faction lines are nothing in the face of great need. it's a sentiment blythe has always held—when blood is spilled and weapons have been drawn, her only allegiance is to humanity, to ensuring everyone has food and water and shelter, that nobody goes left behind or forgotten. she doesn't know where she learned this. perhaps, just like she did so many years ago, it came across on early spring breezes, transported from far away, and planted in her mind to flower under duress. the idea has matured by now, but it still retains the naivety of her youth, tempered from her time in the academy.

and that naivety may be the death of her.

someone is climbing up the side of the shipment boat. she doesn't even recognize it, too distracted by the cold, cool waves that lap so kindly against her fingertips, but donmai does. her eyes lift up and towards the ship, and she immediately picks out the shadow of a white-cloaked ruffian scaling the side of the boat. donmai, alarmed yet keeping her head high, slowly unfurls a vine from the pillow of flowers her head rests within. the vine shifts towards blythe's shoulder, then gently taps down upon it.

blythe only briefly glances up from the crystalline waters. "are you seeing this, donmai?" she enthuses, blue eyes glittering just like the sea does, reflected back on her irises. "i've never been this close before!"

donmai taps again, this time with far more urgency. blythe furrows her brows, then glances back to where the florges is indicating to.

it's with a start that blythe suddenly recognizes the person climbing the side of the boat. alarmed, she calls out to the person with a frown. "hello, sir or ma'am or..." she pauses, purses her lips, then continues, unperturbed. "you can't be up there! this is a secured area!"

---

Isaac Merlo

today is the first time blythe has ever had to speak with such authority!

alas, it seems even her best efforts at intimidating the white-clad figure into jumping away from the ship are useless at best. her high hopes, as they astronomically soar, are immediately grounded in a blinding flash of light as a volbeat apparates from the stranger's newly-wielded pokeball. blythe barely gets time to shield her eyes before the firefly pokemon's tail flashes into incandescence, spreading light in every direction and stunning every civilian without the wherewithal and swift reflexes to throw their arms over their faces.

a few moments pass as blythe recovers, stumbling on the dock in a dizzy haze. donmai steadies her with a single, reaching vine, but that's all she can offer, blinded herself. all around her, innocent dockers also rub at their faces and eyes and cry out in confusion and concern, but their spurious sounds only give cause and reason for blythe to pick up the pace in her own recovery. the culprit could be getting away as she stands there like an idiot, goddamnit! it's with a grit of her teeth that blythe blinks rapidly before finally forcing her eyes open, only to discover that the white-robed stranger is completely gone, now entirely absent from the ship's white hull. she frowns and scowls in response, a twisted expression twinkling deep in her ocean blue eyes. this can't go unpunished!

with rapid economy, blythe rushes away from her spot on the docks with only a hand motion to signify that donmai should be following. from there, she surges towards the docked ship and, with a few mumbled apologies, boards the ship past stumbling sailors and young men and women carrying heavy wooden boxes. before long, she's on the ship, and her eyes are rapidly scanning her immediate surroundings.

luckily for Isaac, she manages to overlook the makeshift dhelmise grappling hook linked across the side of the ship. instead, she seeks information in the sailors themselves. with a look of utmost sincerity, she rushes towards the nearest sailor, and with a great sense of frenzied energy, she immediately begins her interrogation!

"you! have you seen a man in white clothing around her that you don't recognize?" she queries with wide eyes. before long, she digs her police badge off her lapel to present it to the sailor. "i have reason to believe they pose a danger to this ship!"

---

Isaac Merlo

the sailors, though friendly, provide little to no help in regards to blythe's investigation. though she maintains a polite smile as they speak to her and each other, occasionally calling over their shoulders or mustering a grunt beneath their supply loads, she can't help but grind her teeth. the culprit is still out there, perhaps lurking within the very ship that they all stand upon, and she's just wasted precious few moments getting information that may end up leading nowhere!

until the winds change, bringing better fortune with it. a white jacket turns up on the deck, and quickly comes into blythe's custody at the behest of the sailors. finally, something she can make use of! with the appearance of this single piece of evidence, blythe summarily reasons that she need not harry the sailors any further. they have work to do, and so does she.

"thank you, both of you!" she affirms with a quick bow of her head to each sailor in turn, all while clutching the white coat tightly between her seeking fingertips. "i'll get to the bottom of this!"

and then she turns, police coat streaming behind her as she descends into the cargo hold from a staircase on the brig.

she can't ignore the instinct that rises up inside of her throat like magma in a volcano. she firmly and sternly believes that the suspect is inside of the ship as she walks the long, winding hallways beneath the deck, dark and damp and plagued by a heavy, all-encompassing atmosphere. what he's doing within, though? that remains a mystery, and it's the most concerning mystery of the entire case. that single unknown could dissolve the entire job she was assigned to within seconds, which makes it doubly important that she find this white-cloaked individual as soon as possible. so she walks quickly, feet moving faster than even her mind.

when the officer rounds a corner, though, she finds herself looking squarely at a stranger on the opposite end of a long hallway. blond, rough and tumble, but not wearing white. he doesn't fit the description, and yet...

blythe raises the white coat in his palms and then glances between him and it as if judging whether it would fit him or not. it's not difficult to imagine that the suspect could be shearing such a noticeable outfit in an effort to avoid detection. could it be that she's actually found her culprit?

---

Isaac Merlo

that jacket. that mask.

it's unmistakable. he's from team rocket.

blythe can't recall how many horror stories she's been told of these fabled troublemakers. terrorism, drugs, smuggling, murder. their list of crimes is longer than she has time to recount. hell, some of these people are members of the most-wanted list back at the station. even more belong to a group of criminals so dangerous that blythe's been forcibly kept from conversations even mentioning them, lest she grows too much of an ego and imagines she can take them on herself.

that would never happen, of course, because blythe's biggest problem is likely her lack of an ego, but such big personalities are endemic to the newest cadets in the force. every precaution comes into play when interacting with team rocket.

so why does her heart slow? he's a part of hoenn's eternal bogeyman force, and yet her mind conjures reasons for why he couldn't be that bad. nurture, not nature, she tells herself. none of these people are born bad, and even those that embrace the label with open arms are still human; they still have the capability to be good. blythe knows some of her superiors would balk at this reasoning—just because they can be good doesn't mean they will, given the circumstances, but blythe can't ignore the possibility in good faith. if she didn't follow this man, blythe's certain she would live to regret it for many years after the fact. his logic's not half bad.

so, after a second of deliberation where she hurriedly works her lower lip between her teeth, blythe takes a chance and nods.

"ok," is her one-word admission as she draws closer to isaac with florges behind her. "lead the way."

---

Isaac Merlo

the pink-haired officer follows blithely after the masked marauder, highlighted only by the occasional floodlight lining the upper walls. he certainly has a good handle on the situation, far better than blythe herself does. it almost makes her jealous to recognize how out of her depth she is, but she clamps down on the feelings just as they arise. she has her own talents, he has his.

she only wishes she could figure out what her talents are.

her addled head is clear by the time they reach the engine room, sequestered behind a monolithic door made of steel and forged in fire. though it is clear, small enough for such a fact to be evident upon a single, swift once-over, the silence therein is more concerning than what they could have found. where else could the interloper be? what irrevocable problems could he be causing to greater sootopolis supply line with this fanatical stunt? what could he possibly want with this cargo liner?

they have to find out soon. isaac makes this abundantly clear—every second they spend worrying about this engine room is another second they could be spending stopping the culprit. alas, worries still creep ever onward. what could happen if they fail to secure this place? the ship sinks? goes aflame? isaac's right—they can't leave the engine room as it is. this time, though, he looks to her for the solution. she pales. how could she possibly come up with a solution?

paralyzation threatens to crawl up her arms as blythe ponders the monolithic task before her. her only escape is allowing instinct to take over.

old man fylleman's words echo in her head as she reaches for a crowbar held within a cranny inside the engine room; 'you need to think before you act, blythe!'

there's none of that here. not a thought goes through her head before she grabs the crowbar, slams the engine room door shut, and wedges the crowbar's hook into the space where the door meets the hinges. of course, the door jams irreparably, barely opening an inch from where it meets its frame. the thoughts only flood in after she's done this—how will they get the crowbar out after this is all over with? will the sailors need to get a specialist out here to remove it? will they have to unmount the door entirely to repair the hinges?

...alas, the door's closed. blythe glances at isaac from the edges of her eyes, looking much like a growlithe that's just torn up the newspaper. "well," she gulps. "nobody's gonna mess with the engine room now."

swallowing thickly, blythe turns on her heels. "cmon! we gotta look at the captain's quarters!"

---

Isaac Merlo

the halls are devoid of the suspect.

prior to her new career choice, blythe would heave a sigh of relief in response to this. alas, her vision of the situation has been modified, irrevocably changed under the fact that the safety of this entire ship now rests squarely on her shoulders... and the shoulders of the strange rocket man she now runs side-by-side with. how strange, blythe thinks to herself, that fate should come to pass like this. sworn enemies in ideology working together to secure the future's common good, something that, in many respects, both of their factions fight for with very different methods.

but intrigue runs deep. every burly security guard she compares to the jacket either seems woefully unfit for the article of clothing or far too fit. the suspect is still a mystery, and the mystery digs deep into her blood as both she and isaac draw near to the captain's quarters.

he fits his ear to the door. silence, he reports, as blythe steps back in an effort to take in the whole picture. red light therein, a sign askew above the door. her face falls as if comprehending a great, terrible truth about the universe.

"something already happened," she concludes breathily, face marred with terror for the future. "...but, when? are they still inside? are they waiting for us?"

there's only one way to find out. blythe pushes donmai in front of her, wary for battle.

"watch out," she whispers to isaac. "i'm gonna open the door."

she steels herself with one deep inhale. as her lungs inflate and she traps the air inside of her chest, she gives the order to donmai who, sharp as a whip, sends a long, snaking vine to wrap around the door knob, twist, and then push in, availing the dynamic duo of the state therein.

---

Isaac Merlo