[attr="class","nikita"]The detective’s eyes slid toward the teenager. Below them, typically flat lips were pursed into a thin line. Is this level of foolhardiness typical of youth, or am I merely misfortunate? As one might expect, his mind did not answer. While he may have fallen far from his lofty perch, he had yet to go fully mad. As the talk of talk advantages ensued, Nikita could not resist a sigh.

“It is not our pain, however.” The idea that type advantages were what truly determined battles was a juvenile one. Naganadel were certainly more than toxic syringes. They were monsters from an alternate dimension—creatures known for their adaptability and speed. “We were given a task, Mister Toral. That is what we should focus on.” Being distracted by an assassination could mean the end of an ailing soldier or their Pokemon.

The boy’s self-assured attitude coaxed out a chuckle. The sound was unnerving—as ghostly and intangible as the wind in a haunted wood. “Then, you are fortunate.” No doubt the truly dangerous foes did not find a child worth fighting over. Their goal was to break into the mountain. It was not made easier by picking fights with every greenhorn that came one’s way. Nikita shifted the pack upon his back. “But even gnats will eventually draw a crocodile’s eyes.” The lizard flickered back into sight, her yellow underbelly catching Nikita’s attention.

A water jet emerged between them. It scattered across the ground, clearing the mud from a recycled land mine. “Watch where you step, Aaron.” Nikita's voice dropped to a whisper as he lifted his eyes toward the incline ahead of him. It seemed approaching unseen would be difficult.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective remained unimpressed. Salt-and-pepper lowered into a glower. Perhaps it was because he hated his own signs of illogical thought. Or, maybe, Nikita just detested the idea of someone pointing out the obvious. Though, he did give the mask-wearing gentleman “It actually happened to be quite cathartic.” For him, anyway. The fact that his abilities had gotten him so close—only to fail on a technicality—raised his hackles.

Skeletal hands gently ghosted over the platform before them.

Dull nails traced the symbols etched in stone. Deep thought highlighted the wrinkles in his face. A few of them he recognized. Or, at least, could derive their meaning from what he knew of associated languages. It was rather like breaking code—albeit with the threat of imminent death instead of some action movie break-in. Listening to Dwayne, Nikita took a step toward it. “I believe it’s Ancient Dracovid.”

With a sigh, he stepped away from the pedestal. While he’d done a similar translation earlier, this one seemed more worn. “It states something about…an offering…and a newt?” Perhaps that was dragon and claw? Maybe that was gift and not offering. Turning toward the door, Nikita let his eyes trail across the far wall.

It was likely something to do with the gem, but the dust covering every surface made such things difficult to spot.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]As the dragon made contact with the sea, Howard did his best to vanish out of sight. With a powerful burst of his tail, the fish shifted to a small outcropping of rock. With a silent prayer, the timid fish tried to dim his telltale lght. But it didn’t exactly have an off button. Still, from this angle, it should be harder to see him.

From his perch, Nikita watched the scene with a thin-liipped frown. He was not a man driven by emotion. It would not be inaccurate to say heart beat in binary. Unfortunately, he was a father and still driven by the remnants of paternal instinct. Though the sight of a dragon made him doubt the innocence of this girl, he also had no intention of frying a child’s synapses. “Hold.” He ordered with apparent exasperation. Another discharge sputtered out, the fish clinging tightly to its craggy hiding spot.

“Anne.” An Intelleon appeared beside her trainer as her camouflage sputtered out. “Come with me, if you will.” Fingers extended in a threatening way, the man and his assassin approached. The latter caressed the butt of his firearm as if soothing it.

His feet came to rest among the gravel. "While against my better judgment, I have no intention of slaughtering a child." A pair of handcuffs appeared in his old, skeletal hands. "Come quietly, and I will not escalate."

Beneath them, the Lanturn began to charge its next attack.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]From his sheltered perch, Nikita watched the dragon make its approach. Fortunately, it was a standard Hydreigon and not one of the steel monstrosities he’d earlier encountered. Taking out that beast had proven a challenge. In failing to do so, he also realized his own lack of flying Pokemon provided quite detrimental in situations like this.

Perhaps it was because his wife loved the freedom of the air that he had been so reluctant to take to it himself. A prickly method of self-defense, illogical and foolish, that had snuck its way insidiously into his thoughts. One that he would crush with logic and dismissive sneers. There was no need to complicate his revenant existence with things like nostalgia. Robin was Orthworm food. There was nothing to honor except a charred, burnt corpse in a Johtoan grave.

Nothing he had could give chase to this invader if it chose to ignore the gentle landing pad of the shore. Fortunately, it seemed a dragon could still fall into a figurative lobster trap.

As he prepared an alternative response, the Hydreigon splashed down into the kill zone with a geyser of water. The tickling on its skin was the only warning as the current and the water would combine to form a deadly trap. The dragon likely saw a flash of bright blue as the Lanturn beneath it unleashed a powerful Discharge.

At about that time, Nikita noticed the size of the rider. Was that a child? It was either that or someone afflicted with dwarfism. Which, when you considered percentages, was far more unlikely. Shit. "Howard!" He shouted into his mouthpiece.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]As the camp faded from view, Nikita tossed out a familiar figure. The lanky Intelleon’s throat was marked by a horrific scar. The only noise it made came courtesy of its breathing. “Anne.” A nod of respect was offered to his ally—the pair brought together not by companionship but a mutual, burning hatred. “Would you be so kind as to cover our sixes?” With an inclined head of her own, the Intelleon vanished into a rippled state of invisibility.

The Houndstone at his side let out a grunt. This single noise had a thousand different meanings. In this case, however, Nikita took it to be a wish for good luck. Which, in Anne’s case, would mean bad luck for everyone else. A powerful burst from her back legs sent her to the top of a nearby crag. Trusting her judgment completely, the detective did not watch to see what she prepared. Only after this was complete did he turn to face his younger companion.

“We are to deliver the medicine, Mister Toral.” Certainly, a task he felt beneath him, but one of which he could see the necessity. “Engaging the Naganadel is to be avoided, if possible.” Unlike the commander, he remembered names relatively well. At least until someone made them annoying enough to not be worth the headspace. Something teenagers proved surprisingly adept at.

“I am sure you will find other ways to sate your bloodlust.” A will-o-wisp from Winters lent his newly lit cigarette a ghoulish, purple glow. He did not offer one to the child. It was a terrible habit. One he indulged in because living was such a chore. “The camp is likely surrounded by dissidents.” The latter word was twisted in a way to make it obvious he meant scum.

As the landscape became more crowded, his hand drifted to the gun at his side. Unfortunately, he had to do so with his non-dominant arm. The other was in a sling after a mauling courtesy of his own Glalie’s Ice Shard.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Nikita remembered why he refused to not only negotiate with terrorists but to talk to them. It was increasingly apparent that this woman belonged in an asylum, not a terrorist organization. And, if he hated anything, it was the illogical. In all honesty, the detective was surprised he did not break out into hives.

The detective was used to admiration from madmen, but it rarely filled him with joy. It was no different than being complimented by a serial killer. Though his mind was racing to come up with a plan, Nikita’s words implied a sense of cool detachment. “We were born with brains for a reason for a reason. It is a pity so few people use them.” Her taunt is met with a frown. With all of his Pokemon at his command—and a firearm—he was not overly worried for his own safety. “I was not aware I was in a predicament.”

As an Absol joined the fray, he allowed his gaze to swift toward his Alakazam. With a slightly concerned nod, the Alakazam took her place beside her old friend. At the talk of dry twigs, the Alakazam almost laughed. But her eyes shifted sympathetically to the detective at her side. The pain within him was something not even her empathy could absorb. “And how, pray tell, is it different? The only people who believe they can predict the future are charlatans.” While he knew he could certainly make educated guesses, he did not believe himself infallible. And he was virtually a genius.

At the insult, the elder human sighed. Had they truly been reduced to schoolyard insults? He had never cared much about his appearance, and he did not plan to start doing so now. “I do not think anyone has.” Nikita entertained her nonsense dryly. “Thank you for the fascinating insight.”

Then, his eyes caught on the woman’s tapping fingers. At this distance the little tinks are audible. He recalls seeing the same movements above. Hm. Let’s see. Three taps lead to the dragon dance If we keep that in mind… All of these calculations occurred in seconds. In the end, he had himself a rough approximation of what he was saying. A feint maneuever, interesting. A hand briefly brushed the Alakazam, sending images of a plan of his own.

A hand movement of his own—seen by the waiting dog—stopped it from intervening. Instead, it aimed to finish its Phantom Force right into Xenon’s unprotected back. As the Absol charged, the Alakazam did not move. Her muzzle twitched nervously as she did her best to trust the washed-up man beside her. Now. A twitch of fingers indicated.

With a brief glow, the Akazam teleported out of the way. As she vanished, Nikita lifted his gun, aiming to fire a shot into the Absol’s side.

Focused on this battle, Nikita did not get a chance to see what occurred above. An irritable hiss erupted as the Sheer Cold missed. Watching as the dragon dove for its prize, Ignatius’s eyes flared a bright cerulean. Spinning like a top, it aimed to bring itself even with the Iron Jugulus. With a loud call, it sent four Ice Shards rocketing toward its chest—aiming to pin the bomb in place.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Upon reaching the entrance, the mist had thinned to the point of a light mist. Just outside the rough arch, sunlight could be seen—almost teasing in its joviality. It almost seemed to taunt them with the promise of peace. One taken just out of reach by the iron soldier before them. As its first attack sent Kazimir sprawling, Nikita hopped just out of reach of its deadly blade.

The dark energy cleaved the air in front of his stomach. The mist hissed around it as the blade completed its misdirected arc. A strike that would have warmed the earth with his entrails if it landed. With no Pokemon in the immediate vicinity, the detective lifted his gun to fire a bullet into whatever served as this thing's brain. Something made a bit difficult from the close range.

While trained in numerous self-defense techniques, he did not fancy battling a being of metal. Much like the other future forms they faced, this one’s exoskeleton was designed to be tough—a requirement in whatever hellscape they hailed from. With a series of beeping noises, the Iron Valiant lifted its blade again. This time it crackled with the energy of the earth. The smell of pine trees wafted throughout the area.

CRASH! The Houndstone—earlier vanished into a portal—reappeared in the space between it and his wan companion. Its appearance shattered the very fabric between this world and the next—leaving pieces of the veil scattered around it like mirror shards. Without missing a beat, the faithful hound launched itself toward the fairy-type with an open maw. Its Psychic Fangs aimed to cleave the beast’s staff in two with a single bite—leaving its greatest weapon out of commission.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","nikita"]With his arm still in a sling, the detective opted to remain close to HQ. While he’d powered through for the first few hours, the repeated motion had left him with a deep ache in his shoulder. It seemed to resist any attempt to soothe it at this point. Even the shots and painkillers could only reduce it to a 6/10 on the pain scale. But war did not care about how he felt. Rockets would not wait to attack until he felt like battling them.

Indicated as an invasion risk, Nikita had been dispatched to a small inlet just beyond the main infirmary. The thickly clustered rocks in this area made it an ideal place to sneak up on the injured members of their party. A few of them were currently sitting ducks in makeshift hammocks. Fortunately, the same geographical features offered plenty of observation points and ammunition.

With some assistance from his Intelleon (and Detective Winters), the injured Nikita made his way to the tallest spire in the area. Long, almost skeletal legs hung off its edge, the dusted loafers swaying in an unknown breeze. His typical handgun had been swapped for something with longer reach and a good deal more firepower. A shimmering curtain of invisibility kept them out of sight for the most part—only movement disrupting the illusion.

The same could be said of the fog below. The pattern of its swirling changed.

“Anne.” A brief shock of black caught the detective’s attention. It appeared that someone was moving on the beach below. Far ahead of her human trainer—irritated by the insinuation that she had missed the person—the Intelleon lifted her arm and fired off a Hydro Pump. The first was a warning.

This kindness did not extend to the second. With the force of a high-powered fire hose, this one aimed for the intruder’s skull. “I would ask what you are after.” The voice echoes oddly between the stones. “But I am certain it does not involve sympathy cards.”

The curtain rippled briefly as he reached for the gun at his side.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]The bullet went off course. It whistled past the other man’s shoulders before disappearing into the tempestuous waves beyond.Tired eyes watched the darker man from behind his mask. His lips pressed into a thin line—though,this was not a sign of concern. “That wound looks rather severe, Mister Quinn.” Nikita took a deep breath. “If you come with us, they will treat it.”

A look of anger flashed. “Even if you do not deserve it.” While this man was no Underboss, he still had played a role in many tragedies perpetrated by Rocket. Perhaps he’d even burnt another family’s house down in a pursuit of terroristic ends. In Nikita’s eyes, no one who willfully chose to join was innocent. Even the children were warped.

His nostrils narrowed as Ignatius and Mitten faced off against one another. Unfortunately, the inability to mmediately attack left Ignatius on the back (figurative) foot. As time went on, the deadly toxins continued to spread. Clear white ice soon taking on a lilac hue. “Ignatius, it is all right.” Nikita’s left arm hung mostly limp at his side. “I have been through worse.”

And, it seemed, Mitten wished him to feel more. Even if the pain of this attack would not compare to the things he felt when he saw the burnt wreckage of his home, it was best to be avoided. Another bullet was fired at the charging cat. At the same time, Ignatius charged to intersect.

Nikita stumbled back just in time for Ignatius to take the hit. “Tch.” He threw his arm across his face as sparks chipped at his skin. With a ghostly wail—not dissimilar to a keening blizzard—the poisoned Pokemon collapsed onto the ground. The baby blues dimmed before closing. “Thank you, Ignatius.”

With a snarl, his Houndstone prepared a Play Rough.

He forced his deadened hand to wrap around a ball. Its white-on-red surface soon became blood-slicked.

Total MP
50 participation
100 shore
50 posts
200 loss
50 pokemon knockout

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Tempest Quinn

[attr="class","nikita"]Before he was ‘rescued’ by Kazimir, Nikita was assigned to deliver antidotes. With all the battles raging, there was not much for a detective to do. The entire area was awash in countless crimes, but none that required his expertise. There was no stealthy stalking required or many codes left to break.

Unfortunately, the idea of sitting on his laurels in a situation like this did not satisfy him. So, he sat beside the commander’s tent for some time. His hound’s skull lay across his lap, the creature’s napping restless and inconsistent. “Sokolov.” The man turned toward the open tent flap as one of the organizers emerged. He glanced at the sheet in his hand. The ordering man turned toward another man in the crowd. “Torkoal.”

Nikita watched the man’s hand as he talked. The callouses indicated a life of hard living. His bearing suggested former military, but a slight unsteadiness indicated something neurological. “We need a box of antidotes delivered to the north camp. I will send the coordinates shortly.” The detective nodded, standing and gently lowering his hound to the ground. “There’s a Naganadel doing a fuckton of damage out there.”

A sigh followed as Nikita turned to his companion. The warning to be careful was neglected. There was no safety in this place. A backpack was slid over Nikita’s shoulders. A similar one was offered to the boy in front of him. “Let’s go.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]At the talk of not needing to repeat himself, Nikita sighed. What a useless thing to say. His flat lips merely pursed more tightly. “That is fortunate.” The agent's grey eyes flickered briefly to the tree. He offered it a simple nod of greeting.

His gaze then slid toward the Iron Thorns. Its rate of motion was surprising—its heavy armor posing no real obstacle to its locomotion. When ordered to make haste, Nikita only inclined his head. He did not wish to deprive someone with a hero’s complex from getting their fix. “I will see you on the other side.” With that, he began to jog away, hoping to evade the influence of the figurative blood in the water.

The Z-move drew a raised brow. While it was certainly welcome, it certainly seemed a bit overly theatrical.

A sharp whistle—meant to corral his Pokemon toward him—did nothing of the sort. He caught a glimpse of his Wigglytuff as she was sent careening through the air. An attempt to return her ended in a sputtering of red light. A spindle from an Iron Jugulus cut through the mist. There was a deep growl and a call of puff ball alarm. Something metal clanged together.

“. . .” This time, when he pushed the ball, nothing emerged. It was as dead as Marley in The Christmas Carol. Which meant little Mirabella was similarly doornail like. He did not offer an apology, for he had nothing to give it to. Still, he would drink something to her this night. When Kazimir appeared through the mist, Nikita sighed. “The Wigglytuff seems to have become a snack.”

As his eyes scoured the mist, they narrowed. “I am sure Winters is well. He will return when he has dealt with the attacker.” Howard, however, was more of a wildcard. “We would be better to be focused on ourselves, however.” The longer they fought, the more these beasts would swarm. It was an impossible fight.

With a pounding heart, he attempted another recall. This time the light found its target. Briefly, the fog lit up in the outline of the Lanturn before it faded from view. Suddenly, the trajectory of the mists seem to change. There was now a chill to them and a motion. More like a spring’s dampness than the dense, opaque soup of earlier.“I believe the exit is just ahead.”

But was it still unguarded?

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]Kazimir Wynter

[attr="class","nikita"]Outside of the illusion, his Intelleon patrolled a series of rock spires. Her nimble footing and invisibility allowed her to do with a high degree of subtlety. With no vocal box to speak of, her approach was silent. Water swirled at the tip of her finger, ready to unleash a punishing missle at any would-be assailant.

With his notes scribbled onto his secured tablet, Nikita followed a few paces behind. His gun rested idly in his fingertips, a finger posed on the safety. “Most people would be curious, Monsieur Benoit.” A salt-and-pepper brow jerked upward. “Do you not wonder what wisdom the ancients bestowed” The detective scoffed.

Suddenly, a powerful burst of water rocketed past them into a scraggy area ahead. It revealed a gleaming web of electricity—almost invisible in the sunlight.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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