someone who wants to be caught.

Caught? They’d have to kill her before she went back to jail again.

She reaches for the microwave and . . . is denied. For a moment, she freezes, stunned at this woman’s audacity. Denying her her breakfast in her own home? She’s either very brave, or very stupid. People like that are likely both.

A hot, amber gaze snaps to Sylvie, unamused, and far past the limits of her patience, “Do you do this often?” she asks with malice, a hiss between clenched teeth, “Care or whatever this is?”

Her hand vaguely waves at the woman in front of her, “You’re wasting your time. And mine.”

She takes a step closer, a slow movement of her hand up to Sylvie’s. Her fingers gently dance across her wrist until they curl tightly around it, “Everyone’s demons demand different sacrifices,” a harsh yank, an attempt to open the microwave she so desperately clings to.

---

sylvie faust

In truth, Lex really hadn’t thought much about what happens after she’s done with a job. Now, she’s confronted with it, face to face, centimeters apart, and she was back to wishing she didn’t know. If Lex had a shred of empathy, she may understand where Sylvie’s frustrations blossomed from, but that didn’t concern herself with such trivial emotions. Not anymore. Caring about someone other than yourself doesn’t get you anywhere, it only holds you back.

Another pleasant smile appears at the mention of Muaville. The longer it took Sylvie to do her job, the better work Lex did. At least, that’s how she would think about it now. In what ways could she make Sylvie’s life harder? Others would suffer more, simply out of spite for this intrusion.

The smile fades back into a scowl, “Tch,” she got that from THEO BECKETT, “Your workload is not my problem. If you want a break learn to delegate,” and with that she pushes off the wall, letting fresh air rush through the space between them. The mention of her burrito ushers her back to the microwave, “Sounds like you don’t appreciate my work,” she uses a finger to poke at the tightly wound tortilla. Deciding it's not ready yet, she pushes it back into the microwave for another 30 seconds.

“Also, not my problem.”

She half turns to regard Sylvie still standing in her doorway, a new crease in her brow, “In fact, none of this is my problem and my job isn’t to hear you bitch and moan about it so if that’s all you’re gonna do then kindly fuck off.”

---

sylvie faust

Slowly, her fingers uncurl into an open palm, but the pressure on Sylvie’s chest remains - she wouldn’t move an inch until Lex is certain she doesn’t need to knock her out off the bat. The explanation comes with . . . amusement?

As she does with everyone she meets, Lex immediately sizes her up. The amber gaze falls down to her boots, up her slender legs, over the black polished fingers and finally back up to carmine eyes and teal hair. She looks tired, but not enough to dull her sense of humor.

Hmph. Lex’s scowl deepens, perhaps in frustration. Sylvie’s clear lack of fear or worry seems . . . disrespectful. Lex can’t quite place it. She’s not used to this sort of reaction to this degree of intimidation which is clearly intentional. Her mild surprise shows in the subtle softness that smooths over her still knit brows. The toothy scowl turns up into a grin and her hand leaves Sylvie’s chest. It moves up to rest beside the stranger’s head on the door as she takes a step to close the gap between them, hovering close enough she can smell the subtle hint of bleach probably caught in her hair or stained to her skin from scrubbing away Lex's handy work.

“Sounds like you’re here to thank me then,” Lex suggests, offering an alternative route for the conversation to take. She could be reasonable sometimes. She hasn’t forgotten the anger in Sylvie’s bangs on the door or her colorful use of ‘asshole’, “I probably keep you pretty busy,” the grin spreads into a toothy smile, “Busy enough to keep you fully employed,” if read between the lines it sounds like a threat. Everyone is replaceable.

---

sylvie faust

The hum of the microwave stops with the shrill beep. That’s what makes her stand, as the silence of Sylvie’s contemplation leads Lex to believe she turned her ass around to the door directly across the hall. However, the moment of reprieve is muted when the banging only intensifies and the words grow sharper.

She punches the button to open the microwave and steam rolls out from the small compartment. Subconsciously. Sylvie’s reminder draws the memories of last night back to the forefront of her mind. It was messy, as usual. He didn’t want to talk. Mutilation seemed to loosen his lips. And of all things, Lex smiles.

Until it all clicks.

Who the fuck is banging on her door and how did they know about that?

Her footsteps are muffled by years of careful practice and the knowledge of where exactly the creaking boards lie in her floor. She’s fast, striking like an Arbok when she opens the door, reaching out to try and nab Sylive by the collar and yank her inside with one swift motion.

She’s not gentle, little she ever does is. Lex is particularly not gentle when she pushes forward again, a motion that would slam Sylvie’s back to the door itself once it slammed shut.

The dull lighting of the apartment softens its roughness, but that same light sharpens the shadows across the enforcer’s face and accentuates the ever-present fury behind her amber eyes. She’s clearly not expecting company. Her red hair falls freely, messy with bed head, and she dons a braless tank top with shorts - likely her pajamas. Or perhaps she just doesn’t care which would be very on brand for her.

“Who the fuck are you and how do you know about that?”

---

sylvie faust

Dead, shriveled leaves crunched under the heavy fall of her boots. Lex didn’t try to hide her presence here tonight. She was on the hunt for ghosts, and they typically came to you with malicious intent. The louder you are, the better.

Her amber eyes scanned the jagged tombstones, carefully assessing the shadows cast beneath the half moon. Many seemed to move of their own accord, restless in the darkness. They too hunted, but would find no easy target in the former Rocket Beast.

---

Ghost/Psychic Solo Wild
First spawn please <3

There aren’t many things Lex finds joy in anymore, even fewer things she considers essential to her daily routine. Whiskey in her morning coffee, a frozen breakfast burrito, and the few minutes it took to drink that coffee and eat that burrito are three things she does. There’s a pleasant quietness this morning - whatever time it is - that seems more peaceful than usual. It sounds like her downstairs neighbors finally stopped fighting and whoever was to the left of her finally got their kid to sleep. Or they were just out, it probably wasn’t even the morning. Regardless, it’s pleasant.

Until her door shakes with rather angry knocking. It doesn’t seem to phase her, this shit happened all the time. Still, her jaw clenches and she scowls at the barrier. She doesn’t bother getting up, but she does set the coffee mug down on the kitchen counter.

“Milt’s place is across the hall,” she shouts back. It wouldn’t be the first time an angry client came looking for Milton. The lazy piece of shit did everything half ass and he probably sold some low quality shit for a high quality price.

---

sylvie faust

Whether she remains still as a statue due to skill or fear in the face of the former admin is her secret and hers alone. There’s a moment where she thinks the royal may be immune to the terrain and her mind is forced to quickly assess the situation and come up with some alternative plans to salvage what she could out of this.

Fortunately, he succumbs, knocking into the table on the way down. It’s only then that she moves, smiling as she stands to peer over the railing, “No, there’s just nothing better to do,” that’s the answer to his question. One he won’t hear unless it manifests in his dreams. It’s partially true, she doesn’t have anything better to do. There’s not a lot of places in this world that would accept someone like her. Circumstances and time have darkened her heart to the point of no redemption. The only thing to live for is the hope of revenge and the promise that she could possibly make someone suffer more than she does. That makes her life seem a little less awful. She fights purely out of selfishness, no loyalty. The only one she was loyal too is long dead, but not forgotten.

“I know you’re hungry, go on,” she gives the Gengar permission to feast. He’s ravenous. His wide smile sharpens and fangs bare as he lunges at Marley’s fallen body. The Gengar sinks its ghastly fangs into the innkeeper as it siphons his life force through his dreams. He grows more and more pale by the second as the ghost gorges itself.

Meanwhile, Lex debates finishing off Remial. She stands there for a moment, staring at his vulnerable body. Ultimately, she decides she’s wasting precious time, “They’ll have to pay me more for that,” she mumbles out loud before turning her attention back to the young woman.

“Sorry, babe. Your white prince isn’t coming to rescue you,” the reality of the pun makes her dark smile grow before she lunges forward. A large hand wraps tightly around the woman’s neck, “Unfortunately for you he just used up all my patience,” her fingers squeeze, tightening enough to make her face turn red, “So talk, or I’ll let them drown you in a WHIRLPOOL,” a much slower way to die.

---

Remiel Calcifet

SPOILER: Click to show

+10MP per post (x3)
+150MP for having Rocket and League characters and faction-based conflict in the thread (no NPCs)
+50MP showcase your own character's strength(s) meaningfully
+10MP have your own pokemon use a z-move in your thread
+10MP have your pokemon set weather, terrain, or a magic, trick, or wonder room in your thread
+50MP have your character directly or indirectly spotlight another writer's character's strengths
+50MP have an antagonistic exchange of dialogue between your character and another writer's character or NPC
+50MP have your character reflect on why they're fighting/reflect on their loyalties

Total: 400MP

Lex frowns, shaking her head subtly in comfort of the shadows. The keeper gave it his best, he really did. Lex would at least acknowledge that when dealing with him later . . . though it would likely make no difference. She’s been punished for the flaws of others so why should she spare him? It’s not her fault the Prince is painfully perceptive leading to well founded suspicion. Any other League idiot in here and they would probably be gone by now.

Electricity flashes from the exacting, and the silhouette careens up towards the balcony, slamming into the wooden paneling of the wall. Lex nearly leaps out of her skin but its either a complete lack of reverence for her own life or years of practice that keep her perfectly still. Regardless, the light sparking off the wall illuminates the shadows, and her with it.

Remiel will see a hardened amber gaze staring back at him, sharp shadows giving a more sinister appearance than intended. Her jaw tightens, a scowl spreading across her face. While she holds his gaze the shadow so the innkeeper peels away.

The malicious Gengar laughs manically before slamming a fist into the ground. The wooden floorboards shift and warp and seem to melt away. A sinister aura reaches up to leech into whatever living beings that happen to be within its grasp.

HYPNOTIC TERRAIN: summons a hypnotic terrain that put those affected to SLEEP. this amplifies the area of effect for the user's DREAM EATER attack. this terrain can only be dispelled by other terrain based z-moves. it lasts three turns.

Marley is the first to fall, swaying slightly before crashing to the ground with a heavy THUD. Luckily, or unluckily for Lex, the knife fell first which kept him safe from impaling himself. That meant she’d still have to take care of him later . . . if there is a later.

---

Remiel Calcifet

SPOILER: Click to show

+10MP per post (x2)
+150MP for having Rocket and League characters and faction-based conflict in the thread (no NPCs)
+50MP showcase your own character's strength(s) meaningfully
+10MP have your own pokemon use a z-move in your thread
+10MP have your pokemon set weather, terrain, or a magic, trick, or wonder room in your thread
+50MP have your character directly or indirectly spotlight another writer's character's strengths

Total: 290MP

The old beast’s hand curls into the fabric at the back of the woman’s cotton shirt. It tightens around her neck and squeezes a little squeak out of the young woman, “I said, just keep chopping. Don’t try anything funny. I’ll be back for you next,” she points a gloved finger at the older barkeep that clutches the knife with white knuckles, “And don’t try anything funny,” she smiles, “They’re always watching,” there’s an ominous tone to her sing-song voice. With a hard shove, she forces the woman up the stairs to the second level where they can talk in private. She would tell her where the damned League’s supplies are hidden in no time.

Unfortunately, Lex isn’t given much time at all. The whisper of a cold breeze from the phantom plane tickles her neck, a soft warning that someone is coming. The massive Dhelmise tightens it’s ANCHOR SHOT around the poor girl. Rusted steel chains creep up and over her mouth, “Shhhhh, we don’t want any trouble now, do we?” she pats the girl’s cheek roughly before quietly dipping over to the small window to peer outside.

Fucking Remiel Calcifet. Of course it is.

From the sound of the conversation, she still has the element of surprise. She crouches low, stepping quietly over the wooden floor boards to peek over the railing as Remiel approaches Marley. The barkeep’s shadow flickers with the anticipation of an Arbok ready to strike.

---

Remiel Calcifet

White smoke wisps from the burning cigarette between her fingers. It carries on the breeze to join the dull haze that settled over the town in the aftermath of the war. Her hardened amber eyes cut from one crumpled building to another then to the mountainous gashes left in the earth by the Regirock.

“I can’t believe they chose this shithole to occupy,” her dark red lips pull into sneer, baring her teeth in disdain. It’s hot, humid, and pretty much just a pile of garbage at this point. Would have been a lot easier if they didn’t blow the place to bits in the process of ‘acquiring’ it. But she didn’t make the decisions - that was far above her pay grade. No, she simply just wants to make the money. Survive. Because what else is there to do in this rotten life?

Lex raises the cigarette to lips, but doesn’t inhale through her mouth. She simply basks in the sharp scent of the tobacco before extinguishing it to get back to work.

Two GOLURK lumber ahead of her towards the crumpled Pokecenter. There were bound to be useful things left in the rubble and perhaps a few things she could take for herself that wouldn’t be missed. The promise of a little extra under-the-table cash made the physically demanding job a little more bearable.

---

@open
MISSION

The pair shifts course, trotting down stairs and deep into the warehouse’s bowels. They reek of Rattata waste and the rotting corpses from the predators that prey on them. The thought of the little mouse brings a distant memory to mind, the ghost of a man. His shadow materializes, crimson eyes sparkling in the shadows.

But it’s not a man, just a beast. Finally, a predator worth their time. A DAZZLING GLEAM lights up the room, and blasts the Mightyena back. It charges, fangs bared and a guttural snarl rips through its throat. Thes curry of small paws, no doubt its pups, hurry off into the distance.

“Don’t mess around for too long,” she warns the shadow pokemon now locked into the canine’s BITE. Viscous ectoplasm drips from the wound as she raises her hand to finish off the Mightyena with a point blank DAZZLING GLEAM.

Lex’s pokeball swiftly enters the fray, swallowing the creature whole.

---

Catching!
-1 pokeball