He needed something now – minutes ago, hours ago – to staunch some of the bleeding. At this rate, it would take too much time to get back to the rental. Nanette wracked her memory of the rain-slick thoroughfares for a warehouse, an awning, or anything that could keep them from the rain. Nanette was scowling as they went. This was a mess, Priya was badly wounded, and the rain had gone from romantic to grim all in a single phone call.

“Here.”

Nanette had to double-back a few paces for this place. It was a condemned apartment by the looks of it. Some of the windows were shattered, and fewer were boarded up. There was graffiti on the walls and trash strewn in what might have been a nice lawn, once. Was it ideal? Not really. But it would give them cover, at least, and all Nanette had to do was make sure Priya didn’t collapse on a used needle.

The interior was a little better off. There wasn’t as much graffiti on the walls as she had expected. This must have been a lovely place once. Nanette could make out the shape of elegant sconces, and she was sure the creaky floors had once been polished to a high shine. Nanette squinted at a stained, ratty bench critically. No needles, at least; just stuffing falling out of the upholstery in matted tufts. And there was a dusty lantern beside the bench. She made sure Priya was settled before giving it a try – ah. Good. It was working for now. The light was bright and harsh, brighter still once she scrubbed away at the grime with her sleeve.

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, but not unkindly. “Can you show me your wounds?”

The first-aid kit was laid out for her to grab whatever tool she needed, and she had her phone propped up for extra light. Nanette’s expression was grim but determined as she eyed the blood staining Priya’s clothing. First came the stop-gap measures, and then she would need to get him dry. More medication, more bandages, more than what she could stuff into a travel kit. So many factors, so many questions.

But this was now. It was time to focus. Priya needed help, and Nanette would give it.

Priya Kosch

☉

When people saw her with her crisp button-up blouses and heels, they assumed (correctly) that she was a goodie-two shoes. Probably with a lot of money, too, and that was also very correct. But she was in her twenties, and her cousin and his friends would be remiss if she hadn’t gone out with them once she was old enough. So partying? Drinking? Dancing? Nanette enjoyed it, and she even sought it out independently. Even a mousy little thing without friends could find some camaraderie in a club. Drunk girls would always stop her to gush – even if it was just about her perfume (named Kirsch after the alcohol – a luscious and dark cherry perfume that was her favorite).

So once her duties in Lilycove were finished? She had the time, she had brought the appropriate clothing: it was time to head out.

The taste of the Brandy Alexander still lingered on her tongue. Nanette tugged the edge of her dress – a clinging, crimson number – down her thighs again. The music was sonorous, the bass running right through her and making her veins thrum. Good girls didn’t go to places like this. She could almost hear the strident disapproval, the memory of her parents colleagues ringing in her ears. Well, she was good, and she was here dancing at a dark club with sticky floors, so they could clutch their pearls somewhere else.

God, this club was even playing a remix from one of her favorite artists. From Kalos. Music truly did transcend borders.

Alors on danse! Alor on danse.

“Alors on chante!” Nanette laughed, and a few others around her echoed in (with varying degrees of sobriety).

She was dancing, and then she was stumbling. Someone was against her – whether falling or being pushed, it didn’t matter. There was certainly something off enough for Nanette to immediately be worried, hackles raised. And then she squinted, trying to adjust to the strobe lights –

“Oh! We were at that school before. In Mossdeep. Thaddeus, right? Are you alright?”

And while she lacked herculean strength, she could at least try and keep him on his feet with a little straining on her part.

@kane

☉

God, this poor woman looked exhausted. It did little – if anything – to detract from her beauty, but there were bags under her eyes that Nanette knew all too well. Still, it would have been rude to comment on it outright. Nanette’s smile in return was warm and gentle. She nodded once, turning to mount the stairs. Now she wasn’t a slacker by any means in terms of physical fitness, but stairs were the worst. Even her cousin’s self-proclaimed gym-rat friend, Milo, complained about stairs. At the summit of the stairs, Nanette felt her legs ache and her breathe come in heavier, more deliberate.

“I really can’t stand stairs,” Nanette muttered, hands braced on her hips. She glanced over her shoulder with a rueful smile. “Are you doing alright, miss?”

Once she had caught her breath, she pushed the door open. It creaked against her palm. There was a morose-looking ampharos curled up on its little bed. It raised its head when it realized it had two visitors, but not much else. Nanette’s brows furrowed in concern. The room seemed quaint enough, if not a little barren. The ampharos heaved a very long, sad sigh.

“Oh, darling,” Nanette’s voice had gone soft and low, soothing.

PENELOPE LIVY | MISSION

☉

“Yes, ma’am!”

Nanette gave a little salute before turning to Mila. She understood Mila’s excitement with the heat and the new scenery, but having a rapidash who had only ever done long rides across sloping terrain and dressage shows suddenly barrel up a mountain was asking for disaster. It was something they could pick up in time and with baby steps. Then she would crest the mountain with her steed as bold and confident as Miss Anderson.

“I know, I know. We can have a ride after this,” Nanette soothed. Mila’s snout pressed against her cheek and Nanette patted her side before pressing the button on her pokéball.

Once the ball was fastened back at her belt, Nanette turned to Elinor with a small smile. “Shall we?”

And then she was pressing on ahead. Most might expect people of her breeding to be inexperienced, prissy, and arrogant. Nanette knew her limits, and knew that she had much to learn. She wasn’t new to things like hikes, though, and she liked to think she was quite hale and hearty. Pebbles skid beneath her boots, clattering on the sloping ground. The parameters for today were to reach a certain height. Not quite the crest (she wasn’t a volcanologist, after all), but decently high that no common tourist would be up there. There was an altimeter in her pocket to keep tabs, and a myriad of other tools in her pack. Fortune favored the prepared.

“If you get hungry, please let me know. I have extra protein bars with me, and enough water for two,” Nanette said over her shoulder.

Blades of rough grass brushed her knees. Nanette had read about different biomes when she had decided on her ranger route. In mountainous terrain, fescue thrived. And in the mountains came hardier pokémon, too. She thought she saw some peeking through grass and overturned stones.

“If you don’t mind me asking…can I ask how you got started as a ranger, Miss Anderson?”

Elinor Anderson | mission

☉

Nanette was beginning to realize that Hoenn was ridiculously warm. She supposed a dormant volcano should have tipped her off, and if not that, then the desert. But it dawned on her again as she bounced on her rapidash’s back, quietly boiling underneath an unforgiving sun while Mila seemed thoroughly pleased. How can anyone live in this region? Nanette thought. But people did, and they thrived. Beyond volcanoes and outside the domain of deserts, Nanette rather liked Hoenn. She supposed the desert had its own beauty, too. The sand was golden underneath the sun, the sky impossibly blue and clear. She adjusted the brim of her cap, squinting into the distance.

It was meant to be a normal patrol – make sure nothing was cataclysmic in terms of danger, and to make sure any snake Pokémon were gently deterred from venturing into the city. Though, apparently, there were reports of some people skinning Pokémon for profit.

She could see the vague shape of snakes in the distance, their scales shimmering in the light. And while Nanette wasn’t an expert when it came to the more serpentine of Pokémon, they seemed to be on the smaller side, so she could only assume they were young.

A light press of her heel urged Mila forward at an easy trot. Nanette could at least ensure that the snakes were urged somewhere safe, and that no bird decided to come and pluck them from their home for a snack.

@vallen | mission

☉

Rustboro was a beautiful city. The weight of its history was carried by the stones that built its foundations. She had arrived three days earlier for a medical conference. Was it necessary for Nanette to have gone? No, not really. Was it a boon to her education? Very much so. Did she have more totes than she knew what to do with now after visiting booths? Also yes. All in all, it had been a wonderful experience. There was something almost Kalosian about the way the city looked with its bricks and thoroughfares. On the last night of the conference, there had been a rave of all things: Medics After Midnight. So today, Nanette was perfectly content to relax and listen to the distant boom of thunder and the patter of rain atop her rental.

It was straight out of a noir film or novel…at least visually. Because she was no grizzled detective. She was just a young ranger, and she was watching a romantic comedy film instead of the streets. There were no thoughts of dames or unsolved cases in her mind, only a vague idea of her own schedule and things she would need to take care of once she returned to Slateport.

There was a grand declaration of love playing just as her phone rang. Her tinny ringtone didn’t even finish its first cycle before she picked it up. It was Priya…which usually only meant one thing had happened. There was dread pooling in Nanette’s gut as she answered, heavy as a stone.

“Rustboro, 4th Ave, between Keen Eye Bar and the Lucky Gulpin…I went a little too deep.”

“I’ll be right there. Try and apply pressure to any bleeding in the meantime.”

She was already rising to her feet as she talked, and her words were coming in fast – firm and decisive. She dug through her suitcase for her first-aid kit, then for a pair of actual shoes (not her pretty summer sandals) but came up short. Fine. It was fine. She could take gutter water soaking her feet. Nanette threw on a hoodie over her pajamas – soft, fuzzy shorts, a truly massive t-shirt bearing the words LUIMIOSE UNIVERSITY – and darted out the door. Her sandals slapped against tile and then over laid stone once she was outside. The air smelled of rain, damp earth.

The hood pulled over her head did little to nothing. It was cotton, and it soaked through almost immediately. It was fine. It kept some of the rain from her eyes, at least. Nanette shielded her phone under the curl of her fingers. Priya’s location wasn’t too far. Ten minutes of walking…probably eight, maybe seven or even six if she ran.

So she ran.

The neon signs were bright, two letters flagging. The little gulpin on one sign flickered. When Nanette looked down, she could see deep red clouding the rain water before it was washed down the drain. There was another clap of thunder rumbling beyond the city.

“Priya!? What did you do this time?”

Nanette shoved her phone in her pocket as she rushed forward, leaning over him as if to try and shield him from the rain. It was bad, worse than she’d ever seen him.

“Can you sit up? Lean on me, and let’s get you out of this weather.”

Priya Kosch

☉

It was like staring into the sun. Annalise was effervescent and incandescent all at once. Nanette nearly jumped out of her skin when Annalise first approached. The lilt of her voice had been startling in the quiet of Route 120, but not unwelcome. Her voice was pretty. Nanette nodded, adjusting the brim of her cap. The area around Fortree was blessedly cooler than, say, Lavaridge. The air still smelled of rain, and Nanette didn’t feel as if she were boiling underneath her flak jacket.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Annalise. I hope I won’t drag us down.”

Etiquette lessons had been drilled into Nanette growing up, and they were showing now. The proper pitch, the practiced and polite smile. It seemed almost at ends with the ranger uniform, but she liked to think she could be formidable. She favored Annalise’s meowstic with a warm smile before reaching for her own belt. The pokéball was a familiar weight in her hand. A little flick and it was in the air – bursting open to reveal her gallade.

D'Artagan glanced from the oranguru to Nanette than back, looking incredulous and a little amused all at once. The oranguru thumped its chest with a massive hand and that was enough for d’Artagnan was refocus, his gaze intent.

annalise henderson | mission

☉

“Oh, are you sure?”

This was a man who clearly was at ease in front of the camera, if not for film. Marshall was easy to talk to, amiable and gregarious and very clearly good-looking. So it was a wonder as to why Mr. Leading Man was talking to her, let alone insisting they eat together and that he’d buy her coffee. It wasn’t a trap – this wasn’t high school – but Nanette was a tad confused. Did she look so pitiable that he felt the need to join her?

“Thank you, Marshall. You really don’t have to buy me coffee later, but I’m more than happy to have lunch with you.”

And if he insisted, Nanette would simply pay him back somehow. Rarely did she leave any gift-giving unreturned. He was very kind to even offer. Another glance told her that the break room was beginning to empty. People were funneling out with their hard-earned prizes (lunch) and scattering to their favored nooks and crannies.

“Shall we?” Nanette offered her arm with an amused smile – as if she were the gentleman and Marshall the lady she wanted to charm.

Marshall Slade | mission

☉

“I was in the drama club when I was younger, but you’re taking to this really well, Marshall,” Nanette said laughingly. “I’m glad my acting made it easier for you. It helps that you’re making a good impression and that you’re handsome.”

It was a very casual and calm admission. Men like Marshall did not take interest in mousy women like her, anyway. She was content in the silence that followed and making silly faces at the Pokémon in the tank. The catered food was here, so he would probably go ahead. Once everyone had gotten their fill, Nanette would see if there was anything left. If there wasn’t, that was fine. She could run and get a bag of chips from a vending machine. Everyone else ought to fill up; Nanette would be fine.

Only Marshall was hanging back. Nanette glanced at him curiously.

“Aren’t you going to eat with everyone else? If you haven’t eaten yet, you really should. The leading man needs to stay in tip-top shape.”

It was partly a jest, but, mostly, she was serious in her care and concern – however mild it was.

Marshall Slade | mission

☉

Third time was apparently the charm. When the director announced that this scene was finished and that they could take a break, Nanette heaved a sigh. It was definitely more intensive than when she had been flouncing about on her high school stage, but it wasn’t awful. This was just a direct-to-stream film, after all. The stylist adjusted her hair and some of her lip gloss before bounding off. Nanette rounded the corner of the fish tank, beaming.

“You’re doing great. How are you enjoying it so far?”

There was movement all around them – production assistants and their Pokémon, interns grabbing this and that, and other actors chattering away happily now that they had a moment of reprieve. This, at least, was familiar. All the kinetic energy and the liveliness. Nanette half-expected to see her old drama teacher burst through the door with their giant glasses and gauzy shawls.

The shellder was starting to doze off (tongue still out, of course). Nanette ran her fingers over ther smooth, cool glass and watched as a remoraid followed. Then her gaze fell on Marshall again, and she was smiling still.

“This is your first time acting, isn’t it? You’re doing amazing, really,” she said.

The scene had been virtually free of dialogue, but Marshall’s expressions had been fantastic. From his body language to the subtle tics of his face, he had done wonderfully. With such a good-looking counterpart, Nanette had found it almost too easy to fall into the character’s girlish interest. (She would definitely be marathoning a good chunk of her romantic films when she got home. Her gallade would roll his eyes, but he always sat through them with her.)

Marshall Slade | mission

☉

“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Nanette’s said, her expression earnest. “You can call me Nettie, if you’d like. Otherwise, Nanette is fine.”

Were they really the same age? Miss Anderson was so collected and at ease. In a word? She was cool. Whereas Nanette felt the exact obvious in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Maybe it was something gained with experience. Nanette swallowed minutely. Even thinking of the word “cool” was agonizing. But she would make for a poor ranger if she couldn’t adjust to the heat. And she didn’t want to give others a reason to write her off as a spoiled rich girl who couldn’t handle sweat.

“There wasn’t any place like this in Kalos, so I’m excited to start today’s expedition. Was there anything else you’d want us to cover while we’re here, ma’am?”

Climbing would be a welcome change, at least. Maybe the sights and sounds of Mt. Chimney would be enough to distract her from just how warm it was underneath the flak jacket.

Elinor Anderson | mission

☉

Nanette laughed outright at that.

“I’m sure you’re the raddest,” she agreed.

It was a good thing they were in such an open space. The smell of tobacco wouldn’t carry too far. And while she couldn’t fathom ever smoking herself, there was something oddly comforting about the smell of cigarettes. Dyeda Yuriy had smoked quite a bit himself, and he had still been a hale and hearty man until his last few months – still formidable enough to strike some fear into the hearts of lesser delinquents with nothing but a disapproving gaze. If he hadn’t been smoking cigarettes, he had rolled his own cigars.

Nostalgic or not, it probably wasn’t ideal to smoke in front of children. She didn’t want the homeroom teacher to round on Thaddeus (though the teacher looked as threatening as cotton candy).

“I’m glad. I was nervous that they wouldn’t like me,” Nanette admitted, smiling ruefully. “Here – may I take that? I’ll buy you a new pack later. I don’t want anyone scolding you for smoking on school property.”

Nanette held her hand out, waiting for the cigarette to be passed to her fingers so she could quash the ember herself. Her cousin smoked frequently, too, and she would just snatch them from his mouth when she had a mind to. That was Antoni, though, and she didn’t think Thaddeus would take to that as kindly.

A breeze lifted at her hair. This was…nice. It had gone much better than she had thought.

And then there were a gaggle of children bounding over. Tugging at her skirt impatiently and crowding around Thaddeus.

“Come play with us!”

“I think you’re forgetting a word.”

“Please!”

“Good. Will you be joining us? We’re playing…what are we playing?” Nanette turned towards the apparent leader with a warm smile.

“Hide-and-seek.”

“Hide-and-seek,” said Nanette, nodding seriously. "I think they really want you to play with them, Thaddeus."

@kane | mission

☉

Here was another thing about Nanette. Not quite a secret, but nothing she shouted from rooftops, either.

She was a romantic. As foolish as they came, who loved reading declarations of fictional love, cinematic kisses in the rain, poetry – and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

So playing a role of a young woman utterly entranced by a handsome stranger? It was almost too easy, and it hit a little too close to home. The scene was unfolding – the singer crooning into the microphone, the bright light of the fish tanks, and the extras milling about in fanciful costumes. Nanette knew her role – a young woman, sheltered but vivacious with a taste for adventure – and knew what she had to do. The screenplay was simple enough. Star-crossed lovers would lock eyes through the tank, and that would be the catalyst for a delightfully sweet adventure with a lot of humor and plenty of costume changes (which was the way the flighty director had pitched the film to her at the coffee shop).

Remoraid and luvdisc swam lazily through the tank. A shellder blinked at her slowly then stuck its tongue out by way of greeting. Nanette stooped to gaze back, laughing a little.

Then came The Moment (marked in the script with bolded letters and aggressive highlighting). A peek through coral, their eyes meeting.

A tall, strong man with fiery red hair and fiery eyes? It was too easy to act like a besotted schoolgirl. Nanette averted her gaze as if shy and flustered. The armor looked good on Marshall, the music was beautiful, and that over-excited little theater kid deep in her heart was rearing its head again. Her smile was going from shy to effusive, no holds barred. It was a child’s sort of love – that sort of boundless, fearless love. Something like wildfire.

And – god – Nanette remembered those kinds of crushes all too well. She had a lot of experience to draw from.

Marshall Slade | mission

☉