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It’s not until later, once the adrenaline has subsided that she’ll feel the uneasy twist in her stomach over the whole ordeal.[break][break]

Right then, though, she feels sharply alive with the thrill from the hunt. It’s primal and ugly, but she is primal and ugly. All rotten through to the very center of her soul.[break][break]

“Is that your goal, sir? Only to profit?” It’s no more than a curiosity.[break][break]

She scrounges up a pokeball from her pockets and snares the incapacitated pokemon. Then stares down at the ball in her hand before pocketing it again. She’ll figure out what to do with the pinsir later.[break][break]

“Should I give my official notice to the precinct, then?” One by one, she returns her pokemon– save for the lucario, who drifts back to her side. A midnight blue shadow. She’ll have to find something to do when she’s not doing whatever…this entails. But she’ll survive. She’s always survived.

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There’s a feral, red-tinged part of her that doesn’t want to let up. Doesn’t want to ease off the pressure her foot has on their throat as their hands claw uselessly against the tough material of her boot.[break][break]

In fact, it only makes her wish to grind her heel down harder.[break][break]

Apply pressure until it stops. Revel in it outside of the confines of the fighting ring. Push the boundary for once in her life just to see what it tastes like on her tongue.[break][break]

Her stare is fixed on the beneath her, but violent, burning red snaps back to her superior. Prisoner. “Yes, sir.”[break][break]

There might be a flicker of resentment that ghosts through her expression, but she snaps a finger and one of her poochyena slinks to her side again, tail down and head low.[break][break]

Another YAWN has their consciousness fading.[break][break]

“Thank you, sir.” Will she be suitable enough for whatever he has in mind, then? The praise is eagerly received though she doesn’t outwardly show it. “They do not deserve the Pokémon they would so readily abandon.”[break][break]

No more than a murmur as she looks back at the subdued pinsir.

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One of the pair manages to avoid the attack, but the second is tossed back by the frantic STORM THROW that the pinsir uses. He yelps as he hits the ground, and Blue whistles to call them both off. Both retreat– cowering. Instead, a third pokeball rolls into her hand from where she’d stowed it in her pocket.[break][break]

Her ace bursts from the ball, the lucario wasting no time in springing to action. CLOSE COMBAT brings him into close range with the pinsir, paws battering at it before pulling at the pincers at the top of its head.[break][break]

Blue pays their combat little mind, though. As soon as the lucario is released, her attention shifts back to the athlete. She and Fang have worked in tandem long enough to rely on one another’s capabilities. The brawler snags the would-be escapee by their arm and yanks them back.[break][break]

Twisting their arm, she makes quick work of flipping them so that they land on the ground. Quickly held in place by her boot finding the vulnerability of their neck.[break][break]

It’s only then that she looks up at Theo again. “They’re not very fast.” Simple observation. Kind of sad, for a renowned athlete. “Are they needed for something specific?”

“This specific one?” Her head tilts back and she stares up at the sky. It’s difficult to see the stars, even on the outskirts of the city. “I don’t mind it. You could call it familiar.” For a long time the circuit she was a staple name within was like a secondary home, whether she had wanted it to be or not.[break][break]

Now it’s all secondhand familiar. Like the back of her hand.[break][break]

“Are you looking to revise things?”[break][break]

Blue is temporarily distracted by the nuzleaf that looks to draw the attention of her houndour. The canine is having none of it, however. Cloaked in fire, she makes quick work of singeing the creature with a collision of FLAME CHARGE.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"] Martín del Mar   | catching nuzleaf! [break]


[attr="class","pkspr pkmn-houndour"] [attr="class","pkspr pkmn-poochyena"]

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“Got it.” When they finally find their mark, she expects more marching orders. But that is not what she receives.[break][break]

Her head tilts curiously at the underboss, though her expression doesn’t falter in its removed neutrality. Then Blue’s glance moved back to the panicked athlete. With a few sharp whistles, her poochyena are on the pinsir, (maybe) unfairly tag teaming it.[break][break]

One BITES at its feet in an attempt to bring it down. The other charges it, slamming into its middle in a furthered TAKE DOWN.[break][break]

She doesn’t immediately move—interested to see what they do. If they will stay, or abandon their Pokémon in the effort to get away. It’s an important evaluation in her mind on how to proceed. She’s violent and she revels in the fight, but this isn’t a fight.[break][break]

It’s a test. More for her than the athlete she’s eyeing. Without the final command, will she be rudderless and revel in excess force? Or will she be self-sufficient and practiced enough to only do as the job demands?

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Much like a well trained dog, Blue turns in response to the whistle. Halts in place, even, waiting for a redirection in her course. If she weren’t in a zone of fixated concentration, or if she was with someone else, she might’ve been offended by the signal.[break][break]

But years of experience in the kickback of failure to comply with command have worn Blue down into a creature who bends under a superior hand.[break][break]

Theo is her underboss. She does not desire reprimand. It’s as simple as that.[break][break]

Ruby eyes follow his indication, and she doesn’t tarry. The rocks and tangles don’t daunt her, and she approaches the loose gravel before skidding down to the lower, more strenuous path.[break][break]

A whistle (from her this time) draws both poochyena to her heels. One lets out a low bay— a sign that the hunt draws to a potential closing point.

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“Got it.” She doesn’t have any rope of her own, so she rummages in one of their survival packs until she finds some nylon rope— probably used for scaling rock faces if needed. That’ll work, right?[break][break]

With awkward help from the poochyena, she pulls them together and loops the rope around them. She’s not exactly the best at knots, but if she does so enough times, it’ll provide a suitable enough interference.[break][break]

At the last moment, she kicks their bags of supplies (and probably pokeballs) off the nearest cliff edge and then clicks her tongue to pull Clyde back into the upward run.[break][break]

That time without so much as a cursory glance back at Theo.