[attr="class","nikita"]The man dances around a pillar as he turns down a nearby tunnel. He turns to grant Ettie his attention for a moment. “As close as we’ve ever been.” He took a deep breath of the cavern air around him. As if his excitement would allow him to smell the demolition expert.

After years of tracking down a phantom, the fool was in his grasp. Now, they just needed to capture him before the man vanished into the ether. “Winters, please block his escape.” Equal parts disturbed and bolstered by his friend’s manic shift in demeanor, the ghoulish canine vanished from view. His body did not care about walls and physical obstacles.

When Nikita and the pack caught up, they would see the perpetrator of the attacks. The area around him is littered with debris. Beneath this scattered stone, strange footprints are visible. If he’d not been seeing red, Nikita might have noticed them—their almost raptor-like contours. Able to test vengeance, Nikita rushes forward across the small gully. His gun jumps into his hands.

The target shifts a box in his hand. A moment of panic follows. “Get back, Ettie.” Nikita shouts at the young woman. Shockwaves fly out as the caved-in wall crumbles. Nikita’s ears ring as he staggers to his knees. But even he can hear the screeching that follows. The dust begins to clear as someone in the cavern screams.

Something bloody and caucasian flies to land at the detective’s feet. The fingers are still wrapped around the bomb’s remote. A noise of surprise echoes as the older man tries to stand upright. His lips are dry, all moisture in his body vanished. When the dust clears, the scene is chaotic.

The explosion has been successful.

But it hadn’t hidden treasure or knowledge. Instead, something big, blue and prehistoric waited on the other side.

"SKREEEE!" Blood still drying on its maw, the Walking Wake turns to face the wild child and her pack. Its shriek is as deafening as the explosion.

ui0T60fJ

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Ettie

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective stared out over the postcard landscape before him, if postcards depicted scenes from Jurassic Park. His last cigarette was sitting unlit between his pale lips. His ghoulish hound—normally as present as his shadow—was nowhere to be seen. From his vantage point, he could see their destination—a Rocket camp surrounded by towering stone pillars.

When he had spotted his partner, the detective’s eyes had flickered with recognition. But that look soon gives way to his typical exhausted exasperation. His greeting is a ghostly sigh. “Good evening, Miss Monroe.” The detective turns back to surveying the camp ahead. The same stones that protect from ground assault provide a perfect vantage point for sniping.

“They are holding a number of hostages ahead.” He looks at the lighter in his hand for a moment before putting it away. This girl has not yet opened her mouth, it was a bit premature to shoot himself up with nicotine. “One of them is of particular importance to me.” An informant he often used for his darker investigations. Apparently, his probing had brought suspicion upon him.

Idiot.

He could not allow Rocket to break the man. It would be dangerous. His involvement with HBIC could not be public knowledge. So, perhaps, it was wrong to call this a rescue mission. “Would you prefer to do this subtly—” It is strange not having Detective Winters beside him. It is like the hole left by a recently extracted tooth.

Still, he and Anne were not far. The former was a blur ascending the central pillar. The Houndstone, meanwhile, was jumping from shadow to shadow in an attempt to better understand the lay of the land. “--or go out in a blaze of impotent glory?” Obviously, he had a preference.

wvsfx4yN

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] PETRA MONROE

[attr="class","nikita"]It does not surprise him that the talk of daycares riles up the wild child. Even most beasts possessed some modicum of respect for young lives. Even he would play hero if a toddler’s life was on the line (albeit reluctantly). Perhaps it was just the perceived potential. That or the fact that young were specifically designed to pull at one’s heartstrings.

Nikita shakes his head. The gesture was one of exasperation. “I am not certain if his actions bother me more or the incompetence that allowed him to do it.” He’d sent a letter to the place ahead of time—a rather polite ploy for a terrorist. But no one there bothered to open the mail. So, a threat just rotted on someone’s desk until it was too late to do anything about it. The fact that only five children died was a miracle. A rather ironic thought to have.

Detective Winters is somewhat relieved when the younger dogs take point. Though he can track, it is difficult. As if he is forcing organs to work that are invisible. Then, there is the fact that all of the crystalline dust keeps getting in his nose. A truly distasteful feeling—one not helped by his utter lack of filter hairs. “Stone.” The ghost-type bows his head in thanks, following behind at a few paces. Click, click, click go his skeletal toes on the ground.

Yellow-stained fingers drop from the wall as Nikita fights back a bitter, revenant chortle. A plan that only half succeeds. “I did not plan to stop.” This place was not a playground, even if it had children. “Mhm.” The detective acknowledges, indulging the girl. That much was apparent. However the lack of blood indicates it had not been very severe.

The walk is quiet as they continue. Occasionally, those same marks appear. Maybe some beast is marking its territory? Suddenly, the earth quakes beneath them an explosion rocks the nearby tunnels. Little shards of crystal fall as Nikita’s eyes narrow. “Haha! This way!” For once, the revenant is surprisingly animated. There’s a glow in his scrutinizing glaze, like a Wendigo who’s a few steps from a meal.

The Nihelego seems perturbed. Occasionally, it stops to brush a rock wall. It then jerks that tentacle back, seemingly irritated by whatever it finds.

jsCmx2Gx

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Ettie

[attr="class","nikita"]“I see.” The detective responds simply. He never quite understood the appeal of gym leaders. Nor did he ever quite understand their place in government. It would be like picking your president based on who excelled in soccer. “I am certain your constituents appreciate your…involvement.” How strange to put such a high-ranking man on the line when there were dozens of idealistic young people willing to do the same.

The compliment received a sigh. Of course, he’d hit the nail on the head. These surface observations were the definition of elementary. It was like complimenting a surgeon on knowing where the heart was. The laughter did not help. For some reason, the noise itself grated on his nerves, no matter who it came from. Perhaps it was simply a manifestation of envy.

At the talk of the limelight, Nikita finished his cigarette. Smoke followed his exhale as he dropped it to the ground. The loafer ground it out, a scorch mark showing this was a common habit. “Please feel free.” The more noise his partners made, the easier it was for Nikita to get actual work done.

A salt and pepper brow rose at the ‘order’. You assume I need your permission. After a rebellious pause, he moved down the path beneath them. His chuckle is dark, more like a memory of laughter than the real thing. “She is getting in a better position.” As he pushed through a narrow tunnel, the detective took a steadying breath. When they emerged on the other side, they faced a cloud of cotton candy gas. “I would suggest we try to collapse the source.” Something in the cloud cackled.

Just out of sight, a metallic creature clinked.

Their shadows danced ominously as they reached the barrier. Nikita slipped a gas mask over his face. He offered one to Lam. Somewhere above them, a sniper bullet of water punched into the cloud. "There she is." He saluted the darkness above them. “Be careful.”

tBWyUPiV

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] lam logan

[attr="class","nikita"]This man reminded Nikita of a parrot. Perhaps it is the open way he presents himself or the way he speaks. But it grates on his nerves. Almost as if he is a vampire and optimism akin to holy water. Perhaps some small part of him is jealous.

As the flames grew higher, they glimmered off Nikita’s glasses. It lent his gaze an almost hellish glow. “That rather defeats the point of subtlety, Mister Maher.” His tone is chiding as if he is a teacher answering a student’s stupid inquiry. He intends to be in the heart of the fortification before unleashing a plan. “Do hold a moment.” With only the flames and shouts of worry to punctuate the place’s eerie silence, Nikita steps into the camp proper.

The Houndstone flows from his hiding spot into the shadow of the first grunt on the scene. The man stiffens like a board as something oozes through his body. Ghoulish energy wraps around his mind as his hand fumbles for his gun. “Oh, god! Do you see that!?” A bullet flies into the crowd, slamming into someone’s shoulder. After not having facial muscles for years, it’s hard for him to mimic a look of fear.

“Help me find the scientists.” A smile appears as he notices a wire buried in the dirt, they all seem to be heading to the same place. As the noise from the firing site catches his attention, the detective blusters into a thick, fresh spider web. “Tch.” He unleashes a noise of disgust as he starts picking the strands from his suit.

Then, he spots a shadow shifting across the rows of tents in front of him. His lips press into an even thinner line if such were possible. “It appears your time has come.”

2|JqAj9b

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","nikita"]If he did not prefer long sleeves, Ettie would have been able to see the mark of his last failed hunt. A strangely pale forearm that was obviously half a shade brighter than everything around it. The discoloration came courtesy of a recently removed cast.

“Eventually, your luck will run out.” This statement is a matter of fact. Though cold, he is surprised to find his words come from a shriveled bit of concern. For all her faults, the wild child possesses a bright soul.

But, he realizes, her risk-taking is merely part of who she is. Lycanroc do not understand fences. Property is a manmade concept.In the wilderness, territory is claimed by might—not paperwork. He shook his head, though her next statement was hard to disagree with. “Numbers are not always the solution.” Sometimes it was better to work alone, especially when you needed to be subtle. As he continues forward, the man turns to face Ettie. A salt-and-pepper brow goes up. “Do you?”

A pause follows as Nikita contemplates their surroundings. His lips press into a thin line, taking in their environment for the first time. His mind had been elsewhere up until this point. “It is certainly less alien.” But as his eyes move to survey the area, he cannot help but feel a sense of foreboding. “But such proclamations may be premature.” Still, it is a relief to be somewhere with gravity.

Normally tight-lipped about cases, Nikita is surprised by his willingness to speak. “His name is Karl Hemmings. He has been tied to numerous bombings, including one that destroyed a daycare.” An intimidation tactic gone too far. While he wished to remind Ettie that he worked alone, Nikita knew doing so would be useless. Short of violence, he could not stop her from following. “He has been in hiding for some time.”

“He was spotted clearing a tunnel due north.” Nikita watches as the two Mightyena take point. His eyes catch on a nearby stone. His lips press into a tinner line as he lies his hand upon the gashes—the strike melted the stone. It was still warm. As he abandoned the rock, the Nihilego drifted over to it, stroking the cold surface like a puppy.

"We've been following the scent of his Stuntank." Which, even for an undead hound, was a relatively easy feat.

ALTyBtWl

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Ettie

[attr="class","nikita"]Detective Winters turned his head toward the area Lucretia had departed. If he’d had muscles and lips to express it, the dour hound would have smiled. It was nice to see Master Samuel with someone to talk to. While he and Barbara provided companionship, it was no substitute for adolescent interaction. And, unfortunately, Nikita was too paranoid—and irritable—to allow strange children into his home. Hopefully, the old curmudgeon remembers he is a father first.

Then again, he often forgot that when his heart had not been a shriveled-up husk. So, the chances of him miraculously remembering now were slim. Still, there was a job to be done here. Not for the clients, of course, but for the girl who they wanted in their grasps. Leaping nimbly from shadow to shadow, the Houndstone picked his way toward Lucretia’s little hideaway. Occasionally, his snout would lift as he tried to decipher directions.

He saw that, the little pause as if the pretty girl had seen a cockroach. The little nose wrinkled as she caught sight of what lay beneath. In truth, however, he’d have seen it even if it wasn’t there. “O-oh, that’s fine! It’s comfy over here. Thank you.” There was now a hint of melancholy to his words. Tiny feet tangling together like the tines of a snake’s tongue.

Fortunately, the talk turned to his grandfather. Who, for all of his problems, was Samuel’s hero. He grew up listening to Barbara weave the stories and had cut his teeth trying to wade through Grandpa’s books. He’d pried about old newspaper clippings, hungry for any taste of the family that no longer existed. “Yeah!” The boy chirped up. Though, he didn’t know if that’s what he did anymore. Grandpa never talked about his work. “He used to be super famous!”

A noise emerged from behind the newspaper. “Tch.” While he didn’t go around helping royal families any longer he was still well-known. The next time the detective turned the page it was with a jerk.

When Lucretia didn’t run away, Sammy relaxed somewhat. If this was an anime, his eyes would have filled with stars. “Do they really!? I bet it’s super cool. Blizz hates cars and stuff, though. He says they’re too loud.” The answer drew a bobble-headed series of nods. “Okay, Lucia! That’s what I’ll call you!” It was a really pretty name. On a grandma, anyway.


The next inquiry made him sit up straighter. His eyes filled with pride. “Yeah! That’s Blizz! We’re going to kick the world’s butt someday!” The fox yawned and turned the other way. “Do you gotta—” Samuel could feel his grandfather’s eyes lift above the paper, a hungry Arcanine ready to pounce on his poor grammar. “--do you have Pokemon too?” A pleased grunt followed as Nikita returned to pretending to read his paper.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Lucia Aldrete

[attr="class","nikita"]Nikita did not turn away from the bruises. Instead, his eyes fixated upon them. While others found staring rude, the detective thought it informative. A simple glance could tell you a lot about a person. Not just elementary stuff like their age but also their sense of self-esteem, level of honesty, occupation, and marital status. Many people were too amused by his deduction nonsense to remember that he’d been staring.

Which, unfortunately, was a habit he could not discard at this point. For him, these introspections came as naturally as breathing. So, the bruise.was quickly caught and analyzed. Hm. The detective sipped from his now warm, black coffee. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I believe you have our roles reversed, Mister Ever.” While he normally kept his clients confidential, he saw no reason to do so now. It was not as if the elderly couple were about to drag the man to prison. “I was sent here by your grandparents.”

His laptop shut with a quiet little click. A glance at it would reveal graphic images about a rare and once popular poison that’d recently cropped up in another case. Loafers clacking across the floor of the battle cafe, the detective sat directly across from the younger man.

Though he’d attempted to hide his injuries, there were signs. The most obvious is the mark down the side of his face. Again, he takes a long draft from his coffee. When he speaks, it is at a normal volume—as if they are discussing the weather and not a man with heavy hands. "If you are trying to hide injuries, I find concealer does wonders.” He shook his head, the growing ponytail shifting from one shoulder to another. “Perhaps you can try dodging Daddy’s fists next time?”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] ever blackwell

[attr="class","nikita"]Even a verbal spar would be a welcome respite from this hell. Already, the incessant beeping was grinding on his nerves, reminding him of the heartbeat of an enemy that just would not die. The open-ended protest was greeted almost hungrily by those tired eyes. Unfortunately, it seemed Mister Wynter’s brain had taken the majority of the bloes. So, that statement merely hung in the air between them like a dangling modifier for some time. Well, there we go.

At the toddler’s protest, Nikita felt his normally stoic cheeks redden. Had he truly been out so long? His mind turns not to thoughts of mortality but to the things he’d left undone. The Rocket whose base he was meant to infiltrate and the meeting he’d planned with his dealer. A hand rose to idly scratch at a pockmarked arm. “Well, I am certain there is homework and such to be done.” A fact that Nikita did not know for sure. “Something more useful than caterwauling at my bedside.” Such things were always Robin’s territory. He saw the children off to school but did not pester them about their work, merely trusted it would be done.

The talk of parents made Nikita shift in his bed. His own mother and father were still alive, albeit in a far-off region. The latter a gangster of no small means and the former a doctor of English turned teacher. Though cordial in their interactions, the trio did not see eye-to-eye on many things. Still, there was love there. But he did not remember ever feeling worried for them as Samuel now was. “His worry is unnecessary, I assure you.” If losing his entire world and being left with this consolation prize had not done it then gravity did not stand a chance.

At the talk of the island, Nikita sighed. He could feel Samuel straighten as if a bug whose antenna had detected a vibration. “What island? Grandpa said he was at work I thought he’d slipped in a bathtub or something!!” Those big eyes were pools of endless curiosity. A void just waiting to be fed whatever tidbits Kazimir chose to reveal. “Uh—” Sam’s eyes widen as Kazimir’s monster hand locks around his grandpa’s shoulder.

With a noise of irritation, Nikita slaps it aside. He does not enjoy being touched. Especially not by some meat-handed vigilante intent on lecturing him about things he knew nothing about. There would be no taking it easy. There couldn’t be. The question hung in the air between them. The truth jumped to his mind unbidden: I would have to think. Certainly, he does that all the time—it is part of the job. But in this silence, well, the void stares back. All of the things he’s built a wall against threaten to encroach upon it, like a tide shattering a dam.

His fingers twitch for something to shift his focus. Already, he can feel it prowling the recesses of his mind. All of the failures and the feel of crisp flesh beneath his nails. How ironically similar a burnt human body smells to a barbeque. The steady beat of his son and grandson’s heart monitors beside an all-too-empty chair.

“People die, Mister Wynters.” Or, worse yet, don’t.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"]

@kodiak

[attr="class","nikita"]The man watched the rippling of shadows that marked Winters’s path. Only after losing sight of him did Nikita turn his full attention upon Cian. “Good evening, Mister Maher,” Nikita murmured robotically, his voice lacking any hint of positive emotions. Scrutinizing eyes stared at Cian as if dissecting him. The tired gaze flicked from the blonde’s face before fixating on his hands. “Hm.” Seemingly concluding his analysis, the detective turned back to their target

“There are six guards outside,” Nikita observed coolly as he approached the edge of the overhand. “They appear to be guarding a pair of scientists. I will focus on them.” Though likely not a physical danger, they posed the largest threat to Hoenn. One breakthrough in this cavern could level an entire city. The very ground beneath them could become a ticking timebomb. Violent grunts were much less detrimental, merely annoying.

In the farthest corner of the camp, a bright purple flame flared. It began to gnaw at a section of discarded canvas. Soon, that ember swelled into a mess of smoke and hungry fire. Whatever had set it was invisible. They could briefly be seen in the shadows cast by the arson. Then, it was gone. After a moment, someone shouted below. Two grunts rushed toward the attack site, leaving a section of the camp unguarded.

Satisfied the diversion was successful, Nikita stepped onto the steep zigzag path before him. “Let’s go.”

cYVkrxw9

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] CIAN MAHER

[attr="class","nikita"]Nikita’s eyes flicked briefly to the Intelleon above them. He offered a single nod. With notable reluctance, the chameleon allowed her hand to drop. Instead, she allowed her yellow eyes to pierce the gym leader. No sound emerged as Anne tore her eyes from him and his bird. Now, that same gaze dropped to the landscape below them. Let him handle the surfer boy. She thought to herself as her twitchy fingers sought out a threat.

The cigarette did not seem to calm him. In truth, Nikita believed they had long passed the point where nicotine did anything at all. His other, harder indulgences barely quelled them these days. Then again, that was because this issue was a psychological one—a deep-seated urge for revenge. One only exacerbated by that dream. A long draft served as the detective’s initial greeting. “You are correct, Mister Logan.” He inclined his head slightly.

“A briefing, hm? How astute.” Telling children of risks as if they were on a luxury airline and not literally marching into a warzone. He preferred to read up on and research things in his own time. At least he would not be drowned in calls for false patriotism and all that other nonsense. Once upon a time, the detective might have taken pleasure in the deduction session to follow. Some small part of him enjoyed the look of shock and awe that followed. Now, however, he seemed almost bored. Like a senior dancing bear tired of the ball.

“Your hair and clothing indicate that you are an easygoing man. Something further amplified by the state of your hair and clothes.” The ashes were reaching his fingertips now as he allowed his gaze to sweep out toward the chasm awaiting them. “I can tell some things by your posture and hands as well, but those are unimportant.” To be fair, most things in life were decisively so. “The fact that you are at this battlefield tells me you are likely here out of a feeling of moral obligation—” A dangerous, nasty pull he tried his best to ignore.

A pile of ashes dropped to the ground at his feet, whisked away by the breeze. “Which indicates you will not mind heroics.” When Nikita turned to look at the other man, the Intelleon was noticeably absent. The detective checked his gun, ensuring it was both loaded and primed. “Let us be on our way.”

BJJKOVi3

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] lam logan

[attr="class","nikita"]The ghost dog leaned into Ettie’s masterful touch. Years of being part of a pack gave her an almost mythical ability to find the spot. Her words washed over him with some amusement. He did not need to turn to know the expression on his trainer’s face. Winters’s initial response came by way of a nod. “Stone.” Judging by the wag of his bony tail, he shared much of the young woman’s joy. Sokolov was not known for his displays of affection.

Nikita did not change his expression. It seemed too much effort to feign excitement when her irregular grammar would merely crush it. “A pleasure, truly.” The detective responded drily. His hands longed for another cigarette. Just how many hounds had this child acquired? "I would request introductions, but I doubt we have time." The Nihelego turned vaguely in the girl’s direction as red eyes drifted up its form. Seemingly uninterested, it drifted toward a nearby outcropping of crystals. Like a child investigating a thorn for the first time, it stretched a tendril toward the violet point.

A sigh forced its way out as the girl continued chattering. A hand lifts to pinch his nose. Since when did the child carry a sword? What fools had been unobservant enough to miss an entire animal shelter of explorers. “That only makes it more dangerous.” The dark-haired man turned to face her. Seeing her framed against the lush greenery, he cannot ignore the truth of her words. This seems a better fit for her than civilization “It is not a playground, Ettie.”

But he is also not her guardian or her babysitter. The question draws a moment of quiet introspection. “I am…hunting.” He pushes himself forward into the curving tunnels. “A discovery of this magnitude tends to summon maggots.”


RVQ_c_fN

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Ettie

[attr="class","nikita"]Another cigarette sat between his lips. A quick check of his box revealed his supply had dwindled to two. In response, he took an even longer draft, the cigarette quickly dwindling from paper white to headed ash. Like a cantankerous old dragon, he allowed the acrid smoke to flow from his nose. Next to him, his Houndstone let out a huff. “You do not have lungs to ruin, Winters,” Nikita responded with a hint of irritation. “Allow an old man his vices.” Which, in his case, were multiple and plural.

From his vantage point, Nikita could see a bank of swirling violet smoke. Occasionally, a tendril would burst from it, bringing to mind the mad girl who’d almost obliterated a camp on the island. “Tch.” A yellowed finger gently caressed the top of his cigarette box. It was made of a cool, blemish-free plastic. Then, he felt the Intelleon behind him stiffen. In a fluid movement, the lizard flickered back into visibility. Her twin fingers pointed at the intruder with a sniper’s assurance.

With a sigh, Nikita tucked his box back into his dress shirt’s pocket. With that done, he turned toward the approaching man. “I am sure I do not need to tell you this is dangerous.” Unfortunately, the mist prevented Detective Winters from merely teleporting them across. “For men like you, that is likely preferred.” Still, he was no different. He just didn’t do this out of a misplaced sense of heroism or care. His heart was a shrunken, long-dead raisin of a thing.

One of his targets—a long under-the-radar bomber—had been sighted just across the way.

YBFHMpuZ

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] lam logan