[attr="class","nikita"]The detective nodded, his shoulders lifting toward his chin with a shrug. “I mean no offense.” There was no reason an adolescent should find that insulting. Or, at least, not in a world of logical actors. But, in his decades on this earth, he now knew humanity to be anything but. “It is simply biology, I am afraid.” If his hypothesis was correct, the ‘child’ made no move to correct him. It seemed this paradox would not be so simply unraveled.

“I am not certain what you are referring to.” He did not care. There was no point in lingering on the lost. These things he told himself as his stone heart bled. As quickly as the gap in his armor appeared, it vanished beneath a faux indifference. “But I believe this is where I should tell you to open your heart.” Judging by the disbelieving laugh that followed, he did not share the view of most. That or the idea of caring about himself struck him as humorous.

As the young woman explained, Nikita listened. His general air was somewhere between exasperation and constipation. “People are notoriously unreliable.” He was known for his clarity of thought. A detective who understood emotions but rarely fell victim to them.

Which is why his acquiescence surprised him. “Just stay out of firing range.” He steps to the side, granting the woman a runway.
Regardless of which way she flew, she would end up in a militarized zone.

At least, that's he would tell himself.

It is with some surprise that he sees her reverse course toward the mainland.
50 - Participation
100 - Sea
300 - Loss
80 - Posts
------------
530 MP

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Lasciel Elis

[attr="class","nikita"]The Houndstone’s maw had made short work of a few ankles. The heavy bone crushing tendon and sinew with an audible crunch. With surprising deftness, the ghost dodges around his bloodthirsty companions. Shots ring out as the remaining grunts try to get a bead on the wily dog. But, by the time they fire, he’s already vanished into the stone walls.

Finding the space far too crowded for his liking, Nikita waits just outside. One of the fleeing Rockets rushes toward him with a gun raised. There’s a flash of his old mentality. A few disarmament plans are laid out in the blink of an eye. These are discarded however for a simple press of his own trigger. “Hm.” Blood sprays from the terrified young man as he falls back. Unseeing. Unfeeling. Gone.

Turning toward Thomas, the detective frowns. The man reminds him of a cat toying with its food. A practice the HBIC agent had always found abhorrent. Sobbing with fear, the Rocket collapses against the now-red tree. With a sharp shake of his head, he grabs for the other man’s shirt sleeve. Whipcord muscles bulge in his arms.

For a moment, he debates on disarming him entirely, but he settles for a simple conversation. “Come now, monsieur Benoit.” He scolds with his typical wan tones. “We cannot interrogate a corpse.”

Participation - 50 MP
Pokemon Death - 200 MP
Secret - 100 MP
Win - 200 MP
---------------------
550

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Thomas Benoit

[attr="class","nikita"]Up until this point, Nikita had been somewhat impressed by this island’s inhabitants. Their language seemed enhanced, and their understanding of engineering was stunning. The trap mechanism above, for instance, was an interesting thing. It could decipher the type of energy thrown at it—if the riddle is to be believed. “It seems enlightenment only reached so far.”


By the time Dwayne turns to leave, the detective is wholly intent on the room before him. “It appears so.” Nikita answers simply. He does not indulge in well wishes. Such things are often just wastes of breath. Especially in an open war zone. As the sounds of Dwayne fades, Nikita approaches the locked door before him. A smile appears as he turns behind him and sees it.


The glimmer of a tarnished key on the Pokemon’s collar.





50 - Participation

60 - Posts

100 - Survey

200 - Win

—---------------------

410 MP

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Dwayne Parker

[attr="class","nikita"]While not catty by any means, Nikita could not resist the occasional verbal spar. Especially when his arm hurt and his ribs felt like he had danced with an industrial fan. “Some things only improve with age, you’ll find.”

Though he excluded outward calm, the detective knew he was in danger. Without both arms, it would be difficult to catch himself if he fell. So, rules of combat be damned. “I believe there’s a saying about that.” Any further quips end as Tapu Koko appears above them. A frown presses Nikita’s lips together. “Tch.” He slips his hands away from his belt, worried about conductivity. It seems it’s our lucky day, Winters. Judging by the hound’s posture, he does not enjoy this revelation—and what it indicates—as much as his trainer.

As it does not attack, Nikita shoves thoughts of Tapu Koko aside in favor of more immediate concerns. His Intelleon is currently strung out to dry—a thorny vine still wrapped around an ankle. The apple bounces off of its head in an almost comical fashion. Its left eye is forced shut. “Anne. Calm yourself.” Her trainer’s droll voice tells of scolding. “Liquidation.” The lizard grabs the vine around it before shifting into something more fluid. The restraint passes through the restraints as it shifts its target to the Typhlosion.

The Houndstone, meanwhile, vanishes just as the Rollout would land. A swirling black void indicates where it once stood. But the rocking earth sends Nikita stumbling backward. For a heart-pounding moment, his loafer hangs out into empty space. As he rights himself, the hound bursts forth to unleash its Shadow Force upon the Flapple.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]fern delaney

[attr="class","nikita"]Webbed fingers irritably beat away the last few leaves from the initial attack. All over the frog’s body, leaves stuck out like shards of broken glass. The Seismotoad prepared to strike back with a powerful ground-type move, but it didn’t even get the chance to use it. One storm of green is immediately replaced with another. A vicious, heavy-handed tactic like this—especially from a leaguer—catches the normally chill amphibian off guard. “!?”Verdant leaves drew red as the Razor Leaf again hit its mark. With a surprised croak, the water-ground type collapsed to its knees.

For a moment, an uneasy silence reigned. The opponents lay dismembered or mindless before the men. What began as an ambush had twisted into a slaughterhouse.

Like a gourmand, the Nihelego took some time to contemplate its supper. As chaos reigned around it, the jellyfish hovered idly in place. Its gaze remained fixated on an empty patch of rock in the distance. Even the detective’s supreme deduction abilities could not decipher it. “. . .” When the group set off toward the Rocket hideaway, the poison type seemed not to notice at first. Instead, it swirled slowly in its spot like a music box ballerina. Then, as if pushed by a wind, it began to slowly drift after them. Its billowing limbs only paused to draw almost tender lines across the twitching Seismotoad beneath it. A haunting hum emerged as it advanced toward the crevasse in the stone.

As Thomas advanced, Nikita followed. His handgun was pulled from its holster. A single nod followed—there were times when it was best to let a master do his work. “We have your six.” Pausing at a cover point, Nikita could not stop himself from making an observation, “I cannot help but think you have done this before, Mister Benoit.” The man moved with the assurance of a predator. Those eyes held a familiar fire—one that spoke of fearless burning.

The pair drew even with the crack in the wall. With a deep breath, Nikita turned to his Houndstone. “Winters.” With a clattering nod, the dog vanished into the rocky outcropping. A sudden chill followed.

That’s when the screaming started.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Thomas Benoit

[attr="class","nikita"]A sigh shook his frame as he stared down the woman before him. After a day of battles and grunt work, he wished for nothing more than to return home. Perhaps he would nurse a stiff drink while flipping through the news for signs of a case worth his attention. “I believe I just did.” Though the invitation invited mentions of compassion it was quite the opposite.

He simply preferred to go second. Strategizing was much simpler when your opponent revealed their hand. The exception to this is his hunts. But today he was not Laelaps in pursuit of a celestial fox. Instead, Nikita straddled the line between soldier and distraction. Here we go. An Arctovish and Lucario took to the field. An immediate attempt to try and turn the tides. His world soon vanished behind a translucent film of ice and snow. Let’s see.

While Ignatius could make use of such weather, the Glalie’s battle with an Iron Jugulus had left him chipped and worn. The same could be said of his stealthy lizard companion, Anne. Unfortunately, his team did not have a combatant with a direct advantage, and he certainly did not have the luxury of developing a strategy. It appeared this battle would not resolved by a simple type table.

Fortunately, the Lucario’s fighting-type move passes harmlessly through the ghost-type hound. The Freeze Dry’s damage was limited by the dog’s furry hide. “Stone!” Shaking off the frost, the ghost dog unleashed a trio of glowing fireballs. Every one of them aimed at lighting the Lucario aflame.

Not wishing to experience further injury, Nikita evens the odds in that same heartbeat. From a ball at his side, a female Alakazam bursts free. “Barbara.” A thick blue screen diverts the attack into the nearby gully. An amicable nod passes between the man and the psychic type. With an irritable expression, the creature directs a Psycho Cut at the Lucario.

For now, the Arctovish would take second priority. Its ability set was far less of a wildcard than that of the Lucario. And, as a result, less detrimental Nikita’s strategizing. Though this underestimation could prove an Achilles heel, it was a chance he was willing to take. If things went awry, he had a gun within reach. But he would rather not shoot the girl before him.

She could prove useful later.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Victoria Beckett

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective did not reply to the jab—the young woman had a point. Though he would not say she was safe. Bullets did not care whether or not you were on shore. Her astuteness allowed her to point out his hypocrisy. Something punctuated by the messy line of stitches in his sides and the sling around his arm.

She was not wrong, however. Nikita did not care if he lived or died; not as long as he took Rockets out with him. “I am an adult.” He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping fondly to the hound at his side. “My brain is developed enough to understand the consequences of my actions.”

“Dark and…broody?” Nikita’s voice pitched in confusion. His hand dropped to pull at his black gear. If he possessed a cigarette, it would have dropped from his mouth. For a man so eager to die, he seemed quite offended. “There is nothing wrong with black. It was a neutral before depressed children commandeered it.” But the rest of her words ring true—twisting a knife his steel heart had long rusted in place. “There is no one in Hoenn who does not know of loss.” But his was different. It hadn’t come during a war. It was not expected. His children were not combatants, but they had paid for his hubris all the same.

Memories of screams he never heard threatened. He remembered the way he’d found his wife’s burnt corpse—her arms curled protectively over a daughter who was a foot taller. The remnants of their snacks had been burnt to a crisp on the floor. The almost mocking whiteness of the ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign still danging above the stove. “I do.” His admission is quiet and strained. A fissure is visible in his mask. “But I do not think you will find it in an island lost to man for over 2000 years.” He thinks back briefly to the distortions reported lately.

“There are, however, rumors of instability around Route 119.” The stories of the victims were discounted by many in the media. Likely because the dangers beneath their feet were difficult to contemplate. “I would suggest starting there.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Lasciel Elis

[attr="class","nikita"]“I do make those from time to time,” Nikita murmured.

Enraged by the man’s orders—as well as the crushing of its trainer—the Naganadel let loose an unnerving hiss. Poison dripped from its numerous orifices as it debated on skewering the geriatric. Unfortunately, its plans were thwarted as the attackers united their assaults. The dog took his partner’s words to heart. Or, more accurately, the Naganadel’s belly.

As the Dragon Claw bounced off the Skarmory, the Houndstone launched himself beneath the blade bird’s whirring wings. Long claws found their purchase in the dragon’s chitinous flesh. Pink turned mauve as blood poured from the wounds. The Drill Peck slammed into it a few inches higher—tearing through the flesh like an overinflated water balloon. Poison erupted from the wound, hissing where it met the ghost-type’s rocky flesh.

The Meteor Mash collapsed the area between the two. The creature began to move erratically, its wings missing beats—its ability to stay in the sky reduced to a pulsing, crooked mess. But it did not fall yet. Instead, it responded to the attackers with a powerful burst of insectoid energy—a Bug Buzz. The Houndstone vanished into the darkness between life and death, exposing the other two Pokemon.

“I believe that was our intent, Mister Toral.” Turning away from the skyborne carnage, he nodded toward the opposite side of the clearing. “I will check on the poisoned here.” The detective murmured as he approached the beleaguered defenders. “The rest of them should be right up ahead.” But things change quickly in war, a fact that Mister Toral would soon see for himself.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Aaron Toral

[attr="class","nikita"]The tree’s fight seems to leave him as the bug turns toward it. With a jump, it tries to scramble out of the way. Its stubby legs collapse as it picks up speed, Fake Tears pours from its beady eyes, splattering the ground with wetness. leaving the rock at the mercy of the steel bug’s blows. After the second hit, it begins to fight back. Its legs lash out in an attempt at a Low Kick.

Dancing idly through the air, the Nihelego draws closer to the thrashing Sudowoodo. Its bonnet undulates as if contemplating the sight before it. In mannerism, it resembles an art critic at an exhibit, judging the squabbling with a detached air. With a few pumps of its tentacles, it moves to hover over the rock type’s head. Transparent limbs fill with void as it Wraps its tentacles around the false tree’s head. Its neurotoxins work their magic and drain the creature of its fight. Now inky, the tentacles drift back. For a moment, the Ultra Beast ‘stares’ at the Scizor.

The Toucannon takes the opportunity to breathe. The Weavile’s temporarily disabled state gives it a moment to shake its head and evaluate the damage. Powerful wings spread as it gives a few testing flaps. Just as it takes to the sky, the Weavile turns back and unleashes its icicle spears. Its upward movement drives its breast right into the ice type’s range. The spear passes right through its heart. When it falls to the ground, dead, its expression is one of surprise.

Blade-like leaves slice heavily into the Seismotoad’s back. POP! One of its nodules bursts open with a cascade of white mud. With a slow, lumbering shift, the beast turns to face the Decidueye. Taking the opportunity, the Intelleon dodges around the beast. Its water attacks are useless. Clapping the Decidueye on the shoulder, she returns to her trainer’s side.

A hand points through the glade toward the hidden entrance to the camp While she was tempted to kill the ambushers herself, she knew such decisions were best left to humanity.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Thomas Benoit

[attr="class","nikita"]The Intelleon did not rejoice in her success. The tendency to gload cost many their lives, and she had no intention of being one. Nor would she turn away from a downed opponent. That’s what her enslaver did after he sliced her throat. Yellow eyes merely blinked as she lifted her hand for another attack. This time, the water pulsated at the end of their fingertips.

Blue-grey eyes meet Fern’s with a tired, wan expression..“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” A modest statement emerges which does not fit the detective’s typical demeanor. But being right about malcontents in a war zone was certainly nothing to crow about. In scenarios like this, you typically had the same odds as a coin flip. A sigh pushed past his lips, a noise of tired resignation. “A pity.”


Nikita disguised his surprise when the other man appeared in front of him. Salt-and-pepper brows descended as he shifted the longer gun into a firing position. His wan lips spread in greeting as he shifted the gun into his hand. “Afternoon.” The wisecrack received a shake of the head in response. “Your asylum to recruitment pipeline was quite the inspiration.” This mask was one he knew. Perhaps a person who knew why his family fell that day. Or, at least, one the world would be better off without. All he needed to do was push the trigger.

Then, the vines appeared. “Tch.” Nikita shifted the rifle back to his shoulder as he forced his aching bones to jump away. Fortunately, his legs were unaffected.


The Water Pulse misses the traveling pair by a fair distance. Only sand takes the blow, flopping heavily back to the shore. Its injured mouth twists in an irritable expression as she pivots to face Fern and his living piece of compost. What a pest. Just as she went to fire, one of those wives wrapped around her ankles and jerked her upward. “!?” A croak followed as she tried to retaliate with another burst of water. Arms spread out as she tried to slow her descent.

“Winters.” A ghost flickered into place behind Fern and his dragon. A deep, spectral growl emerged from its empty ribs as the canine detective turned its ire upon the interloper. A hellish red light flared in its eyes as it responded with a Will-o-Wisp.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]fern delaney

[attr="class","nikita"]The dark-haired man chuckled, the sound more growl than good humor. How many times had he contemplated this exact scenario? How often had he come close to tossing months of planning away in favor of sinking a blade into a well-protected admins throat? Nikita was surprised to find he no longer knew. “You forget our opponents are zealots. There is no logic in much of what they do.” The slightest pause followed. “For people like us, blindness seems like an even trade.”


Any further thoughts to the alarming similarities between himself and his opponents ended almost immediately. From his vantage point, the detective did his best to keep track of the battles around them. He soon dismissed his hound’s battle in favor of the others. Winters knew how to handle himself in a fight. The singular opponent would not be taxing on the old dog. Instead, he fixated on the problem of battle and evacuation. A few of the hostages were dead on their feet. Their skin ran through with signs of poison.


“Barbara.” A third Pokemon joined his team—an older female Alakazam. The pair locked eyes for a moment as he passed his parcel to her. “Please evacuate the stragglers. Treat who you can.” As the arch collapsed, the ground shook beneath them. A few Rockets were crushed in the after math—limbs sticking from between boulders like macabre desert flowers. Fortunately, the psychic-type managed to pull the remaining League defenders to safety. A few needles were distributed as she prepared for a fight.

Wiping dust from her brow, the Intelleon continued to fire upon the enemies approaching them.

Winters, meanwhile, narrowly avoided a floating spike as he bounced off the Naganadel’s back. Blood dripped down his claws like melted dye off a candy cane. His outline shimmered as his ectoplasmic energies kept gravity’s pull at bay. As the Metagross attacked, the specter took a few moments to catch his breath. With some semblance of order, the Houndstone began to glow pink again. Remembering its lack of reaction to a headshot, Nikita recalls an old fact. “Target its abdomen,” Nikita shouted up to Detective Winters. “That's where its brain is.” With a nod, the dog did as bidden.

Not finished by any means, the Naganadel responded quickly to the dual attacks. Its wings beat the air rapidly as a Dragon Pulse dyed the air around it a bright violet.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Aaron Toral