.” All these all-nighters were wearing him] out, after all. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall out in the street.” Sure, it was dangerous to butt in around here, but Aubre had to rub off somewhere.

Then again, when you had her frame, most people left you alone. Woman or no woman. They assumed you’d break their necks if they stuck their tongue out. That those muscles were the result of delinquent workouts. And, most days, those assumptions served her just fine. As Daniel turned his attention to the egg, her freckled cheeks flared pink. The word cute didn’t help. She was an ugly ginger Oranguru. The exact opposite of cute.

She dropped her gaze to the sun-covered baby holster. She laughed—the noise sounding nothing like you’d expect. It was soft, decidedly feminine. I had almost forgotten that thing was there. Enjoying his trainer’s embarrassment, her Obstagoon leaned over the Bjorn and grinned at it. Madd batted his claws away as she turned back to Daniel. “Well, I didn’t lay it.” There’s a pause as she offers up a soft smile.

Aubre had looked at the egg for her. “My cousin says it’s pretty close to hatching.” She took a few steps closer. Her frame cast shadows across the alley’s walls. “It started making noise.” The oval wiggled in its pouch. “Listen.” Any chance to show off her pride faded as a backfiring engine echoed through the night.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]The redhead just sighed. “That mindset worries me.” It really did. “I wonder where they get it from.” But she’d sent pictures to her shitty exe before. More than a couple of them. Not that she ever understood why he wanted them. Before she figured out she was ace, it just felt like men were weird (and some women too). Fortunately, she wasn’t embarrassed if a few tit pics circulated out there. It was just some fat with a nip on it.

Madd wondered if she was right to give up the Toxapex so easily. Sure it seemed aggressive, but its coloration was pretty outside the norm. But one look at the water erased that notion. Among the ink of the Octillery, she could see something noxious in the water. A gift from the spiky creature’s deadly spikes. The pond had enough garbage without tossing whatever this was in the mix.

At sudden commotion, the Rocket turned toward the Dottler. She thought it was kind of cute, in a weird, child’s drawing kind of rose. A brow rose as the weird herb ball was tossed its way. Shows you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Madeline. Apparently, this knockout powerhouse liked bugs with sparkly eyes. As the thing vanished, Madd nodded at Desiree. “That’s a pretty neat trick. I’ll have to try it sometime.” Not that her sausage fingers were deft enough to weave anything together. There was a reason she’d never mastered needlepoint.

“I can see why. Atmosphere’s probably different.” People at clubs had things to do other than stare at you. A victim of chronic stage fright, Madd was just fine letting other people hog the limelight. “Not really a club person myself.” Too much music and jiving for her. Give her a crappy old bar any day. At least people weren’t slinging drugs like nerds tried to sling playing cards.

Yakuza grabbed her shoulder and pointed to a flash of red beyond the waterfall. Her lips perked up. A Crawdaunt was perfect for the pond. Sure, so was the Starmie beneath the water, but those things kind of creeped her out. Just an empty red abyss to peer into. Probably end up with something worse staring back. Like an incel. “Grab the crab, bud. But be nice.” With a look of trepidation at the waterfall, the Obstagoon moved to do what he was told.

With a shudder, he dipped himself and his gelled-up mohawk into the icy water. His hair fell into a mess of bangs as he vanished. Instead of fighting, a conversation ensued.

“It means I sell fishing stuff. Hooks, rods, bait—all that jazz.” It definitely wasn’t her dream job. “Owner’s about to croak, so I end up doing all the stocking too.” Though she tried to seem callous about it, that statement left a tremor to her voice. Sure, he stared at her boobs, but the old guy had given her a chance. He didn’t look at her style and think she was a delinquent (which she was). Instead, the guy said he reminded her of his granddaughter who died in Kanto. Double awkward.

A minute later, the Obstagoon emerged beside the clicking claws of a Crawdaunt. The thing looked up at Madd and then shrugged. It then grinned. “Do I even want to know what you—” Yakuza looked away awkwardly. “I’ll take that as a no.” Luckily, her Pokeball hit the thing straight on. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the airy fairy here.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]She knew this guy. That was Madd’s first thought when her partner showed up. But she knew plenty of people. The thing about not getting promoted meant being stuck with the chafe. And, in a terrorist organization, that position was kind of a revolving door. They either blew themselves up or ran home the second someone was mean to them.

If her dad wasn’t such a piece of shit, she probably would have done the same. Kind of the hard part of the genetic lottery.

After her last trip, the redhead had done some prep work. Her arms were encased in elbow-length rubber gloves. In place of her stereotypical ass-kicking boots were a pair of cheap-looking rubber ones. Knowing that Yakky was terrified of lightning, she swapped him for a Garchomp. Though he’d agreed to come in the way of a ball tucked into her breast pocket.

As she approached her companion, Madeline raised one of the gloved hands in greeting. “Hey, Jason.” Her greeting is an attempt at exuding cool. She tries not to jump as lighting strikes the ground. The smile is teasing, and cheeky. “Get on a Beast’s shit list?”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]Beneath the ice fields, the chasm wwas almost sweltering. Ice quickly gave way to almost tropical trees. Frozen icicles were now washed away by the roar of nearby waterfall. “Damn, Yakky.” Madd’s voice is punctuated by a whistle. Or, at least, her best approximation of one.

She’d never gotten the hang of it. “Look at this place.” Sure, that pamphlet made it sound dangerous. Like some sort of time travel horror flick. But, from here, it looked unspoiled. The kind of place an environmentalist dreamed of.

But that idealistic impression ended pretty quick. There was already trash blowing through the long grass. “People suck.” She picked up what seemed to be a discarded chip bag before letting it drop back to the floor. There wasn’t exactly anywhere to put it.

Sure, she didn’t want to work for Rocket anymore, but who could turn down a paycheck like that? It wasn’t like she was actually doing anything immoral. She was just grabbing some plant samples for the scaredy cats in research. And, unless it was poisoning someone with salad, she doubted it’d end up being dangerous.

A bush nearby caught her eye. Pulling up her phone, she swiped through the provided pictures again. “I think this is one of them.” She paused as she noticed the thorns. “Hold it still for me.” After the Obstagoon did so, Madd moved forward with a pair of mini snips.

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[attr="class","samjermain"]There were eggs found around the pond all of the time. It wasn’t like it was her job to desex the fish. But this looked different. There didn’t seem to be any parents around it. It’d also been laid a ways from the water’s edge. Then, there was the pattern on its shell. A little girl had pointed it out to her as she was teaching her how to cast a rod. “It’s gonna get cold!” The little girl piped up at her. “You gotta make sure it’s safe!” The mom mouthed an apology, but the damage was done. Madd couldn’t say no to a face like that.

She tried to take it by Aub’s to identify it, but nobody answered. With a shrug, she’d take the long ride back home. An old, badly fitted baby harness rested on her chest. The thing had come free from some single mom years ago. It’d been used to cart around a Slugma egg for a while. Making her way to her apartment, a sight at the corner caught her eye. An orange brow jerked upward as her and Yakuza approached.

The egg seemed to anticipate a confrontation. It wiggled in its holder.

“Hey, bud.” Those words still felt weird on her tongue. Her father would hate such casual talk. Something about this made her suddenly long for a cigarette. “You feeling all right?”

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[attr="class","samjermain"]You know what? She didn’t even like alcohol. Beer tasted gross. Those fruity drinks might as well be smoothies. Hangovers sucked. But her friends drank like camels, and she fell into line. It didn’t help that drunk her let the facade slip. That biker girl persona edged something closer to the truth. There was more vulnerability there.

Fortunately, Yakuza was happy to down her drinks when no one was looking.

But, when she decided to meet up with Gerry, she couldn’t think of anywhere else. They met in ye olde tavern, so it felt right to meet up at one. Not wanting to be seen as prissy, she looked for a place that was on the rough-and-tumble side of things. She also didn’t want it too close to home. The last thing Madeline wanted is for one of the rangers she met to embarrass her.

When she found this western place—surrounded by a fake farm—she couldn’t turn it down. Now, she was sitting at the bar with her BFF. The blush of a few beers was sneaking into her cheeks. Those shoulders—normally tense—were lowered and relaxed. As another beer was laid in front of her, the redhead grinned. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty.

“How much do I have to pay you to ‘ride the bull’?.” Copper eyes wink as a lopsided smile threatens. After a minute, she points to the corral in the corner. Instead of a typical mechanical bull, a Tauros lays bored at its center.

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