[attr="class","nikita"]The Nihelego’s collapse earns an irritated glance from Nikita’s sapphire eyes. Any thought of returning it is fleeting. It was not as if its presence at his belt would make a difference. As the detective catches the other man’s eyes, his fingers tighten around Winter’s ball. It’s a scratched Great Ball, nothing special. But, in many ways, it is the last sign of his former life.

Nikita is fortunate his attention span is wide. The chaos of this battle is stretching him thin. As the icy explosion fades—leaving a ringing in his ears—he is forced to narrow his eyes into the fog. The crimson seaweed stands out like blood on fallen snow. The susurrus makes him shiver. A savage, territorial beast, the Walking Wake refuses to move from the attack. Fine.

“Ignatius!” The ice-type, brimming with energy, dashes in front of the dinosaur. Its broken jaw is stuffed painfully full as the energy is drained. “Strike.” Its blocky teeth slam shut on the seaweed in an attempt to nail the Dhelmise in place. There’s obvious pain in the ice-type’s gaze as shattered bones grind against one another. But he summons enough strength to summon a Blizzard.

Even the Walking Wake seems cowed by the fury on either side of the chasm. It roars at its contemporaries, the noise tiny among the ”It seems we have an audience.” Their eyes fixate on the shattered crystal above them. Some of them stare at the humans with an indescribable hunger.

As the paradoxes gather, Nikita’s face twists in a sneer. The gun in his hand seems equally as useless against the mob.For a moment, the two men’s minds converge on the same idea: tossing the other to the wolves.

Nikita’s skeletal fingers slip back toward his belt. Before they close, the Paradox Pokemon charged..

[/di



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[attr="class","nikita"]The detective wonders where people get all this air to waste. Why did they have to parrot themselves like that? Did some subset of the population find it charming? “I am sure.” Nikita murmurs in response. Those golden orbs seem unlikely to miss much. They remind him of an alley cat’s eyes in the darkness. “Perhaps say it one more time to make certain.”

A salt-and-pepper brow jerked upward. This place was one of shadows and second-guessing. People could hide themselves quite well. Nikita settles for a incredulous,. “Is that so?” The man seemed unimpressed by the investigator’s ‘mate.’ Its shy nature does not raise its status in his regards. He doubted they were aware of Winters’s presence. Then again, Damian was difficult to ignore, especially with his impractical pince-nez. “Surely nothing escapes his notice.”

One skeletal hand reaches out to return the greeting, His movement is slightly hesitant, mostly because he has no idea where this woman’s been. His grip is light. Again, he finds his face shifting in confusion. “Sir Sokolov?” The last he checked, no one had knighted him. Though, if they had, he would not have actually attended the event. Empty grandstanding was not worth his time.

When his hand came back, it briefly swiped across his pants. They were jeans, something he had not willingly worn in over a decade. “The mausoleum?” What a macabre name. He was not familiar with it.

“That depends on the heads.” There’s a brief pause as he looks her up and down. His Nidoking does the same before turning back to the alley. “I am curious what resources you are referring to.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Typically, smuggling cases were of no interest to him. It was not a crime he particularly cared about. Nor were the methods hard to determine. But this particular criminal employed interesting methodology. There were also signs of Rocket involvement.

Nikita turns to face Maisie. The face she sees looks like a horror movie reboot of the once famous detective. His cheeks are sunken and sallow. The pianist fingers are stained the sickening color of nicotine. In many ways, the Houndstone typically at the man’s side looks more alive. But his gray eyes are still sharp as knives.

The severity of that gaze falls upon her like a guillotine. Smoke furls from his mouth like the exasperation that coats his words. Though part of it is her lack of discretion, he also detests the girl’s way of speaking. He wonders what enunciation had done to her. “Perhaps we shouldn’t announce that to an entire city block.” He is dressed to fit in. His normal posture is different. A fake scar through his lip draws attention.

Beside him, a burly Nidoking stands. The lack of Winters at his side is enough to throw many off his scent. “They are doing nothing.” This investigation—like so many—is his own.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Though he has more bullets, Nikita stops firing. The jellyfish may not be fully cognizant, but it is his Pokemon. It also still has utility, even as a puppet.

Nikita staggers forward as the daggered leaves rip into his skin. Angry lines open across his back and spine. He watches in concern as Winters struggles beneath the beast. His dear friend is struggling. But Nikita forces his attention to divert. Focus on what you need to do.

As super-powered leaves bite into bone, Winters forces himself back to his feet. If he had lungs, he’d be gasping for air. As he gives one last, half-hearted Play Rough, Nikita returns him. The last thing he needs is another Nihilego incident.

If Nikita is disappointed by Cillian’s dodge, his face doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes advantage of the proximity. “Cervantes.” The beast snarls upon hearing its name. Nikita’s order is simple and frank. “Hydro Steam!”

Heated water erupts from the beast’s muzzle as it seeks to capture everything in a superheated mist.

Then, Nikita smirks. “Ignatius. Freeze them.” Ignoring the Corviknight, the Glalie follows up with another Blizzard. And, as he does, the ice in front of them superheats with an audible POP!. It seems the goal is to use H20’s malleability to his advantage.

As its move finishes, the Walking Wake roars.

But, when it echoes back, it’s in far too many voices. It seems their brawl—meant to be a simple arrest—now has an audience. The man turns to see LED lights blink back at him. They are as numerous as Zubat in an aerie. And, on the other side, the Pokemon of pasts to never come.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Nikita was a man of many talents. He studies many subjects in-depth and is often consulted for things outside the crime realm. Things like botany, entomology, and even astronomy have helped in cases. But—though he enjoys learning—he does not do so for its own sake. It is a means to an end. The key for the proverbial lock of a case.

But he despises asking for help. To him, most people are insufferable. They are content to languish in the depths of their own inadequacy for months or years on end. So, it’d taken him a lot to text Morrigan off of the number on her website.

But he had no intention of putting months into the translation and study of fairytales. He could think of a thousand other things he’d like to study. Including how it felt to run his hands across every brand of cheese grater.

When he reaches the fish market, his lips press into a frown. Unfortunately, his years of nicotine reliance haven’t damaged his olfactory nerves. The smell of fish permeates the air. The sky above is filled with the silhouettes of Wingull, Cramorant, and the occasional Mandibuzz.

It’s the woman’s dual-colored hair that catches his eyes first. For a moment, he stands nonchalant at a nearby street corner. He watches her subtly through inscrutable gray eyes. He sends his Houndstone forward to get closer, the ghost type fading out of visibility.

He takes not of her gait, her posture, and her general expression. Nikita watches where her hands touch and the way she touches her phone and body. Most importantly, however, he looks for potential threats—the lump of a hidden gun, the shivering air of a ghost type.

Seeing none of these things, the detective strides forward. “Good afternoon, Miss Cahill.” As always, it sounds the opposite. If there was an antonym next to ‘good afternoon’ in the dictionary, it’d show Nikita. His hound flickers into being beside him. “I am surprised you picked such an…odious place to meet.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","itemcolbkg"]

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[attr="class","nikita"]The detective responds after a brief pause. “Precisely.” But there is a hint of derision in his next words. “But protection does not figure into it.” He was not some child hiding under blankets. He just found reality rarely erred on the side of good fortune.

A chuckle forced itself free. “I believe oxygen would disagree.” People did not attach worth to an invisible particle in the air before they discovered it. Perhaps it could be argued there was a breath of life, but that was simply religious dogma. No doubt some people credited that stuff to little invisible gremlins. Down went Nikita’s head. “On that, we are in sync, but it is not easy to find those shortcuts.” In truth, he enjoyed Yujin’s perspective, so he is not surprised they have things in common.

Opting to stay with his dearest companion for now, Nikita slowly leads them to the door in question. Occasionally, he clings to the wall as shadows pass the office wall. But these people have no idea their sanctuary has been cracked, so they do not look for the fox in the henhouse.

“Here we are.” Nikita gestures Winters inside as they come to a door. It is sturdier than the rest, and it’s newer. Obviously, there was something worth protecting. There’s a code pad on its door handle. But this proves no issue for the spectral hound.

Unfortunately, it wasn't like he could pull the lock. That was not to say this silly little thing was impenetrable. Quite the opposite.

“Miss Ha. I do not suppose you have an ice type handy?” He had left his friend Ignatius at home.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

[attr="class","nikitatag"] Yujin Ha

[attr="class","nikita"]The detective merely listens. But if the young man expects empathy, he will not find any. This is simply testimony for him to dissect. An opportunity to pick apart syllables like a Mandibuzz a Tauros’s corpse.

“That was your first mistake.” Nikita is quick to murmur. There’s a strange, almost nostalgic look in his eyes. “People never truly change.” They act a certain way and scold themselves for instincts, but that base is still the same.

The beast he was now was always there, after all. It was just more prominent. Robin had been the muzzle and leash. Now, those were done.

At the talk of supervised correspondence, the detective sighed. To be so constrained must be maddening. Surprisingly, this boy had not yet snapped. “I would suggest a cipher, but your grandparents do not strike me as codebreakers.” Still, there were the benefits of modern society to consider. What stopped Ever from sending out a text? “And, yet, it is not your father lying to them.” While he was quite aware of the mental gymnastics of abuse, there was no denying Mister Blackwell Junior had his part to play.

Nikita could not resist a laugh. This father was simply a bully, likely no different from the men who beat their wives in trailer parks. It was likely the boy’s mind that lifted him into a god. “That plan was…lacking.” Children, even in this world, were restrained in their rights. They could not just book their own flights without someone being notified. But the young man wasn’t ten anymore. He also didn’t have to busk with death matches

With a nod, Nikita pushed himself from the seat. A ghoulish dog appeared beside him. “Try not to let temporary turn into something else.” He shook his head. He doubted there was much to prepare, but he did not have much faith anything would actually be done. No doubt he would try to take his bed in a carry-on.

People were often their own worst enemies.

Still, what did he have to fear? By all accounts, the child was already in hell.

Dropping a hefty tip on the table, the detective turned to leave. “Your grandparents will be expecting you.”

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

[attr="class","nikita"]Just like that, another combatant has fallen. Nikita nods to his ailing Glalie. Ignatius nods back though there are frozen tears in its eyes. Its jaw is shattered until the transformation ends. But for this temporary pain is enough. Unfortunately, it seems this has wreaked havoc on their battlefield of choice. Ice now coats once-warm rocks.

There’s a nasty, broken stalactite from his earlier actions. Even the ground beneath them is pockmarked like one with leprosy. And there is a clammer as rocks fall off the bridge’s edges. This is amplified as a Poison Jab from the Nihilego almost sends Nikita pitching over the edge. “Nngh.” With a sneer, he fires a bullet at the jellyfish.

It jerks back as strange, purple ooze hisses to the ground. “!?” As Winters turns to his master, the ghost dog is slammed into by the anchor’s Phantom Force. Though it would be an opportune time for a Crunch, all he receives is the ringing of teeth on metal. In a panic, he lashes out with a Play Rough instead. “Hold it.”

Tearing his eyes away from the hound—trusting his partner to do what is necessary—Nikita turns his attention to the Corviknight. Those knife-like feathers are sharp. But he waits. A second and a few more. Hopefully, his timing is correct. “Ignatius! Blizzard!” With a pained noise, the Glalie unleashes a Blizzard upon all in front of it, even the Walking Wake.

The feathers are slowed by the screaming gales. They bury themselves shallowly in the dragon’s hide. It roars as it spits steam into the air around them. The cavern is suddenly muggy.

From Nikita’s pocket, a little laser light emerges. It settles on Cillian’s chest. “Aqua Jet!” With a snarl, the beast turns away from the bird and charges the human with a burst of jet-powered water.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]

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

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[newclass=".pilotsb .mcredits"]position:absolute; text-transform:uppercase; right: 9px; bottom: 28px;[/newclass][newclass=".pilotsb .mcredits a"]font:bold 13px/13px 'Poppins'; text-decoration:none; transition:0.7s all; color:#38383885; [/newclass][newclass=".pilotsb:hover .mcredits a"]opacity:1; transition:0.7s all; color:var(--accent);[/newclass]