[attr="class","nikita"]The elder man nods simply, though he makes no move to approach. He is aware of the frightening effect larger, male strangers can have on solo women. Especially one who looked like a revenant. Not a man to waste time—especially on idle chit-chat—Nikita made his way toward a nearby wall. His hands gently traced worn-out letters left in the stone.

But it was no wisdom for the ages. A quick translation reviewed it was some pointless schoolyard taunt. The sort of things suburban children wrote to try and exude the aura of a hardened criminal. In the end, it merely embarrassed all parties involved. “I am surprised the trip was so uneventful.” While there had been troops sent ahead, the ship itself had carried some of the League’s strongest advocates and leaders. It offered an effective way to remove the snake’s head. And, yet, the trip had been no different from the dullard day cruises his Robin had been so fond of.

They are intended for more insidious gases—” The kind that burned your mucus membranes from the inside out and degraded your eyes until they resembled blackened, over-ripened grapes. “--but they have been shown to help stave off the mist’s...less desirable effects.” In a war zone, nerves were high enough without throwing hallucinations into the mix. The solution was not a permanent one. Nor did they keep the denizens of this opalescent fog at bay.

At the talk of danger, the detective shook his head. “It is not the exposure that worries me.” Psychological effects could be dealt with simply—often with simple exposure to fresh air. “It is what hides here that concerns me.” As if summoned by his words—which, perhaps, it was—a deafening stomp shook the ground around them. Something trumpeted.

“I would suggest we go further inside.” The narrower paths seemed easier to defend. But, before he can retreat, another unseen creature crackles. The noise is surprisingly close. But, when he turns, only the swirling mist indicates his hallucinations have not yet extended to the auditory.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Yuina Higashi

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective scrutinized the young woman for a moment. Great eyes swept up and down, noting things like where, outfit quality, and physical characteristics. Things like the way she stood and the way she approached him were key to helping understand a potential opponent.

All he saw, was a nervous child who appeared to be in over her head. Of course, it was not as if he could ask her which side of the war she fell on. He found that terrorists were low to admit such things in typical conversation.

Fortunately, he had taken time during their journey to acquaint himself with as many of his colleagues as possible. It would be a shame if a bullet went into the wrong head.

"Good afternoon." His voice as always sounded tired and wan. "I saw you on the boat earlier." Something in his eye in her eyes made him want to trust her, a strange sensation that he fiercely bucked against.

A familiar figure walks through the mist in front of him. The long chestnut hair evokes 100 different feelings in the old man's chest. But he did not take off after this hallucination.

His wife was gone. That was one thing he knew for certain in this messed up, desolate world.

"Have you ever encountered inter-dream mist before?" The question seems more cursory than curiosity. As the fog begins to climb. Strange noises start to build in tempo and volume.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Yuina Higashi

[attr="class","nikita"]With attacks raining down on all sides, the cavern begins to shake. These manmade areas have survived for thousands of years. But just one touch from this modern, mad world seems enough to tear it asunder.

The mysteries of the place await just beyond the door. Nikita can feel his inner beast awakening—demanding a puzzle, a mystery, a diversion. But there will be none of that if they allow these attacks to go unimpeded. I’m sorry old chap. This is a game for younger, less-sullied souls.

Ignoring that base urge, Nikita turns to the dog at his side. He already had his chance at an easy road. One that had been crumbled by monsters like those in front of him. And this encounter gives him a chance to sate his other desire revenge.

He does not need to turn to his hound to know it has reached the same decision.“Winters.” Empty sockets turn to face the oncoming storm. “I trust we are in agreement?” The skeletal dog nods. A gun is slipped from his pocket—the safety flickered off. Blue-grey eyes flick from person to person before settling on a group. He aims to scatter them like bowling pins—an analogy he is familiar with, even if he detests the sport itself.

“Play Rough.” With a snarl, the old dog dives for their targeted groups. Every limb flails in a hungry, chaotic burst of fairy power. Hopefully, one of these fools would teeter from the cliff’s edge. Lessen the paperwork load.

The tired revenant of a man turns to his comrades. A simple nod of respect follows. "Go." He says to all that remain unshackled.

90 BP - Play Rough

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]

[attr="class","nikita"]When he had left the Nautica’s vessel, Nikita was not surprised to see many of his colleagues scatter. The majority of them plunged into the island’s center, eager to face their foes. This left the landing shore a figurative ghost town—aside from the medical and comms team. But the detective knew rushing rarely produced the desired results.

So, before departing, he took a moment to enjoy a cigarette. With each tap, the ashes disappeared into the surf and faded to nothingness. Likely not too dissimilar to the fate of life itself. After a moment, he turned his attention to the cliffs to the east of their landing point. “Come, Winters.” With a groan of determination, the skeletal dog rose to follow at his companion’s heel.

A brief investigation of these crags revealed a human-sized crack at its edges. From it, he could hear whistling. “Hm.” Curious if this rift would allow access to the grotto, he nodded to his hound. After a moment, the dog returned, beckoning the detective inside. Soon, the small tunnel expanded and began to slope upward. A number of different entrances became visible.

And, as they did, the interdream mist around them became more apparent. "I see." Reaching into his shoulder bag, he began to rummage for a gas mask. His investigations stalled, however, when the dog at his side began to growl.

They were not alone.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Yuina Higashi

[attr="class","nikita"]“That is what I said, yes,” Nikita replied drily. It appeared his partner was more parrot than man.

A shadow appeared on the far door as the Houndstone returned from its quest. It seemed to struggle to pass through the wall. The typical intangibility mired by some strange force. “Stone.” A single glance was shared between them—one inscrutable to most. But the set of his jaws told Nikita what he had already surmised: escape was unlikely.“Unfortunate.” The detective turned to face the other man just in time for him to cough.“It appears phasing out is not an option.” Not for them, anyway.

With a deep internal sigh, the detective approached Dwayne’s position. Fortunately, it appeared the Heimlich Maneuver would be unnecessary. Behind his gas mask, eyes shifted toward the text on the pillar. “Claw would make the most sense.” At the talk of flowery language, Nikita scoffed. “The ancients entertained themselves in the oddest of ways.”

Nikita waited a heartbeat. A few more. “I take it you do not have a dragon on your person?” Typically, he did not either. The creatures were often too hot-headed and egotistic for his liking. There was, after all, only so much room for hot air. Fortunately, a client had paid him in many pounds of flesh the previous week. An unwanted gift he had stuck into the pocket of the very vest he now wore.

The idea of dropping the creature at a sanctuary had been waylaid by this silly ruckus.

Typically upset at being paid in living creatures, he was grateful for this particularly poor client.

Nudging aside his cigarettes, he coaxed out the ball. “I am hopeful he can help.” With a lazy flick of the wrist, a Duraludon took to the platform. It looked between the men with a look of confusion. Where am I? That look seemed to say. “Excuse me, Edmond, I believe you were called?” The dragon type nodded—hesitantly. “Can you please hit the gem? I am afraid it is of the utmost importance.” If they did not want to rot here, at least.


The steel-type tapped hesitantly at the giant ruby as if it expected it to explode. Nikita shook his head. “With a little more oomph, I’m afraid. A Dragon Claw to be precise?” With a nod, the Duraludon did as requested. “DURRRR!” It’d always been a lot more sheep-minded than your typical drake. The purple energy reverberated through the gem and something grated below.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective sighed—the sound akin to a soul leaving his body. Some part of him wished to be blown from this earth by this madwoman, if only to put an end to the stupidity he had to suffer. But it was certainly not because he felt he was in a predicament. The very idea. “You assume I do not have contingencies.” He had not solved the unsolvable without facing danger.

So, now she merely ensured the future? It seemed the girl was not short on self-confidence. “And how do the bones help with that?” Nikita asked with a hint of exasperation. A bit of smoke emerged from his mouth, swirling idly in the air before them. “It seems like a needless bit of chicanery.” Maybe she just needed something to blame things on when her predictions went array.

Nikita’s gun snaps back as the Absol tumbles into the dirt. For some reason, he had moved his hand at the last minute—depriving himself of a perfect shot. It was difficult to kill a Pokemon for playing obedient puppet. With a hiss, he throws his arm up to protect his sight from the explosion of light. As the beast jumps toward him, he lifts his gun again and fires twice more.

A Pokeball rises into his hand. But it seemed there would not be time to throw it. At this distance, his Glalie cannot see his trainer’s distress. Shit. Even Barbara did not have time to dash into the fray. And, even if she did, it would merely cripple her as well. Fortunately, Nikita was not alone. His hound had been so protective of his trainer that it had clawed itself from the grave—shedding its skin like an old, nasty coat.

A sense of smugness envelops the dog as he feels the woman slip from the dragon’s back. He lands heavily upon her, dull skeleton claws digging into her top. But this sense of elation ended. Nikita! The old hound’s mind filled with alarm. Winters knew that he could dodge or save his trainer, but he could not do both. You owe me for this, you old bastard. Just as the dragon’s jaws found their target, the dog spit out a Shadow Ball at the attacking cat’s face. It didn’t have to hurt the cat, just knock it off course.

As teeth clamped down, Winters lit up with a ghostly fire, hopeful the Garchomp wasn’t a fan of spicy food. Fortunately, his Fluffy ability would prove his bone stronger than first thought.

When the fire attacks hit, Ignatius immediately responds with another Protect. Water begins to drip as the heat threatens to bust through. The instant the assault ends, he flies forward, aiming to Crunch down on one of the nasty bastard’s heads.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Xenon Antheil

[attr="class","nikita"]A yellow eye flashes to Nikita, curious how the detective would respond to such a reductive statement. The idea that this man held some figurative leash was deceitful—even if it would be a common assessment. “She and I are... associates.” Nikita gently corrected. “I would not say she is my anything.” The same principle applied to all of the Pokemon in his care. It made it easier to not shoulder responsibility for their actions. For their deaths.


He truly doubted these tired shoulders could carry any more. As loathe as he was to admit it, he was merely a mortal man. Not some mythical Atlas burdened with everyone’s nonsense. A similar mindset drove Anne to simply incline her head in response. Even before she had her voice stolen, socializing was far from the top of her to-do list.


While the Pokemon battled, Nikita lit up a cigarette. This time, he did so with a metal lighter. Perhaps to spare his tired hound from producing another ghoulish flame. “I am certain this creature is merely a vanguard.” One that would soon be joined by his confused squad mates as the killing floor remained unoccupied. “We will have company shortly.” With grey-blue eyes, he tracked another powerful burst of water as Anne danced out of the way of a powerful Iron Tail.


“Do what you must to prepare.” Perhaps she would lay a trap of her own. Or, like many people of her caste, wait for someone else to do it for her. As long as she did not pray, it would work out in the end. “Winters.” With a single glance, the Houndstone set out to surround the area with will-o-wisps.

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Elise Calcifet

[attr="class","nikita"]Darwin’s law existed for children like this, Nikita thought. The gung-ho and foolhardy who typically died first in war. Those who relished the idea of battling for glory. Or, at least they did, until their entrails were spilled hot and steaming upon the ground. “And what will happen to the poisoned while you vanquish this beast?” Nikita asks with no small degree of wryness. “Shall we tell them to suffer a few moments whilst you play dragonslayer?” While he himself did not trust the league—for he trusted practically no one; most people were idiots—he also knew they were capable of taking out a single deranged lunatic.

Staring at the mines for a moment, Nikita turned to his Houndstone. “We must first secure the area, Mister Toral.” Eye sockets glowing with a fierce violet light, the Houndstone dropped the mines into a shadowy portal. “Patience is just as important a virtue as gallantry.” Where and what they would do in the phantom zone was anyone’s guess, but it was better than leaving them here for their comrades to be blown up by. With slow, methodological steps, Nikita moved to clear a path through the area—the hound ensuring the Scizor’s mine was removed as well.

Another bloodthirsty plan—why was he not surprised? He despises Rocket as much as the boy, likely more, but he preferred to do his work from the shadows. Silently picking off key figures from the shadows. “And, we will find ourselves trapped against the edge of a cliff.” Stll, he ddid not relish the idea of walking up there. There was little desire in his life to be a sitting Ducklett. “Call out your Metagross but keep it in the air.” The elder man said as he turned to Anne. Her maw split open in a tongueless grin, revealing needle-like teeth. “We at least can take out a few guards without notice.” High-velocity water certainly made a dent in Kevlar.

From a side pouch, he pulled out a pair of binoculars. These he used to peer at the camp above them. “There appear to be four in sight—likely two more blocked by the rocks.” Fortunately, the small platform did not allow much room for dodging.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]The fear was not a reaction he expected. While he knew he was no longer a handsome young fox—merely a revenant who ran on caffeine and vengeance—it was not often people showed such revulsion. A fact made odder by the fact that he had not yet threatened the girl. The girl’s words made him blink. Once. Twice. “Pardon?” Thrice.

Beside him, his Pokemon seemed equally perplexed. The mute creature opened her mouth as if to comment on the ridiculousness of the situation, only to remember she could not comment on anything. And, even if she did, that these hairless monkeys would not understand her. As a Metagross took to the stage, he became more suspicious. From the grown Pokemon to her body language, there was something oddly not childlike about this girl. “I am not a pervert.” His teeth gritted—surprisingly upset about such an accusation. Since Robin’s passing, he had not so much as even looked at a woman. And Nikita had never looked at a child.

But any suspicions were shaken away. This was merely his discomfort talking. A duck was sometimes just a duck. And a strangely adult child was merely mature for his or her age.

So, until definitely proven otherwise, he would treat this child as, well, a child. “You have landed in a warzone.” He explained, a headache growing behind his eyes. He almost wished someone was shooting at him. “This sector of the island has been claimed by the League.” From his pocket, he procured an ID. This he flashed toward her, the League insignia visible from a distance. “It will be safer for you back at camp.”

No doubt someone would shoot at her if she took to the skies again, With a sigh, he tucked the handcuffs back into his pocket. "And slaughtering a child is always against my better judgment. But this situation is...suspicious." He really had never been good with children. Even his own were sometimes seen as awkward, alien creatures.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective shook his head. “It is nowhere near that exotic, I assure you.” It was merely a promise of great riches for the one who reunited him and his Stunfisk. Not something he was overly interested in him. That was not to say he did not appreciate the diversion—merely that the chase was the goal. At the talk of Meteno, the detective scoffed.

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, Mister Benoit.” He believed in many things. But fate? That some god had a purpose for blowing his house up and killing almost everyone in it? Bullshit. Even with all his knowledge—years of studying the human mind—he was surprised at every turn. To think that everything could be predicted made it all so meaningless.

All the pain he caused. The blood that stained his hands, unseen but ever-present. It was just a silly bit in someone’s grand design. Each movement of those trapped on it is as useless as impactful as the slightest tremor of a Galvantula’s web. One not unlike what stood before him. The droplets from his Intelleon’s attack reflected the sparks beautifully. “Quite likely.”

The man’s tired eyes narrowed. He had no doubt that other obstacles awaited them—some far more dangerous than others. “It would be a shame to keep them waiting.” Brushing aside what remained of the web, he pushed deeper into the kill zone.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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