Lex hadn’t been to a club in ages so she dressed for the occasion. Tight leather pants, strappy heels, and a cropped, low cut black top. Sexy to blend in, but practical if she still needed to get shit done. The makeup matched: bold eyes and a crimson lip. Lex was accompanied by, well, her twin. An exact replica, minus the scar, trailed behind her. The Zororak’s ILLUSION made them both identical. It was strange to stare back at yourself and it wasn’t a mirror. Nova was doing a wonderful job keeping the illusion strong in the face of all the distractions.

Both copies trailed behind Remiel Calcifet on either side of him. The base thumped and rattled the air. The momentum carried over into her soul, reminding her of day long since passed in Johto. As intoxicating as it was, Lex resisted the pull towards the dance floor and kept her focus on Remiel. They had a job to do, after all. Perhaps she’d come back when her and Killian Decker moved to Sootopolis. She could use a night of belligerent, messy fun before the chaos.

The chill of the alleyway replaced the humid heat of the club as they stepped outside. Goosebumps rose across the real Lex’s flesh, a delayed reaction followed on the copy’s fair skin. Amber eyes followed Remy’s towards the drunken female. A sigh hisses out of her lips, “Didn’t we tell them to keep people away from here?” it was sharp, accusatory. The fools couldn’t even do their job for 10 minutes. It wasn’t her place to confront the owner or head of security. The lowly thief was simply here because for some reasons he was asked to be. A rather neutral glare meets his and both of the copies nodded in unison as turned towards the drunken female.

“Alright boys, you heard him, speed it up or my sister here will tear you apart,” there was sultry darkness to the threat. To emphasize, the Lex clone smiled, bearing her teeth with a low growl, “C’mon, chop chop,” Lex clapped her hands, causing her shadow to stir. The Shadow Gardevoir emerged, covering the scene in an eerie discomfort with her presence. She’s empty, cold, lifeless. A series of hand signals gives her the command she needs. Pink PSYCHIC energy consumed some of the boxes. The Shadow Pokemon followed the men with her charge, speeding the process along by carrying more than they could manage with Psychic.

Remiel Calcifet

Eventually, Remiel reemerges from the depths of the club while the grunts collect a few more boxes. He seems satisfied with his work, she’s still annoyed it had to be dealt with in the first place. Incompetence doesn’t sit well with her.

Lex doesn’t move to collect anything from the trunk. She watches curiously as Remy rolls up his sleeves slowly, methodically as if it was a careful task. It seems tedious, almost annoying. Her gaze moves from Remiel to Nova when he comments on her illusion. The replica wears a malicious grin, devious as usual. Nova is a real troublemaker, true to her species. Remial’s fun fact about Zororak makes her laugh, “It wouldn’t surprise me,” she could easily believe Nova running amuck wearing her face and getting in trouble. Lex had a hard enough time keeping a tight rein on her at the Vital Spirit Festival. One moment away with Killian had left the Zororak to her own devices. The poor man at the fireworks booth didn’t know any better.

Eyes fall to the small Mimikyu that has been trailing her superior. She isn’t very familiar with them, but she does know they’re ghost types, a sub-specialty of hers. What she does know about them is that they are kind of creepy, but cute, “Does it ever change out of those same rags?” She asks curiously. When Remy steps away, Lex approaches the trunk to take up a small box to carry as well.

Remiel Calcifet

The maid? Lex smiles, shaking her head subtly. That must be nice. Her gaze glances between them as they move back towards the club. As the music grows, louder, so do their voice, “Once a month?” there’s still a hint of disgust in her tone. That seemed rather infrequent for a pokemon that constantly wore them. Guess it’s better than nothing. Hopefully it didn’t smell. Could ghosts smell? The idle thought has her gaze drifting towards the Shadow Gadevoir that disappears around a corner with her boxes in tow held by PSYCHIC.

It’s hard to miss the surprised look on her face with Remy’s praise, “A name for myself?” she repeats. There’s nothing really of note she’s done well. She’s certainly fucked up plenty of times. Perhaps it’s not a good name, “Hm, well, I work mostly with Killian Decker,” it’s more than just because of their relationship. Her skills are limited and intel is really the only department that could make use of them, “And what is it that you do?” she asks curiously. She’s aware he’s an admin, but what he actually does has always remained a mystery.

Remiel Calcifet

As the pulse of the music fades, the admin’s words become more clear. Perhaps once a month isn’t all that disgusting. It is a ghost, after all. It’s not like sweat . . . or do they? Suddenly the question plagues her. As she ever seen Smoke sweat? Or the Gardevoir? Her gaze flashes forward towards the ghost as it disappears down the stairs with its cargo. Lex follows behind Remiel with her box.

A cool breeze rushes up the stone passageway, cause goosebumps to rise across her bare skin although she seems unphased. She can’t help but laugh quietly at his comment – Mr. Decker. It’s rare to hear someone refer to him like that. So formal.

The Gardevoir moves her boxes towards a stack of others to let the grunts organize whatever is inside. Lex steps to the side, inspecting the room for a moment before letting her gaze fall on the long tunnel before turning back towards Remiel with curiosity, “Is that so?” she has no idea who this Indiana Jones is but the royal used words she typically used to describe her job. Lex is an expert as acquiring things: artifacts, information, even people, “It’d be nice to expand beyond intel,” not that she didn’t want to would with Killian Decker, she would always put his needs first, but opportunities elsewhere may afford her access to information she needed and strength she couldn’t find elsewhere, “I’d be interested to hear about this work,” she admits, moving to set down the box she carries beside some others.

Remiel Calcifet

A treasure heist? That sounds lucrative . . . and exciting. He certainly has Lex intrigued. The subtle start of a grin pulls at the corner of her lips as the thought sinks its roots into her. She follows suit, setting the box down beside that of the Ambassador’s. The Shadow Gardevoir had finished her task, stacking the boxes neatly with the help of her psychic typing. The thief’s twin sets its box on top of hers.

The real Lex reaches forward, accepting the card from him. It’s clean, elegant, pristine. It’s carefully tucked away in her pocket as amber eyes flick back up to meet his, “I understand,” being so involved in intel, she certainly knows when there are more ear than wanted lurking about. She’d patiently wait to hear more details on the subject, “I look forward to working with you, Remiel,” she smiles with a polite nod before he departs.

A sharp whistle calls the Gardevoir to her. A ghostly hands stretches out to rest on her shoulder and the shoulder of her mirror image. As Remiel disappears, so do they in a flash of light to TELEPORT back to headquarters.

Remiel Calcifet