Marcella walked the dark streets of the city like she belonged. Her now mostly empty backpack hung loosely off her left shoulder as she marched towards her destination, on her heels Vile -- heads down and arms wrapped around the canister it had been handed. As she walked she scanned her surroundings with great care disguised as lazy glances.

Every once in a while she saw someone, or a pokemon, and when they looked at her curiously she merely smiled and waved. If they approached they were invariably scared off by the odd, foreign pokemon at Marcella's back that snapped its teeth and hissed at them. Eventually there was no one left to wave at or ward off. This was what she'd been looking for. An abandoned corner of the city with low traffic and empty buildings.

"Give me the canister," she demanded of her pokemon and was quickly obeyed. Marcella's no-longer-free right hand dangled at her side (weighed down) with the canister held loosely by a few fingers as she hunted now for a specific building. Maybe with broken, boarded windows or a condemned sign. It didn't take long to find a shop matching that description. An old grocery with half the letters of its name missing.

Unfortunately there was someone already scoping the place out. Just her luck. It took everything in her to put the mask back on.

"Excuse me, sir, is there anything I can help you with?" Marcella asked and the man whirled around. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over, before widening at the sight of her pokemon and canister. Already she was preparing excuses when his reaction threw her into a rare, stunned bewilderment.

'Shit, I thought he was working alone,' he cursed, reaching for something at his belt. No, Marcella didn't think so.

"Blind him," she said simply and, before the man could free whatever weapon (pokemon or steel) he had, he was hit in the face by a SPICY EXTRACT. He howled and clutched at the suddenly red and angry skin. Clawed at his eyes.

Marcella tossed the gas canister aside with the same carelessness with which she'd released Vile. Approached the man as he still reeled and kicked him, hard, between the legs. When he fell to his knees she followed, squatting down and resting her arms on her knees.

"Who is he," she asked, "And what kind of work is he doing tonight?"

The man wasn't of much use as a source of information after the SPICY EXTRACT to the face. No matter how Marcella asked or prodded his answer was the same: crying, yelling, gripping at his face. She'd overwhelmed him. It was a shame, and she was ready to call her night at that when the sound of dilapidated hinges squealing pulled her attention to the store's entrance.

Like on the walk here, Vile was the first to break the silence as it snarled defensively. Like when it was let out of its pokeball, Marcella silenced the Scovillain with a rough slap to the head -- this time the red one. Fair's fair.

Marcella did not immediately fill the now quiet air with words of her own, though. She stood and searched the man in front of her in much the same way he searched her.

Tall. Good posture. Angry face -- just his face or was he . . . Probably expectant. Marcella knew she would be if she were doing some kind of work and interrupted by a couple of strangers. So then he likely wanted answers.

"I was in the area when this man attacked me," she said matter-of-factly, gesturing to the still downed man beside her, "it seems he thought I was here with you, which I'm not, but given he tried to assault me over this perceived connection I'd like to know what you're up to."

A second's pause as an idea occurred to her, a way to better her position and the odds of an answer.

"I'll even give you this man in trade. Even if I'm ignorant of everything else, I assume he's some enemy of yours."