With the water in his hands dwindling to droplets, the anxious child reappeared. He stumbled into the surf as he tried to maintain a grip on the ocean in his hands. “Here, Poppa!” The toddler cried as he opened his hands above the laboring Finizen. A mixture of sand and salty water splashed onto Nikita’s knife-hand. A bit of it got in his eyes.



“Nngh.” The former cop paused to rub the muck out of his eyes. His other hand pushed the struggling Finizen down, trying his best to keep it from upsetting the knife. The growl in Nikita’s deadened as he turned to his grandson. Big eyes stared at him, terror and anxiety evident. A sigh shook the man’s frame, resembling a death rattle. “Thank you, Samuel. Would you be a lovely lad and retrieve a bucket?”


Just like some so-called fisherperson and their lures and fishing line. Snnnk! Another layer of netting fell away, revealing an angry wear mark beneath. Though he’d blame it on the sand, he found his eyes shining with tears. When was the last time he’d use this knife—these hands—to help? Even tucking in his grandson was, in some part, a selfish desire. “My apologies for yelling earlier.” Beneath his hands, the Finizen calmed, looking up at him with frightened, pleading eyes.



Another section of net fell to the sand.



The deafening sound of insect wings grew audible behind Nikita. His knife turned sideways as he pulled the weapon away. Bright blue eyes stared suspiciously at the woman—child, practically--and her bug. “I would appreciate help holding it in place.” The man stated calmly. “His thrashing is making this difficult.”



Tiny feet pounded down the sand as the youngest member of Nikita’s party returned. A chipped  bucket was clutched desperately in one hand. “Wow!” Samuel drew short, staring up at the giant bug. “It’s so big! I bet it drank a lot of milk!”



A cough from grandfather drew the child’s gaze. “Sorry! Poppa says it's rude to stare.” With a wave the boy dove back into the water, emerging with a bucket of clear, lukewarm water.

The two companions apparently saw little need for idle chatter. Aside from the occasional instruction—such as a warning about a low branch--Nikita and Winters continued in comfortable silence. Sharp eyes surveyed the path, looking for signs of a struggle or dropped gear. A lighter clicked as the detective lit up.

A bit of white in the undergrowth caught Nikita’s attention. “Hm.” He held up a hand for pause as he knelt in the dirt. A set of pianist’s fingers reached under the bush, emerging with a dirtied sock. “Tch.” Obviously disgusted by it, the detective quickly placed it to the side. Whether the littering or smell of wet feet bothered him more. But the size seemed right and it was something at least.

The Houndstone leaned in to give it a sniff. Briefly, a crimson light showed through strands of scraggly fur. “Hou.” Looked like this belonged to the idiot they were trailing.

Looked like he’d gotten his shoe stuck in the mud from last week’s thunderstorm.

Though their suspicions were confirmed, Nikita made no move to rise. Instead, he peered straight into the murky woods ahead of them. His thin lips pressed into a line. In his years on the force, the human learned to trust the hairs on the back of his neck. The ones that were currently standing at attention. “I take it you are aware of our uninvited guests?” The ghost type’s expression made it clear that he was. “Stone.” A second Pokeball was jerked off of Nikita’s belt. From it, a tall, spindly lizard emerged. Its cool eyes are bisected by a gruesome scar.

“We are being followed.” The Intelleon nodded. Her long fingers tapped at her elbow. This sort of thing was not uncommon. “I need someone to investigate.” Without a noise, the lizard disappeared up a nearby tree. Her skin rippled for a moment before the lithe creature disappeared from sight. Before long, she’d drawn even with the strange human and her pack of, ugh, dogs.
she began preparing a Snipe attack.

Nikita, meanwhile, grateful for a break, settled upon a stump at the edge of the target’s abandoned camp.

A cloud of smoke billowed from his mouth. “I do not appreciate being followed.” He stated plainly.

A mother came to him last week, anxious about her son’s well-being. She claimed the cops didn’t care he’d gone missing. That it wasn’t like him, and that her son would never do this. All things Nikita had—in his days working cold cases and missing persons—had heard a hundred times before. More than likely, an undisclosed argument had sent the teenager running off into the woods.

After a few days of asking around, Nikita had found the beginnings of a trail. Apparently, someone had heard the boy had ran off to Petalburg City. But no one had reported him arriving. A look at his messengers showed he’d been talking with a very attractive young woman. One, unfortunately, seemed more pixel than substance.

The black sedan pulled to a stop on the side of the road. A foot in front of him, a small trail sign marked the beginning of the next route.. The man’s normal button-up was replaced with a windbreaker and a thick t-shirt. Typical loafers were exchanged for a thick pair of hiking boots. Beside his shifting knob, the end of a skull peeked up over the passenger’s seat. “Get up, Winters.” Nikita murmured as he opened his door. “We’re here.”

A craggy brow shifted as the dog stretched from its bed. Its giant, almost-reptilian jaw opened as it grumpily followed its partner from the car. “Do not blame me,” Nikita stated without turning over his shoulder. The empty eye sockets behind him glowed as the human lit up a menthol cigarette. He offered the irritable dog a shirt from an oldies rock band, one that’d belonged to the kid. Winters gave it an irritable sniff. “You asked to come.” Dark eyes scanned the area, noting footprints from a hundred trainers that’d come before.

“Stone.” With the scent detected, the dog moved down the path, the trees around them growing closer. Locking his car, Nikita followed the hound into the woods. Soon enough, the vehicle disappeared from sight.

The green-haired toddler whirled on his foot to look at the walking storm cloud behind him. His lips spread wide, exposing perfectly white teeth. One of his flip-flops had been lost somehow in the journey from the car to the beach. The other—once blue—was the color of wet sand. “Poppa! Look! It's a Barbcoach!” At his feet, a deeply scarred Alolan Vulpix crept towards the glaring fish.

The bright swim trunks were covered in bird Pokemon. The ever-classic Pidgeot beside the dark steel of Corviknight and a drunken flock of squawkabilly. All of them arranged into colorful silhouettes.

“Hmm.” Nikita hummed, only half paying attention. Though his eyes did drift briefly to the streak of white and blue beneath the waves. While the child splashed in the shallows, Nikita treated the water line like it was some sort of booby trap. His loafers skirted the darkened sand, his pacing like a caged panther. “So it seems.” A thin, tight-lipped smile appeared on his face.

.How many times had he put this off? What had it taken for him to finally take Samuel to the beach? And, for such a logical mind, he found explaining why difficult. Perhaps it was how much this accursed place reminded him of happier times. A female version of this mini-me splashing in the shallows. Or, maybe, he just really hated sand. As he turned to consult his companion, the boy’s voice raised in alarm.”AH!” A frightened squeal. ”POPPA! Come quick!”

A few Wingull took off from the area behind the rock.

The gun was out before Nikita even processed it. “Sam!? Stay there.” The worn grip felt familiar in his hand. A darkly comforting weight on his callus fingertips. His dislike of sand and surf was forgotten as he plunged into the waves. “Winters. On my 6.” The dog did as requested, clinging to his partner’s side.

As they circled the rock the toddler had disappeared from, Nikita felt his heart return to his chest. A sense of relief buoyed his limbs, allowing him to notice his now soaked socks. Tch. A young Finizen fought against the remnants of a fishing net on the ground between them. “Ah.” Its fins were hopelessly entangled in the ropes. Sand had irritated its skin. A few red marks showed where the nasty birds had picked at it.

“Poppa, can we help it?” The older man took a moment to respond, recalling how much Sam’s mother adored these sprightly creatures. The gun vanished into its holster, quickly replaced by a deadly blade. “Of course.” As the blade neared the first strand, the dolphin Pokemon began to thrash, its cries echoing up the surrounding beach.

“I am trying to help you, you—” An insult boiled in his mouth as childlike eyes met his own. The Finizen mewled in terror. It was just a babe. “--silly beast.” Big pink eyes slammed shut as the first bit of net fell away.

The boy stepped back from the rock as his grandfather worked. What could he do!? Oh! They needed water right? Sam plunged into the water, returning with a handful of water.

"FIFIFIFIFI!FIN!" The echoes of the water-types distress echoed.

A few weeks of investigation had led the counterterrorism agent here. Which, according to the sign, was ‘Ye Olde Slateport.’ Around him were countless stalls fluttering various pun-inspired names. A hundred people shuffled along the thoroughfare, the costumes as varied as their personalities. Everything was color and fun.

Except for Nikita. He was an ink stain upon the figurative parchment, though he’d donned fitting attire. The cape was black as was the tunic and trousers he wore. Only a splash of purple at his throat and gloves set him apart. Three people told him the ‘Sheriff of Nottingham’ costume was quite spiffy. At his side, a Houndstone walked.

Once upon a time, Nikita would have savored this experience. The gaiety and magic of the occasion would have tickled him in some private place. Hours would have been spent trying to pick out the true motives and occupations behind the doublets and trousers. In these places, the typical human masquerade became layered.

This Nikita did not seem happy to be here. His lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval. He did not understand why people wanted to waste time reliving a time before indoor plumbing. Doubtless, a few of these people would have spent their Renaissance life being burnt at the stake. Still, he did not have time to dwell on that. He had a job to do. Though it wasn’t his preferred way to pass the time.

A young woman believed her girlfriend was cheating on her with a coworker. The past week of investigation had led him here. These two he followed as he curved through the surging crowd, his eyes fixated on the ridiculous hat his target wore. Before long, the woman had paired up with another. A kiss was shared.

“The wonders of young love.” The dark-haired man sighed dryly. Though there was a sense of anger in his voice. Nikita would kill for a chance to cheat on his wife. His phone lifted as he moved to snap a few pictures. It was at that moment that a family danced in front of the camera. While he held a few pictures, he doubted the nostalgic girl who’d seen him would take that as proof.

With a sigh, the hound dove back into the crowd. Before long, he drew up behind his target. He spoke softly, his voice somehow carrying over the crowd. “Is the infidelity to period or are you taking some artistic liberties?”

Unfortunately, as he’d soon realize, the hat he’d been following was not one-of-kind.

x - 20-40 - PI PARTNER - UP TO PLAYER

Nikita would likely employ one other investigator in his firm. While you might expect something out of an old movie--a messy office and wood paneling--Nikita's office is the definition of modern. Nikita is actually extremely good with computers and always went out of his way to stay abreast of industry changes. This person would be hired to help carry weight when he departs for days on end. I'd like if they could help encourage him to do and be better. Personality is up to you, but I'd like someone bubblier to balance. Maybe they can have a kid of their own to hang out with Nikki's son and grandson. Maybe they spend time trying to set him up on dates and getting him to open up about his life.

[/div][/blockquote]

Give him the Alakazam.

At times, his two jobs intersected. This happened to be one such case. A recent uptick in missing Pokemon on this side of town coincided with the recent arrival of a suspected Rocket operative.

The area around them stank of degradation. The dumpsters were overflowing. The people shuffled around like rats—eager to go unseen and unnoticed. Graffiti covered every inch of available space, a welcome break from the dirt everywhere else. Somehow, Nikita looked as if he belonged here. Another poor, money-strapped person waiting for the bus.

A chill ran down the bench. Blue eyes did not lift from the newspaper nor its obituary section. They did not need to. The sensation of an ethereal winter breeze was as familiar as the weight of a gun in his hand or the feeling of his grandson’s downy hair. “Winters.” A crisp, lightly accented voice emerged from behind the paper. Before him, a ghost-type Pokemon flickered into existence. Red eyes peered out through its loose, straggly fur. “I take it we found the place?” An assertive rumble emerged as the man folded his paper with a sigh. “To work, then.”

Nikita pinched his cigarette shut with a wrinkled hand, the sting of fire was almost comforting. A reminder that the world was still a terrible place thought up by some mad God. The butt was tossed into a nearby garbage can. Just because he was a shadowed husk of a man did not mean he would lower himself to littering. “Were there guards?” The bony head before him gave a slow shake. “Ah, likely looking for new test subjects.” The man shook his head. “Parents these days really do not read the right fables.” By the time the fools arrived, Nikita intended to have all their birds in the hand freed to the skies above.

Upon arriving to the backdoor of what’d once been a butcher shop (a fitting front), the man nudged it open with one muscular shoulder. It’d been picked earlier by his current companion. A simple matter for a beast who could walk through walls. Upon entry, the smell of desperation washed over him. The place smelled of urine and piss. Even though the area was insulated, the calls of pain were like spikes through his brain. “Sometimes I wonder if humans should be allowed to advance.” With a click, the agent pulled his gun from his waist.

As he neared the first holding area,a noise caught his attention. Gone were the tired eyes, replaced by something almost eagle-like. A countenance of ice overtook them. “Come out.” Nikita demanded cooly like one would request a burger at a restaurant. “This can be done the easy way or the hard way, and I assure you, it does not matter to me.”

The dog at his side—silent as the grave—had vanished. As his partner jerked the gun to the left, the dog snuck up on this interloper.
Guillermo Marceliño

- sigh -

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X GACHOPON (50 PD)

TOTAL

do come again!

50 PD

[nospaces]



[newclass=.pc] margin: 0 auto; font: 12px Roboto; color: #aaa; line-height: 15px; letter-spacing: .5px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; padding: 10px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.icon] height: 32px; width: 400px; text-align: right; margin-left: 5px; padding-bottom: 15px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.icon img] float: left; [/newclass]
[newclass=.icon h1] display: inline; position: relative; font: 800 22px Poppins; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 30px; margin-right: -3px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]

[newclass=.partytop] background-color: #232323; height: 60px; text-align: center; border-radius: 5px 5px 0px 0px; padding-bottom: 13px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.bag] padding: 20px; border-radius: 0px 0px 5px 5px; background-color: #272727; border: solid 1px #232323; background-image: url(https://image.ibb.co/cpf8Wc/flower_patt.png); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: bottom right; [/newclass]

[newclass=.storage] padding: 5px 20px 20px 20px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; text-align: center; [/newclass]

[newclass=.items] padding: 20px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; margin-top: -10px; text-align: center; [/newclass]
[newclass=.items img] padding-top: 5px; [/newclass]

[newclass=.tradee] margin-top: -5px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; padding-bottom: 20px; padding-left: 10px; text-align: center; [/newclass]

[newclass=.garden] margin-top: -10px; background-color: #232323; border-radius: 5px; border: 1px solid #202020; margin-bottom: 5px; padding: 25px; font: 12px courier new; padding-left: 40px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden img] position: relative; float: right; margin-top: -5px; margin-bottom: 10px; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden h1] font: 800 22px Poppins; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: -15px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -10px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]
[newclass=.garden b] text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1.5px; padding: 5px; color: #d5ad40; [/newclass]

[newclass=.madebywizz] float:right;margin-top:-20px;margin-right:5px;height:12px;width:12px;border-radius:5px;font-size:8px;line-height:12px;text-align:center;padding:1px; [/newclass]