Angelo inconspicuously slips into their pre-determined alley without notice, presence dwarfed by a pristine and overly tall office building close by. It’s shadow even hiding the form of one Selena Desmarais , who had been forced to wait for her "news delivery" out in the cold evening. Only the courier comes bearing worded mission reports, rather than scribbled interview notes or sneakily captured photographs of celebrities. [break][break]

“How’s it been out here?” He asks when he returns, not wasting time in reaching a hand out to take his pokeballs back, having left them behind with his mission partner when he entered the enemy’s terrain. His person feeling uncomfortably light without them. “Everything went as you guys thought. They didn’t seem to suspect anything, at least. Took her down to the basement by the looks of it, fuckers... Probably keep 'em all there.” The curse word is whispered, a fleeting moment of snarled frustration under his breath. [break][break]

And it had gone smoothly, pretending to play a part was always easy. Seeing the poachers cart Spica off in her electronically sealed crate and then having to turn his back on her however, had been far more strenuous a task than Angelo cared to admit. It left a barbed stone in his throat even now, scratchy and near impossible to swallow, even if it was all part of a choreographed plan. [break][break]

At least his Joltik, having slipped out of his pocket before they checked him over for any unannounced pokemon, had managed to discreetly sneak into the jailed crate to hide among her dragon teammate. Spica’s get out of jail free card. [break][break]

But it had to be done regardless of how it grated. At least, if he wanted to complete the mission. If he wanted the League to pay him.[break][break]

Angelo had been brought in to make use of his status as an unknown. A courier - ironically - pretending to be a courier, delivering a prized commodity for the black market from a carefully set up (and fake) investor. Galarian pokemon were still desirable, after all and none more so than one with an elusive shiny colour pallet. Angelo’s very own Dragapult masquerading as the part. [break][break]

It had been a quick transaction in the main foyer – even he hadn’t been trusted to venture in any deeper – where he passed off the Dragapult for a wad of cash. Thick, no doubt dirty and bound in a manila envelope that’s folded into itself until Angelo could squash it into his pocket. Just the slightest bit crumpled from his fiercely tightened fingers when he had jammed it in, the only evidence of his frustration that had leaked through his mask.[break][break]

Angelo doesn’t mention the money to Serena… Still toying with the temptation to keep it for himself; perhaps he’d consider it an additional, unannounced bonus for putting his pokemon at risk. He’ll see… [break][break]

Leaning against the grimy wall in the dark, Angelo keeps an eye on the crime syndicate building, trying not to think too hard about what was going on with his pokemon. Calloused fingertips absentmindedly rolling Spica’s empty pokeball in his pocket.[break][break]

They don’t have to wait long. Within the darkness of night, tucked away in their corner with their target building looming overhead, a swirling mass of midnight energy opens. A PHANTOM FORCE portal which will take them straight into the poacher’s lair, yawning wide and ominously inviting them to enter, summoned in their alleyway as planned. It looked like Spica and Fang had gotten free of their cage… [break][break]

“Alright then. Avatar’s first,” Angelo says, playful comment not quite reaching the depths of his eyes as he steps towards the door blind, moving forward regardless of his prompt. Motivated.


[break][break]

+ Selena Desmarais // petalburg poachers[break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]