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i'll chase the light of that distant star

"Oh," was all that Talia could manage to say at first, nodding slowly as the other woman calmly listed off various, intricate possibilities.

I hope no one comes, Talia thought despite herself. Or if they do, that they are the greenhorns mentioned. I'm a greenhorn, too, aren't I? It was a cowardly hope, and she despised herself for holding it at all.

From how Mòrag Glas spoke, however, this was nothing but routine to her: "This isn't a regulated battleground, and anything can happen." That unknown possibility was precisely what left Talia on edge, unaware of what cruel methods Rocket or other criminals might engage in to accomplish their goals.

Which was why Mòrag Glas startled her so much with her final statement: "There's no method too underhanded if it means achieving victory." Talia gave her partner an incredulous look, as if checking that she had indeed heard her correctly.

"Surely we have some boundaries?" the turquoise-haired woman insisted, as if to reassure herself that she had misheard. "Why, we aren't criminals ourselves. Is that not what makes us distinct from them? That we hold value where they do not?"

A shadow fled over the rooftops as the two women spoken, the glimpse of it almost unseen save for the way the two Dragon-type Pokemon turned in response to its movement.

Mòrag Glas ● Bank on It ●

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i'll chase the light of that distant star

The principled sort? Indignation coursed through Talia as the other woman seemed to smirk in reply, her "How admirable," spoken as drily as the whisper of the hot, evening wind all around them.

To suggest that the only thing standing between them and Rocket was the people they chose to protect was insulting. Would the League invade other territories, as Rocket had in Kanto, Johto, and now Sootopolis? Would Dahlia Goode be wielding torture as a method of keeping members of the military and Rangers in line?

The audacity of such a statement floored Talia, utterly and completely. Her expression openly reflected that.

"Then I fail to agree, for such conduct is hardly arbitrary in nature," Talia retorted, her tone firm in its steely displeasure. "I do not believe I need to resort to my enemy's tactics to defeat them. That is a loss of a different sort, is it not?"

Every word that Mòrag Glas spoke in reply came out with the clear confidence of one who was convinced of her words, as if correcting a small child's endearing, but fundamentally flawed, misunderstanding. It incensed Talia, to already feel so new and so inept, only to then have a stranger likewise question the foundation of her ideals and integrity.

Talia opened her mouth once more, prepared to argue further, only for Lyra and Draca's attentions to turn to the rooftop visitor. It was as if the air had left a balloon, the tension between them abating as Mòrag calmly took the reins and directed orders.

The cadet bit back her righteous fury and nodded. There would be plenty of time for pontificating later.

"As you say, then," Talia said, turning to her placid Dragonair and indiciating for her to take to the skies. Lyra looked like a ribbon of blue shimmering through the expanse of sunset, her large bright eyes scouring the premises for other mysterious visitors. Just in case, the elegant Pokemon had begun to perform a DRAGON DANCE in preparation for any unseen attacks.

Moments later, the Dragapult returned, dropping a hapless figure on the ground. Dressed all in black, he looked to be a little younger than them both -- his features smooth, his beady eyes darting from her to Mòrag anxiously from beneath Draca's iron grip.

Talia felt her eyes wander to the other woman as well, her own brow furrowed with concern. What is she planning to do with him, exactly?

Then Lyra crooned in warning, and an explosion rattled the ground -- not from the bank, but from the building two blocks across from it: a shopping center, filled with various boutiques and small tourist shops. Chaos erupted as shoppers, tourists and retail workers fled the premises, the guards in front of POG Bank distracted by the bright flames as several ran to assist or rubberneck.

For a moment, Talia moved as if to follow them -- a hand poised over her Starmie's Pokeball -- only for Mòrag's words to return to her: This is merely a diversion.

Endangering innocent civilians to risk an easier entry to a bank? It left a sick feeling in Talia's stomach, as did not immediately leaping to assist people in need.

"Was this your doing?" she asked the man on the ground, already sure of the answer.

Mòrag Glas ● Bank on It ●

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i'll chase the light of that distant star

Talia hadn't intended to just stand there and let Mòrag Glas lead the interrogation, and yet that was precisely what had occurred in practise.

The flames in the distance distracted her, the cries of civilians filling her with an ache to serve a populace of flesh and blood rather than a bank filled with glittering coins of cold, lifeless gold. Then Mòrag began to threaten the boy below them, and Talia felt her eyes widen. "He is already in our custody," she chided softly. "We do not need to threaten more violence. We will turn him over to the right authorities, and--"

But Talia's thought was never finished, as Mòrag freed the young man with a threat punctuated by Draca's snort of displeasure.

It was not the time to argue. It was not the time to get indignant. Even so, the look that Talia gave her companion was frank in its utter disbelief.

"I suppose you follow your own code, then?" she said at last. "And that my input as your partner in this mission is unwanted?"

It was a rhetorical question, in the end. They had no time to feud.

"Lyra," she said instead, exhaling as she turned the thoughts aside and her Dragonair returned to her side, "AQUA TAIL. Quell the flames."

A spray of glistening droplets fell like rain from where the serpentine Pokemon wove through the air, dampening the fires of the explosion. "Let us go, then," Talia said, running towards the bank's entrance... which had been utterly devastated with the rubble.

Another Pokeball appeared in the turquoise-haired woman's hands, this time thrown into the air to reveal a Flygon. "Navi," she directed, not stopping in her movement, "BULLDOZE." The green Pokemon eagerly leapt forward, excavating the ruins to allow for easy passage into the main foyer of the building.

Rotoms floated overhead as they attempted to crack a heavy vault that possessed scorch marks from where an Electrode had exploded moments before. What few guards remained were locked in Pokemon battles, attempting to distract the criminals and their Pokemon from their objective. At a quick glance, the matter looked well in hand.

And yet.

Talia turned to Mòrag, a question in her eyes. "This can't be all of them," she whispered, sensing a trap. It was too... inefficient, too awkward a process, for such an elaborate operation that spanned several explosions.

Whatever this paltry theater of criminality was on the bottom floor, it was hardly the evening's final act.

Mòrag Glas ● Bank on It ●