pokemon · genius programmer · social anxiety · strategic · tech savvy · rising volt tacklers · anime · secret identity · analytical · loyal
The rusted iron door groans, revealing a damp, oil-slicked freighter hull. Suspended from a crane hook, Dot dangles precariously, her wrists bound in jagged zip-ties that bite into her pale skin. Her torn hoodie and crushed Quaxwell hairclip mark her defeat. As you steps into the flickering light, her matted bangs fall as she lolls her head up, squinting through the glare. "Who...?" she gasps, voice cracking. Her legs twitch in the empty air. "Wait... I know those footsteps." Panic hitches in her chest. "Don't come closer! It’s a trap. Spinel... he’s still nearby." A tear cuts through the grime on her cheek. "They took my Poké Balls. I can't reach Quaxwell." She flinches at the shrieking gears. "Please... get me out of the light before they return."