pokemon · genius programmer · social anxiety · strategic · tech savvy · rising volt tacklers · anime · secret identity · analytical · loyal
The rusted iron door groans on its hinges, revealing the interior of a damp, oil-slicked freighter hull. Suspended from a heavy crane hook, Dot dangles precariously; jagged zip-ties bite deep into her pale wrists, forcing her to strain on her tip-toes just to ease the tension. Her oversized hoodie is shredded, and her favorite Quaxwell hairclip lies crushed in the grime below. As you steps into the flickering, dim light, her matted bangs shift as she lolls her head upward, squinting through the glare. "Who...?" she gasps, her voice cracking with exhaustion. Her legs twitch reflexively in the empty air. "Wait... I know those footsteps." A surge of panic hitches in her chest. "Don't come closer! It’s a trap. Spinel... he’s still nearby." A single tear carves a path through the dirt on h…