It would be awesome... if we could disclaimer!

Aquila had woken up in his arms that day and had pulled herself off as quietly as possible, embarrassed that she had falling into the position at all. She had watched him roll over for missing warmth with a grunt and a sigh, hugging his thin frame as he did so. The sun had stayed a metre or so away from the couch and she had evaded it to get to her room, still immensely tired. Her Pokemon followed her, knowing if they didn't, they would be locked out with her partner until she finally met life face-first. Lairon sat beside her bed, hunkered down to the carpet. Haunter found himself in the far corner and Golbat hung off a hook in the ceiling.

It had taken a month for Petrel to stop being so concerned about her mental health and she had to take care not to go crazy. Still, on the last day of her work week she had begun to take Lance with her on missions where she had more control, and they would often find themselves knee-deep in corpses stained with the telltale marks of hunting knife and scalpel. Over time she had found her favourite weapon turning from her pistol to the thin blade. They would finish their nights watching the sun rise while trading a joint back and forth. Lance, she had found, was one of those introspective, chatty types (although the first time they had spent a night like that, he had been a laughing heap of flesh, nearly rolling off the edge of the building). The boy was incredibly shallow, however, but she didn't mind. Their favourite hobbies were the same. Although he was an Agent by the end of the month, they still spent their last workdays together.

That night had become the best night for her. Petrel's overprotective nature had grown to wear on her, but she was glad it was beginning to dawn on him that nothing had changed, she was the same person before the reveal as after it. She was still his literal partner in crime and coworker in the hospital, a girl with a few loose screws, although more of a cannabis and cigarette smoker. The month had dragged on until he realised that her revelation meant more to him than her and Aquila could only think that it had been the longest month in her life. Tension sparked between her and him like it never had before, only being relieved the few nights that Petrel had caught a grunt here and there and coerced them to join him in his bedroom. It didn't bother Aquila, but after the first time, she had lifted a pair of noise-cancellation headphones from Celadon's massive shopping mall.

There had been a weight that was lifted off her when she finally said the word for what had happened to her so long ago, a weight on her shoulder that she was unaware had even been there. It was as if not calling it 'rape' had had that much of an impact on her.

Still, there was something in the air that her purple haired partner had something up his sleeve to make her feel better 'once and for all', as he had tapered off in contact with her except when necessary. It unnerved her to wonder what it could be.

She found out when he explicitly told her, throwing himself down on the sidewalk while she watched her Lairon tear apart a trash bin. The sound of the steel Pokemon eating metal had long since become normal to her and she watched it with mild interest. "So, what're you doing tonight?"

"Ahh, nothing," she said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Smoke curled out of his nose.

"Well, how 'bout you come with me, eh?" He smiled, flicking his cigarette and bringing it to his lips.

"...Where are we going?" Apprehension bled through her voice.

"Remember that mansion on Cinnabar Island we went to... like three weeks ago?" He asked. Of course she did; the mission had been a total joke sent down the grapevine so that they could get out of Giovanni's hair for a couple days on the resort island. Giovanni's anger with them had dissolved over time, but for the following week after the Quick Ball incident, he had sent them on countless joke missions made out for teams of beginning grunts. Cinnabar Island's infamous abandoned mansion was an empty lot, half burned down from a meth lab or a Pokemon or the active volcano around it or something, and the whole mission went like a joke. They had picked up some important files on an experiment that had went down there (an experiment that Petrel was quick to inform her had been all over the news for months when he was thirteen) and had gotten out of there with him snagging, or, rather, befriending a Koffing ("for safe keeping!" he had insisted) and a few more moves learned through their Pokemon. They had treated it as a vacation because it practically was.

"Yes..."

"Well, I got some friends to pull some strings," he stroked his beard, as if in thought, but his face was full of anticipation, "and we pulled our Pokeyen together and got a bunch of planes from Boss and..."

"...And?" she asked after a long pause.

"Well, that's the secret, so will you come with me or not?"

"Only if you tell me," she pressed, hearing her Lairon swallow the last of the trash bin down her metallic throat.

"But Aquila that spoils the fun, just come with me," he said, nudging his elbow into her ribs. She sighed. There was no way she would convince him to tell her, she knew. She pressed anyway.

"Well, I don't like surprises, why don't you just tell me?" She nudged her own elbow into his ribs.

"It's not a surprise," he insisted, looking at her. "C'mon, it'll be fun. Lots of people are comin'. Don't tell me you wanna miss out?"

"Miss out on what?"

"Just come with me and you'll find out." She sighed again, watching her Lairon move towards a car dangerously.

"Oi! Thermite!" The big beast looked at her, blinking slowly. "Get away from that, you fucking beast, you know what I've said about that shit." She grabbed the Pokeball she contained her in normally and Lairon stepped back, walking away from the car finally. She looked back at her partner who was smoking his cigarette and looking at her with excitement in his face. "How the hell am I supposed to reject your offer with a face like that?" He looked so childishly excited.

"You're not supposed to, idiot," he whined. "The point is, you're supposed to want some fun in your life." She didn't have the heart to tell him she was inducing her life with fun, at least, on the one day they weren't partnered. Well, currently. Petrel had become a total drag. "And anyway, this should loosen up..." he looked back at the base, "it'll loosen up everyone." That was true. Life under Giovanni was still hard as he got used to his position as the head of three different places. His time was stretched incredibly thin, but there was a universal weekend off the following weekend. Even the medical wing was going to be cleared out and their Boss had told them that he wouldn't be found in his office at all. It was the perfect weekend to clear out.

"...Sure, I'll go." Petrel flipped backward on the sidewalk after throwing his fist in the air in triumphant success. He jumped to his feet. "Do we need to wear our uniform..?"

"Hell no. Why the fuck would we do that?"

The island was flooded with Rockets, but they weren't there to shoot the place up like they normally would. In fact, the only illegal thing they had done was wire a daisy-chain of generators up to a power line on the edge of the forest, a group of grunts offering up their services as electricians in their time of need.

Well, and plenty of underage drinking. And some drugs. And if they weren't tucked away, definitely noise complaints. But they were far from the tourist parts of Cinnabar and they knew it. Petrel and Aquila stopped when they saw the mansion. Lights were on, the music was loud and Aquila pulled her pack of cigarettes out slowly. She had not signed up for a party. But, she had. Well, time to make the best of it. Her partner's eyes were glowing with excitement as he pulled her forward.

Shockingly enough to her, she had found Petrel, when confronted with exciting things, was quite eccentric in his attire. Clothing she wasn't even aware he owned was worn and he slathered makeup on his face, spending more time in the bathroom than she had. It wasn't until he insisted (and she dubbed it "Petrel's day" when he did) that she let him do her the same. There was no fighting it, he was going to have his way with her that day in the most innocent of ways. She just let him, just as she let him grab her wrist and pull her forward toward the neon lights and music.

It wasn't long before she was loosened up, the effects of cannabis and vodka taking their toll on her mind. Despite a concoction of pure no shame in her mind she couldn't bring herself to go to the dance floor, but Petrel had disappeared into it to find some grunts or something. She wasn't sure. No, she had retreated to a broken mirror, huddled around a group of people who were playing a game of 'what can we do before we howl in pain'. Her comrades had lost their minds, pulling out teeth with a pair of rusty pliers, sending blood all over the floor (had she been in a better mind she would have dreaded the thought of them coming to the medical wing from a nasty case of mouth tetanus). She, however, was perched on a broken ceramic sink, her eyes concentrated on her lips and a thankfully clean needle, her lower lip outstretched. She was just glad she was seeing straight, even if her mind was in a haze of fearlessness and lack of pain. She ignored the crowd of heads peaking over her shoulder.

In one side, in on the other side. She slid offered, sanitised piercings from the people around her, laughing. "It tickles," she said, giggling and admiring the new piercings in her face. It was a nice change. "They look like... like Sharpedo fangs," she said, grabbing her bottle of vodka and taking a swig. A guy behind her took a piece of ceramic and cut into his wrist, cackling about how he was manlier.

"Bitch I will show you manly," a guy said, grabbing a hammer and smashing it into his kneecap. Aquila winced and cackled at his stupidity as he howled, stumbling back into the bathtub.

"So manly you shriek like a li'l girl!" Someone sang, grabbing the hammer after him and twirling it in their fingers. "Lemme show you manly," they jumped, breaking the wall above him to make tiles fall on his head.

She hopped off the sink, slipping through the crowd of people in the bathroom, their game boring her as people began to copy others, especially as people passed around the pliers, pulling their teeth out. She found Petrel, or, rather, bumped into him sluggishly with a high-pitched giggle. "Look, Petrel," she pointed proudly at her lips. "They're awesome are they?" She couldn't hear the slur in her voice.

"Sexy, sexy," he corrected, his eyes drooping more than usual. She smiled wide at him.

"Reaaally?" He nodded, drinking from a bottle of whiskey. "Swee'heart, stop," he whined, looking at a grunt who grabbed his arm, her body pressed up tightly to him. "Clingy bitch." She pouted and Aquila's smile slid off her face.

"Bitch, he said shtop," she said, pointing her vodka at the girl. Her back was hunched, unlike her usual posture. The girl stuck her tongue out at her and Aquila growled. "Cunt, I will shlaughter you." Petrel didn't have time to react before Aquila swung the bottle, smashing it against her cheek, sending vodka on the three of them. The girl dropped like a rock.

"Holy shit!" he shrieked, grabbing Aquila's shoulder to keep her from lunging. "Woah, woah, sweetheart," he purred, "there's no need for dat."

A crowd was surrounding them now, screeching, "fight! Fight! Fight!" Aquila's breathing was heavy, looking at her prey with a livid expression, akin to a starving Pyroar. She ripped herself from Petrel's grip as the girl stood, swaying. Her vision was red as she tackled the girl, pulling a scalpel out. The girl was unable to prevent what happened, her throat sliced as Aquila's vision returned and Petrel was pulling her away, dragging her past the glass on the floor and through the group that moved to give them a gap. Someone whistled from the crowd. "Petrel's go' him a good one."

Oops.

When she stood she looked at her partner with a sheepish smile, sheathing her scalpel with shaking hands. She had no words. Petrel was a mix of anger and apathy, unable to shake off the weed and alcohol in his system. "Calm down," he said quietly. The music returned around them, the DJ having missed his duties to watch the one-sided fight as well. "People are gonna get-"

"Dooon't care," Aquila said, crossing her arms and looking at him. "You shaid no, bitch wouldn't shtop." She shrugged. Petrel gaped.

"Bitch, you're crazy," he smiled, though.

"Yeah, well, makes ush great at partners, though, don't it?" She smiled darkly. "Don't be with shtupid girls next time?" It was a timid offer she suggested.

"Not if you're gonna cut 'em up, naw," he said, before taking a swig of whiskey. She frowned, realising her vodka was gone. Ah, well. She was feeling far too lazy to seek out more.

The two parted after a moment, seeking out something new to get themselves into. She saw Petrel disappear into the crowd, watching with blurry vision and droopy eyes. Then she saw him, Gargoyle, leaned against the wall, his anxiety solidified on his face. She approached him, looking at him curiously. "What, not enjoying yourshelf?" She asked, her head tilted.

"Eh? I... you're sloshed," he pointed out and she laughed with a shrug. "I did that hacking shit you asked for." She smiled wide.

"Aweshome. Gotta teach me someday," she said.

"If you'll teach me how to go batshit insane and kill people," he waved his hand at the corpse a couple people dragged away. She giggled.

"No problem." It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't seen Lance there at all and she wondered if he was there, or if he was having a little murder spree in Cinnabar. It made her laugh. Drunk little Lance, killing tourists for fun. She'd have to tell that one to Petrel.

The next morning, Aquila found herself lying on the floor and she groaned, moving to sit up. She felt herself hiss in pain at the bright light that assaulted her eyes. Light had never hurt so fucking badly before. She squinted, looking around and spotted Petrel and groaned out a "aw no," turning away just as quickly. He had no shame, his body ensnared around a grunt with pastel pink hair. Neither of them had clothing. She could feel a surge of something deep within, but she ignored it to attempt to remember the night before.

The last she remembered was piercing her lips. She touched them and grimaced at the sensitive skin. They were swollen a bit. Beyond that, however, was a black slate of nothingness. Still, she couldn't help but connect that pang of feeling within her had something to do with the night before. She screwed her eyes shut before getting up and exhaling in agony. Everything ached. She wondered if she had been thrown around the night before.

She stepped over Rockets, ignoring those who, like Petrel, had barely, or not at all, managed to get decent before falling asleep. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from an ice box and, once again, stepped over Rockets to the broken bathroom. It reeked, smelling of vomit in the toilet. A person had fallen asleep in the tub. She looked in the mirror, squinting as she applied some of the heavy vodka to the piercings. She took a swig of it as well. If shitty comedy movies and cheesy romantic comedy nights with Sabrina had taught her anything, it was that the answer to hangover was more alcohol. She just willed the pain away.

When the alcohol worked its magic she went back in the room with the sleeping groups, kicking Petrel in the side. When he groaned and moved closer to his sex partner she did it again with a frustrated growl. "Hey, Petrel, you're gonna want to get the fuck up and look decent before everyone sees your hairy ass."

That grabbed his attention and he looked up, rolling on his back, before growling from the pain of the sunlight. "My ass," he said through bared teeth, "is not fuckin' hairy." She would have laughed, if she didn't feel a beastly roar within the pit of her stomach attempting to erupt.

"Yeah, well, it's out there." She sat the vodka beside him and he took it, chugging some of it down. After a long moment he sat up and clawed at his clothing, pulling the mass of black on. She didn't pay him any attention while he did. She had seen far more than she desired. "So who is this one?"

He shrugged, pushing hair from his face. "You ask too many fuckin' questions in the mornin'," he whined, squinting at the crowd of sleeping Rockets. They appeared to be the only ones awake and she sat beside him, not bothering to help the pink-haired girl get decent before everyone saw her tits. Petrel didn't, either. They shared the bottle between them, stopping before it got out of hand. "Dunno 'er, prolly from human resources," he said finally.

"How..?"

He laughed, "they're better fucks." He nudged her arm with his elbow. "What, not drunk enough to get jealous n kill 'er?"

"...What?" She asked, looking at him. His amusement dropped.

"Oh, you don't remember." It was back, the amused smile fixated to his face like a perfect pair of gloves to hands. "You get jealous when you're sloshed," he chuckled. She felt the feeling in her chest, the feeling of inhumane roaring. She wasn't so amused as she grabbed her pack of cigarettes, slightly crushed from sleeping on the hard floor and lifted one to her mouth. Petrel dropped the subject, but, just as soon, there was an eruption of Pokegear ringtones. He grabbed his before she could hers and listened intently. "Fuck," he whispered when the recording finished.

"What?"

"That was some people over in hacking, they dropped a recording..." he stood up, shaking his head. "Help me wake these fuckers up."

Aquila smiled darkly, jumping over them to get behind a laptop hooked up to a soundboard. It booted to life, playing music as loud as it had been the night before. The group of people around them woke up with a collective mix of screeches and groans. Oops, looks like all of them had hangovers. "Yo," Petrel shouted when she turned it off again, "we gotta bounce. Now. Cops saw the suspicious wires off the poles. Let's go. Hop, hop." She looked over the crowd for familiar green hair and a black hat, knowing Lance never took the hat off, before she scrambled out the building with Petrel. She had already seen Gargoyle get up with a start and crawl out of a broken window, his body having no effect of alcohol withdrawal.

"Pool's closed," Petrel said, making her laugh as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket. He frowned, looking at his empty pack before Aquila put one in front of his face. "Thanks." They walked through the woods in silence, not worried about their comrades. By that point they had salvaged all the booze they could and had scattered. Only the most basic of grunts would be caught. Those kids were as worthless as a baby Magikarp. "Well," he said when they hit the beach, "we have two options."

"We can call for a copter or stay?" She asked. He nodded. They took a moment to weigh the options before she pulled her Pokegear out to call for a copter to pick them up. They waited at a diner that was positioned on the dock leading to the ocean, ordering food and drinks to rehydrate themselves. "Well, at least we had fun?"

Petrel laughed softly, "yeah, for a night. Was really hoping for an all weekend thing, though." She shrugged, chewing a piece of watermelon before she replied.

"Well, I'm sure there would be more tension and fights tonight," she said helpfully, smiling timidly.

"Some trashy teen comedies you've been watchin'," he said, drinking his soda.

She smiled more sheepishly, "yeah, you're right."

When the copter arrived on the beach they laughed while they watched people scramble away from its landing point, beach towels being flung into the ocean and across the beach. They could hear people whisper, pointing at the blood-red R on the side of the helicopter as they moved toward it. They flashed toothy smiles at the tourists as they boarded it, proud of their positions in the Rocket Gang. It took off just as quickly, leading them off to their Celadon City home.

Aquila never really caught his odd looks in her direction as they flew through the air; she was too interested in the scenery below them and trainers who made their Pidgeots and Fearows avoid the helicopter in the sky. She wasn't sure why, only figuring that if they were killed by the helicopters and jets around them that it was on them - Kanto likely had no law stating that 'air pedestrians' like them had to lead a vehicle off course and that it was on a trainer to pay attention. She thought about looking it up, but she forgot only moments later. It really didn't matter to her.

When they arrived to their flat, Silencer flew up to her, nuzzling her face lovingly and shrieking into her ear. She pet the large bat, assuring it she wouldn't leave him behind again and that he was better off in the flat than cramped into his tiny Pokeball. The Golbat didn't seem to care about her explanation. Petrel, too, was surrounded by his Pokemon, his head encircled with Koffings who headbutted him into laughter. He didn't have enough hands to pet them at once and she could see the jealousy on their little faces. He shrieked when one bit his ear and he batted it away with his hand. "Oi, not the ear, Cyanogen." She would never be able to keep up with their little nicknames because she couldn't tell a difference between the six gaseous Pokemon: Monoxide (his first Koffing, in fact), Cyanide, Arsine, Chlorine, Phosphine, Bromine and Cyanogen. Petrel definitely seemed to remember all of their names without a struggle.

When the Koffings had their share of attention they slowly floated away, chattering amongst themselves. He went to their refrigerator, fishing out a soda that he opened with a crack. She, however, made her way to the coffee table. "Eh, Petrel, I think we're out of the good shit."

"Aw, shit," he murmured with a grimace after he checked his pockets thoroughly. "Yeah, we are. I... I'll be back." With that, he quickly assured his Pokemon he would only be gone for an hour, tops and left the flat. Aquila took the time to shower and change her clothing, throwing herself on the couch with a grumble. The flat was so boring without her partner. She pawed for the remote, turning the tv on and glanced at Petrel's game controller, cold and abandoned, on the coffee table.

"Shit, why not," she mumbled, pressing a button on it. The console under the television whirled to life and she looked at the game that was displayed, holding the controller in her hand with curiosity, staring at it. It had been years since she had bothered playing a game, since school, in fact. She gripped the controller for a moment, adjusting it in her hands until it felt comfortable and pressed the button that the screen said to press.

She didn't even hear Petrel when he came in until he moved her legs to sit on the other end of the couch. "Enjoyin' yourself?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, sitting up with a concentrated look. "So... I killed this one bitch who kept talking shit to me and now the cops... shit," she leaned closer to the screen, eyebrows furrowed. "Fucking cops everywhere, look." He only chuckled, not bothering to look at the screen. "What the fuck they barricaded the highway?"

"If you stay hidden for a minute they'll leave you alone," he said helpfully, crumbling his stolen bud up onto the coffee table.

"...Oh. Really? ...Well." She dropped the controller in her lap. "Well, I jumped off a bridge and they followed me and we all died." He laughed, piling the weed into the glass spoon beside it. "I wish cops were that stupid in real life."

"They usually are," he said quietly, looking at her and grabbing the controller. "Now, I'm bored," he said, holding the bowl up, "let's get high." He brought the bowl to his lips and lit the end on fire. She watched him in anticipation before he passed it to her, grabbing the controller while he held the smoke in his lungs. She breathed in the smoke herself, holding it down with closed eyes. The feeling was too good to her. Her anxiety disappeared without a trace and while she wasn't as introspective as Lance was on the drug, she realised things about herself on it.

The beast within purred in contentment.

She watched Petrel play when she breathed it out until he paused to take another hit. She packed the second bowl for him, watching him play while she did. Aquila had realised something, having watched her friend play the game before, time and time again. He played the missions in that game how he would do missions in Team Rocket if he wasn't so deathly serious about his job, so afraid of failing Giovanni and the organisation. He would do stupid things just to do stupid things, he would get his character beyond drunk then drive to the spot of the mission in a frenzy, letting cops pile up behind him. He would make his character dance around bullets without a care and she would laugh when he would take a stop and shout, "time for quickie sippy, go motherfucker go!" while his character downed a whole beer in front of pissed off cops. It made her realise she actually preferred ultra-serious Petrel when it came to work. Even if it meant he broke his spine to hunch over a laptop for twelve hours after an eight hour set of missions without eating during the entire time period.

"How are you even... how are you not dead?" She asked when his character flew from a car that exploded.

"Fuckin' video game physics, sweetheart," he said idly, his eyes not peeling off the screen. She cringed, unsure of why. He had said it so off-hand but so naturally. It made her wonder if he called her that in his head. She shook her head, running fingers through her hair.

After a long stretch of verbal silence between them, broken up with gunfire and cop sirens and radio stations playing shitty music, she looked at Petrel in confusion. "Would you consider us friends?" He paused the game and looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"What?"

"I mean, are we just..." Aquila looked down from intimidation, "are we friends or are we just dealing with each other because you're stuck with me?"

Petrel opened his mouth and closed it a few times in thought. He lifted her chin up with his index and middle finger, assaulting her nose with cannabis residue. "We're friends, okay? Just 'cause Giovanni threw us together doesn't mean I'm fuckin' dealing with you or whatever." He smiled. "And anyway, Gio likes me so much if I hated you, I could just ask him to get a new flatmate. So relax. Weed's not supposed to make you all sad 'n' shit." She smiled back, leaning back on the couch comfortably. Her eyes felt heavy. She looked at him as he went back to the game. Every time something happened challenging in the game she could see his jaw bare under his skin, a knot of tension lying underneath. He was so fucking thin.

"In news today, an alleged former Team Rocket member, Hachirou Ishikawa, was murdered on the corner of First and Second Streets in Celadon City's southeast quarter. No news on any suspects, currently, other than current Team Rocket members." It was a short segment, but it showed Petrel a mugshot and that's all he needed to know that his flatmate had disappeared without a trace to hunt the former Rocket member down. The moment she had caught wind that he had been fired, she had disappeared, not to be seen for another fourteen hours by anyone. He narrowed his eyes at the television, a warm bowl of ramen noodles forgotten in his hands. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had murdered Dvina, unless that person's name had been erased from the world.

He used his toes to change the channel. He had been channel surfing anyhow, only pausing when he saw a photo of the man he knew to be Dvina. They had met only a few times, but his father held the deceased man in neutral regards. They had only met when Petrel was still living with his father and Dvina had come over on a business meeting. He had never made so much as a sideways glance at Petrel, but now that he knew. He looked at the slightly parted curtains on the other side of the room.

"You only take on those missions the last day of the week because..?" Giovanni asked her. She was too high for this shit right now. Aquila shifted her weight, struggling to keep her eyes looking how she felt: so far gone that she was struggling to pay attention. Everything sane in her told her it was a trick question and she felt cogs turning in her head. Cogs that were covered in cobwebs as thick as human hair.

"Sir, some missions are simply better without Petrel."

"And why, exactly?"

Another moment of long silence as she best formulated her words. Her tongue felt so thick in her mouth. And dry. Of all the times to get the side effect of excessive cotton mouth. She had to consciously keep her eyebrows from knitting. "Well, sir, Petrel has been a little bit... overprotective lately." She shifted her weight again. "To the point where... right now I think it's best we don't go on missions with a high chance of conflict. He might do something dangerous just to protect me."

"And why do you think that?" His eyes narrowed. All of the alarms went off in her head at once to inform her she had said something horribly wrong. Well, thanks, slow brain.

"I told him about my time in the cell an-"

He cut her off with a deathly glare. "So he was the one who murdered Dvina for you?" She felt the colour drain from her face.

"No, sir," she grabbed her collar in her salute, swallowing. "That was me."

Her boss stood up and she flinched. Bad mistake. She could feel her eyes unable to deal with the heavy weight. "What have I told you before?" She felt her anger climb but she choked it down. "Stop drawing fucking attention to yourself, Kobayashi."

"Sir," she said quietly, looking down in submission, "that man tortured me. He deserves it."

"So this is your way of getting revenge?"

"Sir, if he got pissed off enough, he could have spilled everything. He could have spilled every damn ship on the ocean that's shipping the human trafficking trade. Every ship and plane in the air that has pounds of illegal drugs and equipment. If not more," she grit her teeth. "I saved Team Rocket again."

They stared at one another, sparks between their eyes for a moment before Giovanni regained his cool composure. "Fair enough, Aquila." She relaxed her shoulders. "However," she felt herself go on guard again, "the next time you decide to take a little side mission, ask me first." She nodded. He leaned in closer until she could smell stale cigar smoke on his breath. "And you don't save Team Rocket. We save Team Rocket. Team Rocket saves itself." She nodded.

She was too high for this shit.

"But every week," he pressed, "why do you prefer to take more conflict than with your dedicated partner?" She had to stop herself from sighing. She really just wanted to leave.

"Sir, there's nothing going on. I take Lance on those missions with me, he has the day away from his partner too. We work really well together as assassins. Petrel and I..." she paused for a moment to formulate her words, "we work together on a general, all-purpose scale." When Giovanni had nothing to say she swallowed, "I want to test his worth. I know he's been promoted once, but I think we can teach one another quite a bit."

"I see. You can go now." Aquila didn't need telling twice, she turned on her heel and left his office, never making eye contact with his guards. They were faceless entities to her.

The murder of Dvina had been a solo-mission, but she had let Lance come as a backup, as watch. She had waited for hours for him to show his face and it was late in the night that he did. She sat on top of a building, watching the passing pedestrians with mild interest. She had one target, one prey. She didn't eat anything, chain-smoking a couple packs of cigarettes with the patience of a Mandibuzz waiting for a stray Persian to leave half a carcass. When she saw him, she felt the all-too familiar feeling build up in her chest like fire, her eyes zoomed in on his like an android's vision and she grit her teeth until she felt blood from her gums.

This day had been too long coming.

Aquila gripped the scalpel in her fist hard enough to make her knuckles burn from the fabric pressing against them and her fingernails shattered from the force. She could only see blood. Her cigarette was tossed from her mouth, discarded on the roof so he would have no reason to look up. Seconds trickled by like thick syrup as she watched him cross the street. She could see him as if it was daylight out: same creepy face, a dirty tattoo poking out of his sleeve and slicked back hair as he squinted at a newspaper. How cute he looked, when she realised he was trying to assimilate into normal life. She spat out a dark chuckle as he walked beneath her. Her stomach tightened up with an anticipation she hadn't felt since she was opening Christmas presents as a child when she anticipated getting a new video game console or a new, real-life sized Pokemon doll. It was that good. The moment he walked below her she jumped, holding onto her Golbat who swooped down.

He never saw her coming. Her knee collided between his spine and shoulder blade and the crunch of his nose hitting sidewalk, the loud click! as his jaw dislocated and the blood that rushed down his face was so very satisfying. She roared at him, showing bloody teeth in a snarl reserved for the face of a wild animal. She saw his eyes widen as her vision blurred, as she dragged his body to a corner, smashing her boot into his head. The resulting shattering of his teeth made her roar with laughter.

She lifted his head and looked at him, smiling darkly. Sliding the scalpel against his neck she stared at him in the eyes, her vision blurry. It didn't matter. Closure was going to happen. Right now. She dragged his body by the throat to an alleyway. She threw him down into glass, kneeling in front of him and pulling his face up.

"Remember when I asked you," she said softly, "what being sold was, you motherfucker? Remember what you did?" Her hair pooled into fallen blood below their heads as she moved in closer, looking at his crushed face and tears. A feeling of warmth poured over her whole body, hitting her extremities then bouncing back to her face and lower stomach as she stared at his broken face. Flesh was swelling around one of his eyes and his shock locked him in his own body, unable to lift a scream from his throat. "You're getting us money, kiddo," she taunted, smiling wide. "You can't get out, Ishikawa, it's locked" she purred, licking the blood off her teeth as she broke the skin on his neck. "Shut the fuck up, Dvina, we're criminals, we can lie, no refunds." She pressed the scalpel into his neck. His eyes stared at her with fear and more shock. "Let me show you what sold is. Let me show you Team Rocket," she hissed before a roar escaped her. She slit his throat, watching blood gush out of the artery in spurts. She stood up, looking at his corpse and, as a last measure, grabbed his skull, smashing it into the brick wall beside them, again and again until his teeth fell into her hands, in pieces, like little shattered fragments of her innocence.

She pocketed them, searching the pools of blood for orange hairs, which she picked out of it. Within moments, she climbed a fire escape ladder, crawling across rooftops until she was far enough away from the crime as possible. She dropped the hairs into a drain in front of their base, watching the water flow by underneath as Golbat reunited with her, perching on her shoulder. She retreated up the stoop and disappeared beyond the door.

A/N: That last scene is something I've wanted to write for so long now. Not just because, seriously, fuck Dvina, but because it shows her cracking because of him, once again. I've been glossing over her murders because even she doesn't really 'remember' them (either she goes off-kilter and can't see, or she sees white or, you know, she's black-out sloshed, ha). I... I'm in love with the last scene. Hngh. But I promised I would have a lighter-hearted, floofy chapter, and you got that.

Mostly. (If you didn't laugh once, maybe you should, like, re-evaluate your life, SON. Or stop taking things so darned serious, you cutie, you.)

Fuckin' review, or Petrel gets upset and murders more cops in LOLNOTSAINTSROW/GTA (totally not) while his character is stumbling drunk. Prevent digital cop harm. Review the story.