the smoke made her head pulsate. she was seeing red, invisible lasers burning directly through her companion onto the man on the floor before he jumped to his feet and went for the door.

“hey—” but he didn’t turn, hurrying to put on his shoes before leaving the room. “HEEY!” shit.

she looked down at the perrserker for a split second before twirling in place, hands up around her head’s airspace, fingers splayed like crooked claws in an utter look of frustrated bewilderment as she scanned for shoes and weapons. she saw none. “aaaAAAHH.” what the hell was going on?

grabbed perrserker by the paw, dragging it along until it found its footing to run. the two trailed after the red-haired man. she found her green boots by the door and grabbed them, not stopping to put them on.

running down the hall barefoot after him, trying not to run into anyone as she bolted around corners, feeling a bit zig-zaggy still. she continued yelling, “HEY! WAIT!”

her feet carried her around one last corner, and she saw him, and a few others, readying to do what they could to put out the fire.

then she saw it: the queen’s sigil, tagged in black spray paint, lines clean and thick enough to mock her from a distance. her heart sunk and her jaw fell a little. they were here, and they were going to torture her within an inch of sanity before they even touched her. she could feel natalia’s eyes burning into her soul from across the ocean.

the day before began to return to her some. the night before, even, in fragments. her eyes drifted from the nameless man to nameless children that stood outside of their homes, crying. this was on her, but it was nearly impossible to process. she felt more disconnected from the symbol than she ever had. it felt like some sick joke staring back at her, even as it sat like a curse in her very skin.

for a second, to disappear was strong. but there were too many questions, and too much guilt to be felt in that. she hadn’t known them to make attacks like this—where innocents were so expendable. it felt bizarre to be the target. it felt disgusting.

with the acute awareness she could be shot in the back at any moment, her heart fluttered. she reached into her hoodie and removed a capsule, releasing her golisopod. “help them!” she commanded it, pointing to a couple of pokemon who were already on it. it moved forward and used liquidation, sending blasts of water up towards the flames that poked out of the building.

hanging back from everyone, lulu watched sénon, finally convinced he wasn’t playing a malicious role. she blinked at his back and swallowed hard. he’d saved her ass and this is what he’d gotten for it.

she never did look over her shoulder. in that moment, she didn't care. part of her felt like perhaps she deserved an execution.

she watched with wide eyes as the bird seemed to stoke the fire at first, but when the gyarados went to act as some massive fire hose, the wind seemed to blow it strategically in the direction of the water, working together. her golisopod continued to use LIQUIDATION, sending blasts of water over and over on the flames. there were sirens off in the distance, finally.

something about being scared to die made her introspective. it caused her to reflect on her wrong-doings, and where the initial domino had dropped, and where the fall first picked up momentum. that first kill, and how it only got easier from there. she wondered how similar her feelings were to those whose lives she’d taken, minutes before.

it was this train of thought which she was derailed from by the scream of a little girl hanging out a window that was billowing smoke. oh, no. she would not be living with that ghost.

she led the cat over to senon quickly, not giving any time for protest. “watch my perrsnatcher.” it was a slip, not intentional humor, and she didn’t realize she’d said it until she was halfway to the building, hopping to put her boots on before darting inside. she shook her head at herself and picked up the pace. stupid.

the building was blackened in places, charred like a good steak. the smoke was overwhelming, and she crouched as low as she could, coughing into her elbow as she held her sleeve over her face, squinting eyes burning as they tried to locate the apartment on the inside.

when she located the screaming, she tried the handle with a sleeve, feeling the heat through it. locked. some poor latchkey kid. with adrenaline surging, she gave two strong kicks to the door and something splintered, and she ran in, dodging falling shelves. finding the room, she spared no time. “come on, kid.” and she scooped her up, both coughing, and ran in the other direction, nearly getting lost in the smoke but eventually making her way outside.

by that time, the firetruck was pulling around the corner. lulu slid down onto the ground, sitting up and holding the girl. she couldn’t have been even ten years old. they were both fairly covered in soot and had sustained some minor burns.

“you okay?” she coughed, not necessarily capable of being comforting, but concerned none the less. the girl clung to her, not answering except for a whimper, and not letting go. the rugged woman was unsure how to react, and it was clear in her dirty face she’d not been around many children. she patted her head awkwardly, silently hoping an ambulance would arrive soon and pry them apart. her good deed had been done.

with a decreased oxygen level and the lingering remnants of a concussion, lulu wasn’t quite as worried about discreetness. she leaned back with the child still in her lap, blackened face giving him a dull look from the ground that read ’seriously?’ before looking back to the building as some of it caved in, smoking.

“think i’ll leave ‘em, thanks.” she responded, furrowing her brow up at him. she had her bases covered. the guns couldn’t be traced, and she had a whole toolbox.

then, for a split moment she reasoned with herself. was it worth it, though? what had she been carrying again? the carbine, and apparently some other things. ’all of them’ he’d said. you know you have a problem when you can’t keep track of all your killing machines. as long as her pistols were still in the sub, she was happy.

when he cryptically hinted at cops, she silently wished it was her biggest problem. “yeah. they’re not the ones i’m worried about.” a bit of transparency for him. while saoirse quinn had violated her parole in galar, hoenn law had nothing on lulu flint. she had no reason to duck out like she was running from something. in fact, she had more reason not to.

finally getting around to tying her boots when he took the girl, she pushed herself up and dusted herself off some. in silence for a moment, she then turned to him finally, ditching the charlie’s angels routine.

“look. i’m sorry for kicking you.” it wasn’t typically in lulu’s nature to apologize and she averted her eyes as she did so, huffing. it seemed she was full of special little moments that day. “i need to know some things.” her amber eyes, stark against the mask of soot, went back to lock on his like they had that day at the casino, only with less manipulative charm and more no-bullshit severity. “humor me for a bit?” probably a rather funny request coming from the likes of her after the night they’d just spent.

she supposed humoring him back was fair. she eyed him still, not saying anything. the look in her eyes always held a certain amount of ground that didn’t quite fit the fact she stood nearly a whole foot shorter.

lulu’s thin brows raised as the gyarados soaked senon. she felt her body tense a little as the water fell next to her, muscles remembering something clearly that was still a blur in her mind. she was confused until he was already running into the building, and her jaw dropped a little. bye, potatohead. nice knowin’ ya—kind of.

when he reappeared, she grimaced almost unnoticeably at the bag, quickly checking herself. oh, yeah. he was league. that’s right. there was one answer down.

then, he sat it down in front of her. she’d suspected he’d gone back in for things of his own, but when she felt the sides of the bag inconspicuously, she tilted her jaw to the right, eyeing him with some vague suspicion and bewilderment.

“thanks?” what was this, a favor? it didn’t quite register that just because the guns were a non-issue for her, didn’t mean they wouldn’t become an issue for someone else. so was the philosophy she typically followed, almost second-naturedly by now: not my problem.

she didn’t pick up the bag, not about to get caught dead with that insignia in her hands. she was careful not to tip him off to how uncomfortable it made her. she was damn good at hiding things when she had her wits about her.

“well, first: what’s your name?” she asked, lips flat. no smirk. no ‘potatohead’. dry, serious, and sort of exasperated. finally. three shots, one near-death experience, and one legitimate tragedy later. it was a bit unorthodox.

the next question would be a little more difficult to navigate. what do you know? she couldn’t imagine that going over terribly well. she bit her lip a little, regarding him with a pensive look and considering angles.

“yes. potatohead sounds pretty fucking stupid at this point.” had it ever not? even if they never saw each other, not knowing would eat at her. he’d likely saved her life. he deserved more than such a moniker, even if only in her mind. lulu, of course, kept that soft-serve explanation to herself.

then, he turned the tables. she stared at him. “no, it’s not. sorry if it’s not enough of a name for you.” she was dry, fucking with him a little, because she couldn’t help herself. “blame it on my mum.” natalia had given her that second name. for some inexplicable reason, she hadn’t strayed from it since. well, except for nikki, her third alias, which she’d come up with off the top per Cillian Quinn ’s recommendation. she then decided to feed him that one. “jones.” then, with a shrug, and a face that thought itself clever, she asked, “alias for what?”

she was glad to hear that the league hadn’t suspected anything. that was great news. she turned to stone at his recount, nonreactive to the mention of the tattooed man and the reminder she’d been left behind. in fact, she went so far as to interject and defend the two from rocket.

“not really smart to pursue someone firing off an uzi, is it?” only, had the situation been reversed, she would have gone back for them—and they were only associates, barely senior cohorts. lulu wasn’t entirely sure whose rabid bitch she was anymore. perhaps some day she’d pull the stake up from the ground.

her initial thought was to begin spinning a yarn for him. i’m not a criminal, that was actually my grandfather’s property, i was firing in self-defense—fill in the strange gaps, but she refrained, letting him finish. and oh, the dissonance of the note he ended on.

her tongue ran over her teeth inside her cheeks, her face suddenly red on patches not covered in soot, though it was unclear if she was actually blushing, or just raging mad again. perhaps both. this guy.

sénon.

she watched him walk off silently, looking back down at the bag briefly as though it were a dead rat. nope, still not touching that. she too recalled her pokemon, except for the galarian meowth who had a tendency to throw a wild tantrum if it was contained. it got close to its trainer and growled lowly at its surroundings, not accustomed to being around so many people at once.

lulu, saoirse, nikki, mustang waited for the red-haired man to be done with the city’s force. she reached in her pocket and found a damaged pack of cigarettes, pulling out the only one that wasn’t broken with her teeth, avoiding dirtying the end of the filter with her hand. then, realizing her zippo was long gone somewhere, she released her blaziken behind a truck.

“can i get a light?” the pokemon rolled its eyes—this was not the first time. it gave the tiniest flame burst on the end of its talons, which was still a bit large. she squinted, playing chicken with it, and consequently singing her nose hairs off. the cherry came to life and she puffed on it, and returned the blaziken to its ball. “thanks.”

watching the various city servants drive off before looking down to the bag at her feet again, she unzipped it, stuffing what she could in her hoodie. fuck that loud yellow statement piece.

she then began to jog after the red-haired man, the perrserker following. she slowed a couple of meters behind him and stuffed one hand in her pocket, fingers fidgeting idly with steel as the other hand hit her cigarette, busying a mouth that held its words with some hesitation. eventually, they got out.

“want some company, sénon?” the name felt decidedly odd after all this time. her tone was flat, not begging. she'd nearly decided it wasn't worth it.

she didn’t need him. but, she was being tracked. they’d likely want to get her alone, and, not to mention, she wasn’t about to lead them straight to the submarine. she didn’t have a plan on where else to go, and he’d proved he had no intentions of bringing her down. if he obliged, she could simply ditch him later.