”howdy!”

he turned to one of the smugglers, then, to echo the question. ”where are the bears, larry?”

”oh, they’re here, roach.”

”that don’t help me none.”

with an annoyed sigh, he called back to zev, ”somewhere between here and there!”

roach threw a tranquilizer gun into the passenger seat of a beat up-sedan. its headlights blinked on, likely blinding on zev’s end of the long tunnel. the engine sputtered, growled to life, and he was on his way.

the light would be enough to silhouette the shape the of an ursaluna, out of range between them, near the center of the tunnel. upon a closer look, it would seem busy with something, crouched over and unbothered by the spotlight.

meanwhile, several hisuian pokemon were trapped in the sticky web, while the zoroark might use the distraction to slip out of sight.

Zev Harcourt

☉

goddamn amateurs. he’d known well enough it’d only been a matter of time before hoenn’s pokéball-happy goof troupe would come and tarnish apogee’s record. these young grunts didn’t know how to do business. they had no finesse, no keen eye, no wise intuition when it came to deals like these.

though annoyed, the look on roach’s face was almost jaded, unsurprised. with too many cooks in the kitchen, he was used to things going wrong these days. at the underboss’s question, he shrugged.

”ah, my guess is this is probably gonna be a shit show any way it goes down. you do whatever you think is appropriate, how ‘bout that?”

he went to sip his whiskey again, but stopped to add, ”try not to break anything, though. this place is expensive.” and with all the product he was losing, things were looking kind of tight.

just then, a there was the all-too-predictable bang, and the sound of glass shattering. the rocket at the table screamed, shoulder bleeding while a bottle on the table had broken. it was followed by other screams, and the scrambling of bodies towards suddenly congested exits.

Cillian Quinn

☉

no idea

as zev took the other end, roach pulled up outside of ritual, shut off the loud engine of his pickup and made his way down the long, convoluted tunnel that led to the underground routes.

a little further into the tunnel where zev had entered, it might be clear enough how this had happened. there was a large hole in the wall—dug out by someone or something. perhaps it was still in the tunnel, or maybe it had explored and then left.

either way, it meant whoever had been supposed to be patrolling had skipped their duty, and roach would most certainly blame it on rocket negligence.

coming zev’s way were an array of rare escapees, all distortion variants, and many of them shiny. the eyes of a zoroark flashed as it attempted to creep past, its hiding place suddenly lit up by a strong flashlight from far ahead. it spotlighted zev’s position.

”who’s that?” roach called down the tunnnel.

hopefully, it was zev, and hopefully, he’d be grabbing some of what was trying to make it past him.

Zev Harcourt
mission: country bear jamboree

☉

he was finishing a deal when his phone rang. his face fell a little, because the number only meant one thing: something had gone wrong with his big operation for the evening.

excusing himself, he left to take the call.

”you shittin’ me?”

apparently, several ursaring had wandered into the tunnels underneath ritual, wreaking havoc. a truck full of expensive pokémon had already been turned over, freeing several that had already been spoken for.

when the call ended, roach shook his head. returned to shake hands, and wrap up early. on his way out of an expensive hotel suite, he was muttering to himself, ”they like caves. goddamnit…”

stepping into his truck, he headed for ritual, and the smuggling route beneath it; but not before texting Zev Harcourt —someone he’d come to rely on more and more as of late.

u close? got bears in the tunnel

Zev Harcourt
mission: country bear jamboree

☉

the mask caught his eye. there he was. gavin merlino, not too long after he’d been alerted.

”well, mr. merlino, if my sources are correct, your guy there just realized he sold a whole truckload of galarian slowbro for that big box of crisp play money sittin’ on the table.”

which did plenty to irk roach too, being that he’d done his own part in the deal. these were bad clients. but he was playing it casual, because despite the battlefield erected around him, his business was not the place to settle this dispute.

back turned, with his whiskey practically on his lips again, he placed a bet.

”one of those two ain’t makin’ it outta here alive.”

Cillian Quinn
mission: currency cozenage

☉

with two taken care of—if only temporarily for their getaway—it was on to the next. inside the truck, another pokéball released a cubone into the passenger seat.

”okay, boom boom. target practice.”

cubone’s bone was wielded, and then thrown at the ranger’s head, smacking and bouncing off his skull, back into the pokemon’s hand. it was enough to slow and disorient, at least. the truck also slowed a short distance away at the sound of toni nearby.

”yes’m.”

he looked down at the cubone. ”you might hafta scooch over boomer.” unless toni was hopping into the back, of course.

Antoinette Spina

☉

night at club apogee. bustling. bright in the dark. loud and sweaty.

it was later in the evening. bottles in melted ice baths were reaching their bottoms, and last call was right around the corner. it had been as close to closing as he could manage.

he made his way through the bodies, wider pathways opening up as revelers had begun to clear out. it was how he was able to spot what was going on at one of the VIP booths.

a bouncer explained some of the situation. on one side of the table sat familiar company, and on the other, one who belonged to an unfriendly rival entity. between them was a briefcase, and some very bad energy.

lingering near the bar, roach kept a casual eye peeled, slowly noting obscure vantage points around the room at which they had all posted themselves. hawklike stares of both affiliations were all too obvious as they carved lines towards the same spot across the dancefloor. noticing it was like feeling the static before an explosion.

there were pokeballs, guns, hidden, flashed for the briefest moments before falling under shadow and clothing again.

he got his phone back out, texting none other than an underboss he had come to know over occasional nights of poker.

there's a standoff at the club. bunch of ur guys involved fyi. reinforcements appreciated

Cillian Quinn
mission: currency cozenage

☉

”no problem.”

the engine started, and it was barely faster than a crawl past the trees as he scoped out the situation. when he spotted them, he lamented over comms, ”aw sheit. it’s the law.” anything else would’ve been better, in his opinion.

he had a special hat for moments like these. it was black felt, and perhaps with his mask, he did not look entirely unlike zorro with a beard. grabbing it out of the seat, he replaced the one already on his head, and pulled up the dark fabric looped around his neck.

”i'm on my way.”

a beater of a pickup truck dove through the ditch and off the road, speeding through woodland and past blotches of gold uniform. on his way past the closest one, a pokéball was dropped out of the stuck window. 

the malamar that burst from it writhed, ready, and unconcerned that it had been left behind. infinite patterns that swirled in its gaze were hypnotizing, poised on ranger number one.

Antoinette Spina

☉

he watched the flash-drive disappear from in front of him, unflinching. if it was supposed to look like gold, water-type matias hadn’t sold it well enough. despite the apparent lack of business, ritual’s owner possessed a prosperity that had come only by passing on the wrong deals.

as matias announced his leave, he nodded a casual parting, ”have a good’n.”

no way in hell he was lugging his dusty-ass 1994 computer tower to the bar, on any day. perhaps matias would find out tomorrow that he didn’t take orders, unless they were for drinks.

MATIAS SILPH

☉

his hand came up briefly, finger running through his mustache as his brows knitted skeptically.

”well, ain’t that convenient. you always carry around incriminatin’ evidence, just in case?”

regardless, he swiped the flash drive, setting it beside him before picking up the cigar again.

”you certainly have my curiosity, i’ll give ya that. i ain’t got a computer here, though, so you’re gon’ have to wait. gotta shut down this bar tonight cause i can’t find any gotdang reliable help around here.”

a flame danced from a small torch, lighting up the texture of his face as he toasted edges of peppery tobacco.

”but if ye want, you can leave yer number, ‘n i’ll get back to ya tomorrow, er the next day…”

MATIAS SILPH

☉

”well, damn. least it ain’t dead, i guess.”

if it had to be boring and slow, at least it was resilient, because he wasn’t willing to sit there and baby it all day. he was businessman, after all.

”huh. i don’t know jack about no bonsais er preenin’ leaves, but i know i sure as hell ain’t patient enough fer this shit. s’like watchin’ paint dry.”

his hands went up to settle on his hips, eyes returning to his blossomless plant again.

paxton concordas

☉