[attr="class","samjermain"]It was early in the morning on a Thursday. The day itself—considering the skirmish that just happened—shined beautiful and sunny. Children had just finished boarding the bus for school, their parents rushing off to their own personal hells for the next eight to ten hours.

None of these happenings mattered to the famous detective. Nikita did not operate on a banker’s schedule. Much of his work was completed between the hours of midnight and 4 A.M. Typically, this work came accompanied by heavy liquor and a hit of some illicit drug. Sleeping for just a few hours, the dark-haired man would awaken in time to bid his grandson adieu. Then, he would pretend to be another simple salary man—breathing only for the next hit of vengeance.

At his heel, a Houndstone walked. Its red eyes flicked suspiciously beneath its mess of wraith hair—full of judgment and suspicion. “Stone.” This morning, the pair had put the finishing touches on a long, drawn-out missing person case. After chasing their own tails through the man had finally been found. Or, at the very least, what was left of him. While Nikita knew the person who committed the crime no longer breathed, he had left the family with an open, festering wound.

“I believe coffee is in order. Would you--?" A noise emerged from behind him. It was somewhere between a rhino’s charging ruff and what people might imagine a dinosaur’s roar would sound like. Nikita turned, just in time to see a Nidoking barreling toward him. A pair of pince-nex perched upon its horned nose and its eyes were a unique shade—courtesy of its mother. A laptop bag—crafted from worn leather—was slung across its surprisingly slim shoulders.

A look of guilt flashed across Nikita's face. “Ah, Dorian. How lovely to—” It just charged faster. Grabbing the dog at his side, the pair evaded the attack with a Shadow Sneak. Seemingly familiar with this trick, the Nidoking whirled on them. It lifted its claws in a familiar, profane gesture. “Tch.” Nikita sniffed. “--there is no need to be vulgar.”

Caring not for the others on the street, the poison-type charged the pair like a rampaging Tauross. “KIIIIIIIIING!” A Poison Sting erupted to punctuate its cry. Were those tears in its eyes?

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]