[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1013508736091959378/1021169993079074886/Vick.png[/img]
[h3]Vicky[/h3][/center]

Dusk fell slowly over the small port town, the tides receded and the beachgoers and surfers slowly returning to shore. Rather than thinning, the crowds on the boardwalk only grew thicker as the sun fell and the moon rose. Street lamps and store lights kept the pathways lit and the nocturnal Pokemon came out to play. Mostly Glameow at this hour, but Vicky spotted a Hoothoot perched atop one of the taller buildings near the dock. 

Those never usually caused any problems. But where there are Glameow and Hoothoot around, there are also plenty of Rattata. Those little rats never seemed to disappear, no matter how many the cats and owls killed. Vicky had seen enough rat corpses in two years to match the dead during the Kanto-Johto war a few years back. Gruesome stuff, that.

Vicky absently puffed on her cigarette, until she realized it had burnt all the way down to the stub while she was distracted. Annoyed, she stamped the pitiful ember out and tossed the stick into the ash tray. It was about time to be going anyway. The kid would be returning home by now, and Vicky wanted to arrive early and prepare a little ambush.

“One for the road, officer?” the bartender suggested, offering a suggestive smile. It was more of a lemonade stand than an actual bar—the place was set up out in the open with a few bar stools and some small tables where people could sit and smoke in the sun. There were a couple stands like this all over the boardwalk, and Vicky was a regular at most.

“Not tonight, Mason,” Vicky said, draping her coat over one arm and pressing a tip onto the counter. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Will I be seeing you again, Vik?”

“You know the answer to that by now.”

Mason nodded, the smile never leaving his wide face. “Whatever happened to that prodigy you were talking about a few weeks ago? You never did say much about them.”

“You know I can’t talk about work, Mason, stop bugging me about it.”

“I can’t help it,” Mason said with a shrug. “I’m curious. You sent them on a job not too long ago, as I recall. Did everything go well?”

Vicky eyed the bartender.

“I’m only curious.”

“Everything did go well,” Vicky said, lighting another cig and taking a long drag. She stamped the light out and tucked it away for later, then gave Mason her other eye. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me. I’ll see you soon, Mason.”

Vicky turned before the man could ask anything more and strode away from the bar stand, coat tucked under her arm and her white collared shirt partly unbuttoned at the top. Anyone who knew her would recognize her, but no one who saw her would think her anything more than a middle-aged veteran. She wasn’t sloppy, but her coat was definitely well-worn and ‘carefully scruffy.’

As she walked she kept a close eye on the people she passed, though she never gave any outward sign looking. She could see a lot just out of the corners of her eyes, and she saw little of interest tonight. That was good. Despite F.I.L.E. not having as great a presence here these days, the streets were mostly safe. Some alleys could prove more dangerous, but for a port town, there wasn’t much crime here. Petty theft, larceny, the occasional assault. Nothing serious.

Usually.

Two times she passed men wearing heavy overcoats around their shoulders with an image of fangs, almost like a badge of honor, riding their coat sleeves where anyone could see it. Fang was here. And if she saw two, there were more she didn’t see. They liked working from the shadows, but so long as they didn’t do anything in front of her, Vicky couldn’t arrest them. Even though she knew they were trouble.

She moved on. No need to let a potential danger trouble her, when there was a matter far more pressing that needed her attention. She moved past the gang members and finally arrived at an old laundromat. The place was a run down ruin, just barely able to stand anymore, on the outskirts of the slums. The street here was deserted, so Vicky spared no time stepping into the old place.

She was greeted by a familiar smell, and quickly spotted the source. A large pizza box sat on the counter in the back, printed with a tiny Darumaka spinning an enormous pizza in its stubby hands. Vicky smiled to herself as she grabbed the box and carried it up the stairs in the back. She waved her card in front of the scanner to keep the silent alarm from triggering, and moved into the flat above the laundromat.

She’d grab a slice or two and wait for the kid to arrive. She always did after ordering pizza, so it wouldn’t be too long a wait.