After several minutes of quiet panic, miniature anxiety attacks, and several tranquilizer darts, the Walking Wake had been subdued. June tossed the scratch-marked gun to the ground and shook her sopping wet sleeves around. It'd take her ages to get dry, even in the warm sun. Her socks especially. Several deep breaths carried her to the edge of the area, through the puddles.

Several deep, awful puddles. The entire holding facility, with all the cages of the Pokémon the Rangers wanted to look into, was more akin to a swamp or mire than a proper pen. It reeked of dung and dampness and sweat and blood and who knew what else. No way in hell the rangers failed to notice this mess for... 

June fished out her phone and clicked the lock. It failed to turn on, and several milliliters of water poured out from the charge outlet. Fuck. She's fucked. In the aftermath, it was almost impossible to feel anything but emotionally detached from the scenario. Arceus be damned, this was a terrible idea. All because Mila wanted to examine the fucking Walking Wake. What a disaster. 

"So." The delivery girl pocketed her phone and took off her sweatshirt. "How inspirational was that. For you. Good enough for your next project?"

Thank Arceus her hair was short. If it was even below average instead of just entirely out of left field, she'd be really pissed right about now. Instead, she grumbled apathetically and pulled her hands through the wet globs. Oh, good. Some of that was spit. Gross. 

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mila alexopoulos