It might have been shock, familiarity by virtue of career choice, or both that was the source of Nanette’s lack of reaction. Not that she was completely blank to the gore and chaos in front of her; she shiver wracked her entire body, gooseflesh prickled across her skin, and she felt bile in her throat. If Grandpa Yuriy were here, he probably could have deduced a bulk of the information from a cursory glance. But it was just her. The slice to the femoral artery was clean, almost surgical. If Nanette had to guess, then the injury to the carotid artery was just an extra measure to ensure death.

These two were dead, so there was no use mulling over it until an actual team arrived. Nanette stooped beside a cage, brows knit in concern. Her hands were trembling; Nanette curled them into a fist, nails biting into the skin of her palms.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice, at least, was mostly even. “You’ll be out of here soon.”

She had to be calm. First, an emergency alert sent out to other rangers. Second…well, this wasn’t wholly necessary, and it was likely dangerously stupid, but Nanette vaulted over the open window. Rangers and officers would converge soon, but someone was running. Someone who had gutted the poachers inside like magikarp.

“Hey! Hey you - freeze!”

The raggedy figure had distance on her, but she wasn’t a common desk-jockey. Even if it was for a good cause, you couldn’t just prance around cutting people open.

“What in the world did you do?”

Thomas Benoit

☉

He wore a mask as white as her hair, and his clothing was all black. Making a profile would be difficult with the unhelpful, bare-bones facts: suspect dressed in all black, white mask, approximately 6 feet tall, unknown build, presumed male. It was the appearance of over half the criminals in the world who were worth their salt. His voice was distorted as if through a filter, but his words were still clear. He did not believe in the League, and was taking matters into his own hands. In a book, Nanette would have been impressed. But this was real life and not some romantic story about handsome leading men and dashing warrior women.

Nanette made an inarticulate noise that was half shocked and half frustrated.

“There was likely already a case being built on them. There was no need for all of that.”

Still, she would be lying if she said she didn’t understand a bit. The remaining poachers were screaming and shouting, but the Pokémon were crying out just as loudly. When backed into a corner, any animal would react violently. Even the gentlest of creatures were born of claw and fang.

Between apprehending a vigilante with clearly no issue against violence and trying to ease the distress of the captured Pokémon…it was a difficult decision. Nanette chewed her lip.

“Please, just come quietly.”

She would try it once. But there had to be some order back inside or else one of the Pokémon could get hurt or run off. Then it’d be a whole other debacle on top of a grisly crime scene.

Thomas Benoit

☉

This was definitely an impromptu mission meant for a ranger of actual experience. If she tried to help the raging Pokémon downstairs, she’d likely be torn apart and then what good would she be? If she tried to go after this vigilante, then there was still a chance for horrific injury. But if he was going after the next target…it had to be someone bigger. At least there, there would be concrete evidence. A metaphoric paper trail of notes and files; maybe she could actually diffuse the situation.

“Can you at least leave the next one…alive? For now? There’s more evidence that can be gleaned.”

This man could go either with her…or Nanette would give him a head start then have d’Artagnan track him and she’d give chase. Either way, she’d be there. She wasn’t so naïve to believe that pacifism was the absolute answer to everything, but it was law and structure that separated people from real monsters…Besides, what was this? That hit-fantasy-television-show-turned-flop – Aegis and Slash?

Thomas Benoit

☉