[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]"reyes approaching," she murmurs into the device. a soft click follows and then, it's just her and the shadows once more. it shouldn't be much farther now... the soft ghastly glow of a will-o-wisp dances across the alley as she continues. fur brushes against her ankles, reassuring and protective all at once. instead of her usual companions, she's returning to old habits and old comforts. a ninetales sticks as close as possible, crimson eyes almost glistening with something deadly against the darkness.

the clicking of heels against concrete gives her away before her appearance does.

"stone, right?" she inquires, slowly sliding up to his side without warning. there's an urgency in her veins, a certain kind of determination she hasn't felt before. perhaps it's the situation, the disgusting nature of what lies ahead. illegal experiments. the very concept has her both nauseous and livid all at once. people treating pokemon like test subjects, tools to further their own revolting agendas. it's sickening. part of her wonders if she'll have the stomach to handle what they could see. and, better yet, part of her knows she has to.

the glow of the will-o-wisp brings recognition and with it, a nervous smile. "i didn't know you would be here," she whispers after a moment. her hand betrays her and drifts toward his almost subconsciously.

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]her smile is warm, head dipping in greeting to galahad. alexander is slow to turn at first, distracted by the house in question. it makes sense, she supposes. evil lurks behind those walls, revolting things occurring in the shadows. it makes her skin crawl and she's stepping closer to combat the sensation. his expression softens when he does take notice of her presence, just enough that any steeled nerves she had prepared for this mission are now lost. there's this thing about him that tends to make her feel too safe, too secure. perhaps it will be her undoing.

"i'm glad to see you," she blurts out as his hand drifts close enough for her fingers to tentatively snag his. the contact is calming, almost as grounding as it had been back in rustboro. she holds onto it for a little too long, greedy and desperate.

and then, her hand is dropping at the mention of business. right, they have a job to do. lives to protect, pokemon to save. feelings can wait. "blocking?" her head tilts slightly as if considering the options. pokemon have been known to be able to act as buffers for the abilities psychic types possess. or, with the constant advances in technology, it could be a man made machine for the sole purpose of flying under the radar. perhaps both, even. the thought has her stomach mildly churning with nerves. "if they're performing experiments, they could have the technology to mask their activity." her ninetales bristles at the tone of her voice, the way the syllables tremble. "the one aura in the room," she glances toward the destination in question. "that one might be easier to deal with first."

her gaze sweeps back to him with a trace of fear in dark eyes. there's a pit in her stomach she can't shake, increasing with each moment they linger out here. what even is it? dread, she decides with another beat of silence. she feels dread.

"how do you want to proceed?"

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]warmth blooms between smiles, mirror images of the same affection. her hand squeezes at his in response to the words. tentatively, she glances toward the building, speaking in hushed tones. "i wish it were under better circumstances." there's a somberness that drags the air down around them, their bubble popping at the smooth surface.

even with the comfort and security he provides, the dread doesn't lessen in her stomach. slowly it spreads and is soon joined by worry. will they be alright doing this? it's dangerous, incredibly so, and she's unable to hide the nervousness that threatens to overtake her. fidgeting, she sticks close and flammae presses closer to her legs.

"that sounds like a good idea," she murmurs. a thought occurs, then, and she's lost in contemplation. will subduing the one aura alert the possible others? will those in the basement hear the scuffle? or will it give them the element of surprise? she's uncertain, glancing toward him for guidance. "do you think they'll give us any answers?" somehow, she has her doubts in the act of extracting information.

they move toward the building, flammae quick to extinguish the faint blue glow of will-o-wisp as their destination nears. she's trying to step lightly, to quiet the click of heels against pavement. the scientist presses as close as she can to the wall, to him, to the shadows. it's difficult to be stealthy, she decides with another glance spared toward the building. she's out of her element now. their movement stills and she's looking to him as a finger rises. a nod follows and before she can even blink, galahad is teleporting into the building. dread continues to swell in her body and she's tense as the moments pass. a sigh of relief is what allows her to tentatively relax, his words easing her into a state of relief. galahad made it. he subdued the aura. he's okay. she meets his gaze and a slow bob of her head follows. it's funny, her hands almost ache with the need to hold his in the face of adversity. is that normal? her response is meek yet somehow firm but the small smile flashed in his direction wobbles.

"ready."

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]she stays silent in the face of his hope, struggling to swallow back the way her heart lurches into her throat. hope and dread mingle and mix into something confusing, something dangerous. the situation before them is too grave for her to head in with expectations that will only be crushed. she knows this, understands it even. and yet, she wants to believe that things aren't as bad as they feel. it's foolish, really. they're worse than what she fears, impossibly so.

he begins to move and she follows, blindly, faithfully. the door is unlocked and she tries to not think too much of it but something about it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. if they're doing something so awful, so disgusting in the basement... why leave the door unlocked? it's unsettling in a way she despises and her body tenses. no, she has to be wrong. there's no way this is a trap. right?

if she presses any closer to the wall, the wallpaper just might swallow her up. it's cool behind her back, grounding her into this hallway, this situation. in front of her, alexander signals toward one of the options laid out in front of them. another nod is earned in response. galahad must have the single aura in there... is he out of commission? ready to talk? there's too many possibilities, enough to make her tentative as they head in that direction. a particular door causes her to pause, to glance toward it with a swallow. flammae nudges her knee to keep her focused, to keep her on track, but her eyes drift back even as they continue. is that the way to the basement? probably and she just knows in every fiber of her begin that she won't enjoy what's down there.

she has to stifle a gasp when they enter the room. for the most part, it looks like a normal kitchen. a little bare, even, but normal enough that it doesn't make her skin crawl like she thought it would. her gasp comes in response to the sight of the man, held in place by galahad pressing an arm into his mouth. covering the endeavor of talking, masking any attempts of gathering attention from whoever else could linger in the rest of the building. only when alexander drifts closer with a question rolling off his tongue does the psychic type lower his arm. the man's voice is grating on her ears, eliciting a shiver in response. everything about him puts her on edge. maybe it's the way he spits at them or the thoughts of what's beneath their very feet.

no, it's what he says next that really unnerves her.

scraps. what... what does he mean by that? flammae snarls softly at her legs and she's tensing at the sound. dread pools and coils in her stomach and it's taking everything in her to fight off waves of nausea as they come. "what do you mean by scraps?" comes out as a whisper, too meek and tentative for her liking. gingerly, she steps out from behind alexander, shoulder brushing against his as she moves closer. her eyes narrow with a hint of anger and her body screams for her to get as far away from this criminal as possible but she stays rooted in place, hands settling onto both sides of her hips. "what did you do?"

something tells her she really will not like the answers she receives.

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]where he steels himself and covers the cracks, she finds herself breaking apart. it's subtle at first. a single shift, a single crack in the composure she had struggled to craft in the first place. and then, there's more pressure applied, more pieces breaking apart until she's barely able to hold it together.

"right," she half murmurs, half sighs. her head shakes and she's narrowing dark eyes with a single step forward. alexander circles the man like a predator would prey and it's difficult to not follow his movement, to not allow her eyes to drift from the suspect. "so you're just here because you feel like it then?" part of her recognizes the hint of a lie but it's baffling considering the word choice. vile. if what they're doing in the basement of this building disgusts him then... why assist? why comply? why not stop it?

her mouth opens to press further, to shoot out question after question until the man breaks. yet, it's alexander's halting movement that stops her from speaking. her gaze darts to him, to where he stands in front of the fridge. the man pipes up, once again offering words of discouragement. they won't like what's in there. somehow, her gut had already informed her of such a fact. the way dread continues to build and coil has her on edge.

alexander doesn't listen, doesn't even give the man so much of an indicator as to hearing the warning. his fingers wrap around the handle of the fridge and pull.

silence falls. neither of them move and... the first thing she notices is the smell. it's sour, nauseating, overpowering. her stomach churns further and she's gasping back the sudden urge to hurl. hands rise to cover her mouth, to hold it back. and then, she understands what the source is. packages of plastic wrapped parts lay perfectly placed on shelves, each one labeled with a different name. some she recognizes, some she doesn't. one in particular stands out, however. vulpix. oh god, she's going to be sick.

"how," she gags, quick to turn her back on the contents of the fridge and force herself closer to the subdued man. "how dare you." her voice is low, angry, crumbling. tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she's trying to blink them away. funny, she had always known she was an angry crier but this is too much... illeana leans into the man's space, lips settling into half of a snarl. "i'll ask you again," she grits out. "what the hell did you do?"

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]that god awful smell feels like it lingers in every corner of the room, every inch of her sinuses until it's all she can focus on. oh god, how could anyone do such a thing? she had always known there were people out there in the world capable of such things but... she never thought she'd actually come face to face with one, let alone stumble upon the acts themselves. somehow, it's almost worse than she'd ever imagined, as if her imagination hadn't even come close to the real thing.

another gulp of air is swallowed down with a desperateness she hasn't known before. nausea rises and falls and she struggles to hold it back, to keep herself from losing the contents of her stomach. a sharp inhale from over her shoulder gives her an inkling that alexander might be having a similar reaction. had he meant to even give her the opportunity to see with her own eyes? part of her believes no because really, who would want anyone to see that? she wants to turn away from the man, wants to shrink back into alexander's side and crumble but it won't do her any good. not right now. not when this man is still speaking, still divulging information.

they.

he's nothing more than a guard dog and somehow, that's just as bad. her face deepens into its scowl at the thought. he's sitting by and allowing these people to perform such vile things instead of stopping them. hell, he's even protecting the abomination they call work. despicable. illeana holds her tongue and steps away from the man's bubble of space, allowing alex to take her place with questions. flammae sticks even closer to her legs than before, soft fur and radiating warmth a comfort in the cruelty of this building.

the man refuses to say anything further, clamming up as soon as the question is uttered. how long ago had they been in these very walls? and while she wants to know the answer, a more pressing question rises to the forefront of her mind and her body tenses at the thought. and when will they be coming back? how much time do they have before they return? minutes? hours? days? her attention is drawn away from considering the possibilities as galahad's grip on the man tightens. his body goes limp and with the slackening of muscles, her eyes widen. he's not dead right? no, wait, his chest is rising and falling with the rhythm of breathing. somehow, for some reason she doesn't quite understand, that fact brings some peace of mind to her.

the fridge shuts with a soft click before alexander is shifting back into her orbit. she turns as he approaches, as his hands search for her. she had told herself she'd stay strong during this whole thing but that look in his eyes has her crumbling into soft sobs and a mess of tears. his search is met with a soft thump as her body moves on its own accord, pressing close to his for warmth, comfort, affection. "it's okay," she chokes out. the smell still lingers in her nostrils and her hands tighten at the fabric of his shirt, head tucking into his chest without hesitation. raw emotion leaves her body trembling. it's a few moments of silence, of staying latched onto him, before she tries to compose herself enough to let go.

"i'm okay," she murmurs. her gaze drifts up from the floor to find his and there's a gentle tilt of her head, her voice soft and tentative when it escapes from her lips again. "are you alright?"

[attr="class","illieicon"]

[attr="class","illie b"]