[attr="class","nikita"]A long-time Rocket target of his had run into this mist. Perhaps in hopes of escaping their dogged stalker. A ploy which—quite obviously—failed. "Hm." By the time he’d tracked the man and his Zebstrika down, they’d been relieved of their heads. Only a single bloodied footprint served to identify the perpetrator. After quickly logging it, Nikita turned back the way he had come.

Nikita had encountered this mist earlier this evening and a few times before that. It did not scare him. The tricks it played on his mind relied on phantoms and grief. But the detective did not believe in ghosts, at least not in this sense. And, fortunately, it seemed whatever creature had dispatched his mortal enemy had vanished in the swirling fog. His skeletal Houndoom mask provided some protection from the mist’s hallucinatory effects. That did not stop him from initially brushing Kazimir’s cries off as a delusion.

But then the man shouted again. With a glance at his companion—an old, surprisingly large Houndstone—Nikita rushed toward the sound’s source. That is not to say that he ran--that would be an inelegant, messy mode of travel. “Do you make a habit of announcing yourself on the battlefield?” Though his heart seemed to be in the right place, it was also in the right place to get shot. “It is a lovely way to—” Something stirred the mist around them as a wing dipped dangerously close to them. “--attract attention.”


With a mechanical roar, the Iron Jugulus swooped down toward them. All three of its maws began to glow hot pink—the energy a few seconds away from spilling out. With a sigh, Nikita gestured Winters into a battle stance. "Play rough."

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

[attr="class","nikita"]The hound rushed forward to inflict punishment on the robotic monstrosity before him. Earlier that day, they’d tangled with one carrying a bomb. Fortunately, in this subterranean cavern, it could not disappear high into the aether. As the sounds of battle rose, Nikita sighed. “You were calling attention to yourself.” His words are clipped, and cultured. His hands reach up to make a slight adjustment to his mask—reminding himself that he cannot sate his nicotine addiction with it on.

As the Iron Hands appeared, Nikita’s eyes watched it in fascination. These illogical, alien creatures reminded him of young Sam’s drawings. A strange thing drafted by the mind of a child—most of them a disturbing mix of ‘cool’ and unrealistic. If this place was truly the result of dreams, Nikita hoped it could conjure an actually interesting case. He was starting to get itchy again. “Again, please.” A simple request is dispatched to Winters, as the dog targets the head opposite of the Iron Hands.

The talk of saving people made his nose wrinkle. “May I remind you that this is a battlefield?” Even from down here, one could make out the sounds of war: firing weapons, deadly clashes, and desperate shouts. “There is no one on this island who did not know what dangers they faced.” Even the children he had encountered had been at the briefing. “No one here is innocent.”

A brief glance at his hand showed them red. Dripping in ichor and gore. In the drips he could see screaming faces—the people he’d ended in his endless question for revenge. He blinked and the illusion was gone. "Certainly not me." From his holster, he pulled out a gun. As he raised it to shoot, a Dark Pulse ended the ground between the two men and their Pokemon.

But where had it come from?

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective sighed as his companion expressed a do-gooder mindset. It was the sort of thing that got people killed—typically the people who clung to such idealism. Such lofty inflexibility also tended to snap the person with those morals. There was a reason trees that bent were the least likely to snap. Instead of responding to this, however, Nikita simply nodded. “I see.”

Hopefully, one of those saved lives would not relieve the man of his own. It’d be quite a mess to clean up. And, perhaps, a pity. There was a place for heroes in this world. It just was not here or now. “I do not believe a sense of self-preservation does anyone harm.” An ironic statement from the man who subsisted on revenge, alcohol, and illicit substances. In many ways, it was a stretch to call him a man at all—revenant would be a more accurate term.

Discussions of moral philosophy had no place on the battlefield, however. There were more immediate concerns. As the second creature appeared, Nikita could not resist a flat, “How astute.” He sighed. “I hadn’t noticed.’ Unfortunately, Winters was occupied with their multi-headed friend. His surprisingly swift movements seemingly made to tie the creature up in knots.

“Tch.” Skeletal fingers slid down to his belt. The Pokemon he tossed out was not his—it was something a woman left with him. For some reason, she decided chattel payments were still in fashion. In the end, he felt guilty ridding himself of the creature. “Come out, Mirabella.” A Wigglytuff burst from its depths. Her expression was haughty and domineering. “Hit it with a disarming voice.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

[attr="class","nikita"]At the negative reaction, the fairy-type’s irritation grew. How dare this—this beast insult her voice in such a way! She had trained at fine vocal academies beside her trainer! It took air sharply through its nose, blowing up like a balloon as its sound grew in volume. Then, the thing shook off some white, dusty things onto her blush-colored fur. “Tuf!” Her tiny arms lifted to protect her face as she staggered back.

What a nasty, naughty thing! Spraying me with dandruff! Fortunately, the stun spore didn’t take immediate effect. With a shake of her marshmallow body, the Wigglytuff rocketed toward the Brute Bonnet. “Wiggly!” With a surprisingly fierce cry, it landed on the plant with all the fury of a typical Play Rough. As its last attack hit, the thing froze like a Deerling in the headlights. Sparks arced across its fur like lightning on a Tesla coil.

With three Pokemon in tight quarters, the Houndstone’s movements were a carefully orchestrated dance. Just as he attacked one head, another would dart at his bony legs. Electricity sparked across the dragon’s scales as the Iron Hands smashed into it with a clang. At the same time, the ghoulish hound touched down. “!?” A pained yelp emerged as he dropped to the ground with a bony clutter.

With a glare at his compatriot, Winters clambered back to his feet. When the green flames began to rain, the hound again leaped into the fray. This time, his attack aimed to bounce the dragon’s attacks off of (and into) one another like balls in a Newton’s cradle.

Nikita, meanwhile, was left to pat out a fire on his suit. "We should try to finish these quickly." A sigh pushed from his reedy chest. "These things are like Carvanha."

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

[attr="class","nikita"]“It is.” Nikita remarked simply to Kazimir. There was no pity in his blue-grey gaze. Then again, these days, he wondered if he was allergic to such feelings. He had certainly known people to develop a lactose allergy later in life. Perhaps it was the same for vulnerable emotions.

Nikita watched as the Brute Bonnet dissolved into purple-tinged ashes. If not for a need to conserve bullets, he would have stepped in to put the thing out of its misery. As it breathed its last. “Fire is a terrible way to go.” He was fortunate that the concussive blasts had killed his family long before the flames reached them. Only his grandson’s Vulpix—named Snowy—showed any sign of what had happened that night.

As the Scream Tail emerged, Nikita shook his head. Before he could unload his handgun into the dastardly thing, Kazimir threw himself between them.

“As I said, they are swarming creatures.” His only thanks to the bulkier gentleman came as a single nod—the closest he came to gushing these days. It was not as if he had been in much danger, after all.

Then again, if the outrageous idea of their existence was to be believed, it was he and his companion who summoned them. And, as the battle wore on, they would no doubt be forced to think of more nightmarish creatures. It truly was an interesting, if annoying, mechanism. Before he could give out an order, Mirabella gritted her teeth. With agonizing concentration, she turned to face the disgusting little imitator behind her. Look at those nasty teeth and that garish ponytail! An insult to their kind!

Even as it was tossed away, the Wigglytuff gave chase. Her strange, undulating cry somehow more primal than the prehistoric creature himself. The next sigh sounded as if his very soul left his body. “I am sure she will be fine.”

For the hundredth time that night, Nikita wished he had brought a flying type. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder—the result of an earlier battle with @tempest—he threw out another Pokeball. Unfortunately, Ignatius was down. That left him with no choice but to rely on a rather new acquisition. Another result of a client who thought he bartered in flesh. “I believe we can be of some assistance."

A Lanturn emerged from the fading red light. It was obviously much younger than anything on Nikita’s team. It wore a wide smile and still had the sparkle of youth in its eyes. Something war would soon rid him of. “Use Blizzard, please.” With a gurgling noise, the fish did was asked. The harsh, keening winds of ice soon pushed the mist away in a blinding, white snowstorm.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

Nikita Sokolov

MP: 60 [post + ko own pokemon]
MP TOTAL: 205

[attr="class","nikita"]The Wigglytuff’s attack is stopped by the spinning pink demon. With a cry, the fairy-type falls to its bum. The Scream Tail rolls over it like a bus, springing back to its feet on the other side. Taking advantage of its dizziness, Mirabella springs after it again. This time, the marshmallow Pokemon aims to bring the pain with a devastating Body Slam.

As the icy wind whips around them, Nikita’s eyes peer through the mixture of white and iridescent. Behind him, Howard and the nameless Iron Hands stood. The fish swirled anxiously in the snowstorm. Each flick of his tail sent ripples spinning through the mist—perhaps summoning them like the jerked string in a spiderweb. When Kazimir spoke, the detective turned toward him with an incredulous expression. Instead of voicing his disbelief, the older man settled for a sigh. “Putting a genie back in the bottle is rarely simple.”

Howard—hovering above the craggy ground—did not feel nor perceive the danger. “Hm?” Nikita turned as the steel fighter rushed the fish. Skeletal fingers tightened on his trigger. Was this a betrayal? Before he could get any farther, he was forced to lift his arm to shelter his face from the flying dirt. “Tch.” A flash of green caught his eyes as the Iron Thorns took center stage.

With a shake of his head, Nikita turned toward the exit. “We need to go.” Every moment in this place was a push against the inevitable. It would be only so long before these creatures overwhelmed them.

The Lanturn bounced off the ground and into the surrounding mist. He made a noise of alarm as the world spun in a kaleidoscope. With a turtle-like flip, he bounced himself right-side up. “Winters!” With a nervous flick of his tail, the water type approached his master’s voice. This gave him a front-side view as the dog pounded toward the newcomer.

Then, as they touched, the pair vanished through a strange, violet portal. Hopefully one it would not come back from.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","pokkenger"]

[attr="class","nikita"]At the talk of not needing to repeat himself, Nikita sighed. What a useless thing to say. His flat lips merely pursed more tightly. “That is fortunate.” The agent's grey eyes flickered briefly to the tree. He offered it a simple nod of greeting.

His gaze then slid toward the Iron Thorns. Its rate of motion was surprising—its heavy armor posing no real obstacle to its locomotion. When ordered to make haste, Nikita only inclined his head. He did not wish to deprive someone with a hero’s complex from getting their fix. “I will see you on the other side.” With that, he began to jog away, hoping to evade the influence of the figurative blood in the water.

The Z-move drew a raised brow. While it was certainly welcome, it certainly seemed a bit overly theatrical.

A sharp whistle—meant to corral his Pokemon toward him—did nothing of the sort. He caught a glimpse of his Wigglytuff as she was sent careening through the air. An attempt to return her ended in a sputtering of red light. A spindle from an Iron Jugulus cut through the mist. There was a deep growl and a call of puff ball alarm. Something metal clanged together.

“. . .” This time, when he pushed the ball, nothing emerged. It was as dead as Marley in The Christmas Carol. Which meant little Mirabella was similarly doornail like. He did not offer an apology, for he had nothing to give it to. Still, he would drink something to her this night. When Kazimir appeared through the mist, Nikita sighed. “The Wigglytuff seems to have become a snack.”

As his eyes scoured the mist, they narrowed. “I am sure Winters is well. He will return when he has dealt with the attacker.” Howard, however, was more of a wildcard. “We would be better to be focused on ourselves, however.” The longer they fought, the more these beasts would swarm. It was an impossible fight.

With a pounding heart, he attempted another recall. This time the light found its target. Briefly, the fog lit up in the outline of the Lanturn before it faded from view. Suddenly, the trajectory of the mists seem to change. There was now a chill to them and a motion. More like a spring’s dampness than the dense, opaque soup of earlier.“I believe the exit is just ahead.”

But was it still unguarded?

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter