blythe, illuminated from the front by a fire set within a burning aluminum pyre and flanked by her florges, sweats when she glances at the man at her side.

Priya Kosch. symbol of her failure.

she's happy-go-lucky to a fault. too excitable for her own good, too. while others sometimes praise her for this, finding good hope in such naive optimism, it has proven to be her downfall more often than not. this particular outing comes on the tailwind of a failed operation on the docks of sootopolis, where she nearly died a watery death at the hands of the ocean after being pushed in, and the culprit she had been chasing went on to cause irreparable damage to the hoennian supply lines. she's been assigned a guardian, a watchdog, somebody to look and see every failure blythe still carries.

of course, she's nervous. how could she not be? every second spent in priya's unerring, stern presence is another second blythe spends wondering if she will ever be cut out for this job—if she should just quit while she's ahead.

nonetheless, a minute spent at ground zero dispels these worries entirely. she's reminded of exactly why she joined the force in the first place when she stomps toward a group of young masked individuals smashing a smoking storefront with bats, sending glass shards shattering out across the street. there's a young woman inside the store still, cowering behind the counter.

she stands no chance of arresting these people just by her lonesome with her pokemon. the true focus here is ensuring the woman is safe, regardless of any arrests made. this is the whole reason she's here—protecting people.

so her florges, without even being told, sends a curling vine through the air to mark a barrier between the three troublemakers and the shattered storefront they now eye. as the troublemakers follow the vine to its source, blythe does her best to look as stern and authoritative as possible, with her hands on her hips and her deep blue eyes narrowed.

"disperse." her voice cracks. "or be detained."

blythe's breath catches in her throat.

there's more than she thought. they're belligerent, incorrigible, stubborn. they have flamethrowers, smog, grimer, and the woman is still in the shop. with every second blythe spends in the smoke-filled street, she feels more and more out of her depth. is she really meant for this? for any of this? she's a country bumpkin playing cops and robbers, wearing a badge because it makes her feel better than she is, and her folly is possibly the only line between an innocent life and genuine destruction. what can she possibly do?

she glances over her shoulder at priya, searching. then her face steels.

she has to do something, regardless of what happens. she doesn't know if she has the firepower to back any of her bravado up, but she's gotta try.

though donmai cringes at the fire burning away her vine, she looks to blythe for guidance, and blythe gives it with a firm, determined nod of her head. "razor leaf, please," she whispers, hoping desperately that such use of force is what's needed in this situation and not an oversight. donmai nods, recovering from her injury with a regal nod of her head, and leaves transiently levitate around her head. a second passes where they hang in the air, a pregnant pause of tension, before unleashing.

hopefully, this is enough deterrent. and hopefully, it will wipe away the smog as well, as blythe bravely begins her descent into the raided store.

---

Priya Kosch

the clerk runs away amid the chaos, between razor-sharpened leaves, smoke, and fire. blythe can't help but smile, but her expression dawns too quickly. a loud moan of pain emanates from donmai, blythe's florges, as scizor leaps forth and strikes her in the torso with a heavy fist crusted over with steel. blythe's smile immediately fades into a mix of both concern and... anger. possibly the angriest she's ever felt. dual flames burn in her eyes as she sets her sights on the young, bleeding trainer whose leveraged this deep injustice against her, the clerk, and her hometown of oldale.

blythe looks down at her florges. she'll faint, that much is given. she's weak to scizor—it's a zero sum battle. the only thing blythe can imagine working in this situation is setting up a buff for the next pokemon the officer sends out, as no amount of leaves, vines, or winds will stand to penetrate the scizor's incredible defense.

so, face haloed by fire and flames, she gives the command. "wish."

florges' eyes narrow, nigh imperceptibly, before raising her head to sky. the moon and stars, obscured as they are by plumes of rising smoke, seem to twinkle in response as she bows. if anything, it will give blythe some time to ensure there's nobody else in the building as she lures closer and closer to the now burning store. her eyes peer through the broken storefront in search of any further victims.

---

Priya Kosch