[attr="class","nikita"]The detective listened with an icy detachment. Many people confused manners for kindness, a fact he always found laughable. “I am afraid I would not know.” Nikita answered after a moment. During that time, he’d still been pursuing revenge against his family’s direct attackers. Unfortunately, not long after that, the spider tendrils of the web had faded. It was as if some god had wiped away the trail.

Another few breaths of toxic smoke calm the pacing beast in his mind. It helps obfuscate the pain that lurks just beneath the surface. Nikita’s brow rose as the cavern echoes with the call of a spectral, ghoulish voice. What theatrics. A nicotine-stained sigh pushes its way from dry lips. If unnerved by the words, the elder man did not show it. “I did.” He has dealt with many phantoms and rarely found their nonsense worth the ectoplasm it was printed on. “It was rather hard to miss.”

Judging by his reaction, it seems Josh is familiar with the title—likely the envoy himself. The detective does wonder, however, what precisely they are meant to deliver them from. “It is rude to keep our guests waiting.” The older man begins picking his way down the soft, squishy cliffside. As they reach the bottom, Nikita pauses. Stormy eyes narrow as he picks out strange shapes in the heated, humid air.

Is that a Buzzwole sticking from the ground?

He nudges a rock ahead of him and finds his suspicions confirmed. What seems to be solid ground is in fact acidic. “Lovely.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Josh Devlin

[attr="class","nikita"]The black haired man listens as the ‘victim’ weaves his tale. “A likely story.” It was one that had erupted often over the past few weeks. Many impatient people prowled the exterior of the barricade, peering through League officials like a tiger between bars. A few swipes of his phone revealed the young lady in question was on the list of the missing. Her fate was listed as UNKNOWN in capital letters.

A hand lifts briefly to his ear as if to adjust a stray strand of hair. In reality, he’s listening to his Houndstone’s clattering. Morse code could be quite intelligible with rattling bones. “That’s typically what happens when one wanders into a war zone.” A skeletal, gaunt hand finally raises to his lizard. With a nod, the water type lowers its fingers. This idiot—no matter what he was planning—was no threat to him. He does not think the stolen Pokemon are of a caliber that can help him.

“Show me where the attack happened.” As they walk, Nikita lights up a cigarette. His fingers are stained yellow from repeated use.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Andrew Fisher

[attr="class","nikita"]The Intelleon stares imperiously down at Alison. In those pale yellow eyes, there’s murder and a hunger for violence. The finger remains raised—a warning to stay where she is. But there is no happiness either. She had not meant to actively strike the young woman. And Anne is a perfectionist. Knowing she is aware of the gaffe, Nikita does not mention it. The water-type would be far harder on herself than a barbed message.

Nikita stares at the girl for a moment. His eyes scan her detachedly. He notes the way she stands and the way the clothes fall around her. There’s also notes taken on things like the state of her hands, the shape of her nose, and marks on her skin. All a dozen little physical things that can tell you a lot about a person. “I warned you.” The detective finally replies. Yellow stained fingers shift as he takes another deep breath of toxic smoke.

His next words are icy. The man and his Intelleon share many things in common. Perfectionism and a hatred of Rockets bind them. “You would know if I attacked you.” At his feet, his Houndstone claps his bony jaws together.

Nikita sighs. He knocks ash into the underbrush. He can see (and hear) the young woman is nervous. Her arrest would not contribute to his overall mission. Stormy eyes slide back toward where she hailed from. “I would not push the matter if I were you.”

And what have you got, at the end of the day?
What have you got to take away?
A bottle of whisky and a new set of lies
Blinds on the windows and a pain behind the eyes

Anne shifts on her branch. Her neck lifts to reveal a nasty scar across her throat. “My friend rarely misses twice.”

20 mp for posts
150 MP for faction conflict
50 MP have your character's Pokemon symbolize or represent in some way, the condition of your character.


220 MP

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Alison Everly

[attr="class","nikita"]Forcing his broken jaw shut was an exercise in will. And the shadows weren’t exactly fine dining. They stuck to his mouth like taffy and made it hard to pull away. The lithe fox turns on him like an irritated snake. Though his rocky hide should break its teeth, its ability allows it to punch through the slush and snow to the meat beneath. “GRRRRWWWWR!”

The Glalie rotated at high speed, attempting to throw off the unwanted passenger. Nikita—though empathetic to his friend—saw a way to take advantage. His voice is measured but harsh. But its authority snaps the flailing ice-type from its shock. “Sheer Cold!” The very heart of winter burst forth from Ignatius as it sought to trap the shadows in a crystalline, icy prison.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Makoto Kurumi

[attr="class","nikita"]After his fight with Makoto, Nikita headed to his meeting. What followed was a relatively dull affair. His higher-ups asked him to summarize his investigations inside Petalburg. He simply repeated what he’d written in the reports. Then, he;d been dismissed with another list of names to find and investigate.

It was on his way back home that he spotted the young woman. The dark-haired man drew back inside the brush as he watched Alison push toward League territory. Sharp, hawkish eyes inspected the way she came. It seemed to indicate she’d come from Petalburg. The body language indicated nerves. If it were someone on his side, crossing that boundary would likely lead to a sense of relief.

It appears we have a runaway. The man and his hound share a brief glance.

Gray eyes flicked up the invisible Intelleon above him. While he could not see Anne, the lizard’s rage was almost palpable. A gaunt finger gestured at a path diagonal to where the likely Rocket ran. Branches bowed briefly as the water type leaped through the canopy. As her path brought her ahead of the young lady, she fired a single, deadly burst of water at the young woman’s feet.

“I believe that is far enough.” Nikita pushed his way through the underbrush. The famous detective’s eyes narrow as he lights his cigarette. "Stop for inspection."

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Alison Everly

[attr="class","nikita"]The young lady’s exclamation drew a sign. “He never said that.” Nikita’s correction sounds wan and tired, as if he’s made it a hundred times before. Which, unfortunately, he has. Everyone thought they were so clever when they quoted Doyle. Unfortunately, most of what he heard were bastardized quotes from movies or book reviews.

Gray eyes watch as she pulls out the tablet. A sigh bubbles from his throat—easily construed as a distaste for technology. He takes note of the odd assortment of stickers. The macabre clash with the frill of flowers and adorable drawings of Pokemon. It fits the discordant nature of the want-to-be investigator in front of him. Still, he does not interrupt as the girl continues. His glasses shine in the light of the tablet as it's turned toward him.

His gaze shifts from camera to camera. For a moment, he merely takes in the information. Though he notably twitches each time one of her letters falls into the abyss. The lack of enunciation. “It is certainly a resource.” The man’s laugh sounds strained, like a badly tuned guitar. It is not something he does often. He pulls out his own form which shows a similar feed. “Unfortunately, you missed two cameras.”

The two at the back door were tucked beneath the eaves. Certainly easy for a Pokemon to miss.

“But there’s no need for subterfuge, Miss.” This feed wasn’t something he acquired from outside however. “Please humor me.” There was a reason for the prosthetics and out-of-place clothes.A skeletal hand moves to grab the young lady’s shoulder as he guides her toward the front door. Suddenly, his entire demeanor changes. Suddenly, that aristocratic coldness is replaced with a gruff, thuggish baritone.

“‘Ey, Jerry.” One of the workers outside perks up, a joint sits balanced between his fingers. There’s a brief moment of recognition. “Lookit dis lil mouse I found sneakin’ bout.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] MAISIE MAUDLIN

[attr="class","nikita"]“I do not think that likely.” Nikita murmurs detachedly. “In thirty years, this is the first killer who peddles in fairy tales.” There’s a disdainful little sniff at the last two words. As if the idea of children’s stories are beneath him. As if it’d not been six years ago when he mumbled his way through Goldilocks and the Three Bears to his youngest son.

“And no one sees me for pleasure.” People who came to him—in most cases—were having a very bad time.

The woman’s next words earn a nod. “In most cases, yes.”

An uncharacteristic burst of profanity erupts as a Wingull divebombs him. "GUGUGUGUGULLLLLL!" Its beak grabs at his ponytail, jerking his head painfully back. All around the square, similar horrors erupt. His arms bat at the angry bird Pokemon with force. It darts away with a string of black hair in its mouth. Grabbing his laptop bag, he smacks away the Cramorant trying to get at Morrigan’s eyes.

Across the square, Winters is fighting his own battle. The smoothes he grabbed are now coloring his bleached bones orange.

“It seems story time will have to wait.” Then, he’s fighting off the hungry, desperate birds around him. Finally, after a bird tears a hole in his button-up, he manages to get ahold of another Pokeball.

From it, a bright green Kleavor emerges. A swing of its stone axes sends the birds around his trainer crashing to the ground.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Morrighan Cahill

[attr="class","nikita"]Nikita was not sure if he should be insulted or flattered. Another suspect in one of his cases had fled into Eternatus’s bowels to escape him. It made him wonder if his breath stank.

While he preferred to work alone, one of the champion’s had also been journeying to this twisted, Eldritch realm. So, with some reluctance, he’d agreed to make the journey together. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the boy who enjoyed games of pretend and obsessed over dead gods.

The one he’d met dressed in fake armor at that god awful renaissance fair.

Now, he stood at the top of a familiar precipice. The ground beneath their feet is oddly soft. Above them, sharp eyes catch pulsating in te walls. It’s as if the very air thrums with the monster’s heart beat.

At Nikita’s heels, a familiar Houndstone strolls. The pair move in concert as if one organism. Though words rarely pass between them, there is obviously some kind of communication. Nikita lifts a cigarette to his mouth and inhales deeply. He was as gaunt and unhealthy as the last time Josh saw him.

“Can you smell anything?” He asked of the Houndstone beside him. If the dog had brows, they’d have been raised. There was too much to smell in a place like this.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Josh Devlin

[attr="class","nikita"]Forcing his broken jaw shut was an exercise in will. And the shadows weren’t exactly fine dining. They stuck to his mouth like taffy and made it hard to pull away. The lithe fox turns on him like an irritated snake. Though his rocky hide should break its teeth, its ability allows it to punch through the slush and snow to the meat beneath. “GRRRRWWWWR!”

The Glalie rotated at high speed, attempting to throw off the unwanted passenger. Nikita—though empathetic to his friend—saw a way to take advantage. His voice is measured but harsh. But its authority snaps the flailing ice-type from its shock. “Sheer Cold!” The very heart of winter burst forth from Ignatius as it sought to trap the shadows in a crystalline, icy prison.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Makoto Kurumi

[attr="class","nikita"]As Andrew rushed forward, Nikita stepped back. A hand rose as if to ward off the man’s stench failure. A brow rose as words spilled from Andrew’s mouth. He listened to the man’s raving. But, if Andrew expected him to be moved, he would be disappointed. The detective sniffed. “How…distressing.” Sob stories were ineffective against the wizened man.

Notably, he did call off the Intelleon. The blue lizard flickered into existence a few trees away. As always, she is creepily silent. Anyattempts at self-expression torn away by the Rocket who slit her throat. She is not happy about being called of. Bright golden eyes leer down at Andrew. If he steps wrongly, she is happy to put a spear of water through his head.

Keen eyes surveyed the man. They took note of the bruises on his body. A few of them bore the outlines of boot marks. Others were shaped like fingers. “Care to tell me why you were in a warzone?” The last word dangled in the air between them. A brow rose as he waited for this so-called victim to introduce himself. Gray eyes flicked up and down the path as if looking for the attackers.

The hand behind is back gestures the way Andrew had barrelled in. Silently, the Houndstone disappeared from view.

“Tell me what you remember.” In reality, he just needed time. But this ‘civilian’ seemed excited to talk.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Andrew Fisher

[attr="class","nikita"]The waltz between Nikita and his Walking Wake ended suddenly. Its fiery red eyes shifted away from him. But any relief would be short-lived. It wsa not because it had discovered peace but because it had discovered something else to fight against. It began with the scent of lizard upon the air. “Mrrrgh?” Its nostrils flared as the mane around its neck rose in angry waves.

The dragon’s head jerked up as a shadow fell overhead. The Walking Wake growls. Nikita does not need his superham sleuthing skills to know what happens next. “Winters!” But even the ghoulish hound’s Disable isn’t fast enough. The detective’s yellow-stained hands fail to return the beast in time.

A geyser of superheated water erupts from its maw, aiming to knock the Charizard from the sky. The dragon vanishes in a burst of red light just as the attack reaches its target. No thoughts are spared to the Gallade or Hitmonlee on the clearing’s outskirts.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] ghost fireheart

[attr="class","nikita"]The chaos had siphoned much of his work away. HBIC was out here trying to suss out who had been brought to Kanto. They were also working to identify those missing and weapon stores. Deigned more intelligence worker than combatant, Nikita spent little time in Petalburg itself. Which suited him fine. If he were to infiltrate the place, it would be without his hands bound in red tape.

Currently, he was moving from one meeting to another (even more redundant) one. This meant taking a short detour on the route itself. Though often invisible, his Houndstone could be seen at his heels. The dog lifted its head. Nikita’s eyes followed. A few seconds later, some idiot blundered through the brush. “Hm.”

Nikita was not an empathetic man. Some people called him heartless. He simply thought of it as being controlled. Before his wife’s death, she had provided the softness his reputation needed. But those icy edges were no longer filed away. Just like these disgusting terrorists, he wore a mask. One built of logic instead of cheap paper mache.

The detective stared at Andrew for a moment. Instead of rushing forward, the man sighed. His grey eyes drifted to Winters. The hound shook its head; the noise made a clattering like a bone xylophone. I see.

A hand lifted to pinch his nose. “Anne.” The grunt’s progress would be interrupted by a high-powered burst of water. It dug deep into the route’s dirt.

Keen eyes scanned the young man’s body. A cigarette leapt into the man’s hands. He seemed almost bored. “And what, pray tell, do you need help with?”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Makoto Kurumi

[attr="class","nikita"]After Petalburg’s collapse, much of HBIC was pushed to the frontlines. They were on the hunt for missing people and ways to stop the Rocket advance. Unfortunately—with such pressing concerns—the detective’s cases shrank to a crawl. Wartime panic also impacted his agency. With thousands missing, missing jewels and cl

Fortunately, the battlefield offered plenty of infiltration opportunities. Kanto and Hoenn Rockets were mostly strangers to one another. They were also vying for control of the spoils. A tension made more palpable by the presence of Ulysses Monroe. With many imported forces dead or missing, it’d been easy to disguise himself as one. In doing so, he’d managed to get ample intelligence. As Makoto pushed forward, Nikita was busy organizing his thoughts.

The virtual keyboard clicked with each tap of his skeletal fingers. Gray eyes were fixated on the screen.

“What is it Winters?” The ghost hound made no sound or indication of his presence. And, yet, Nikita knew he was there. Popping into corporeality, the dog grabbed a nearby tablet. A few taps of bone bridged the gap.

Nikita’s chest heaved in an exasperated sigh. “Is there no one else?” He was already out of his seat. His dearest friend would not waste their time if some cadet was outside. Pulling off the rest of his prosthetic, the man turned to leave his tent. On a hook outside, he scooped up his belt.

His toss is brusque and straightforward.Similar to a serpent’s strike. The detective’s gaze is full of judgment. “I believe that is far enough.” As his Glalie emerges, a thunderous CRACK echoes through the route. The Mega Glalielite in Nikita’s band glowed with power.

With a ghastly cry, the area around them twisted emerald into white—Snow Scape.

10 MP have your pokemon set weather, terrain, or a magic, trick, or wonder room in your thread.
10 MP mega evolve your own pokemon in your thread.
50 MP describe your character's pokeball throwing style.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Makoto Kurumi