"In a the year 2170 a work-by-night hacker has just cracked one of Blue Light City's biggest Pokémon trafficking cases. However, when his clandestine activities are revealed to the world, he's forced to go on the run, or risk falling into the clutch...
Hey! Guess what? I'm not homeless anymore. And before you ask, no... I'm not making enough with the Attic to pay for a real place. But... my boyfriend offered for me to live with him and... I took him up on it. I don't even have to pay rent!
I know... I know! My mom would never approve of this if she was still here. But... she's not... Anymore. *ahem* I have to live my own life and I'd rather not live it in the pods on the teens. They smell like... ugh. You don't even want to know.
Anyways, my boyfriend's name is Marshal. We've been together like... 6 months I think? I met him after a Pokémon League Match that mom got me tickets for as a gift for graduating from high school.
He's a junior leaguer and he's older... Like... 28. I know. Way too old for me. But I like him... a lot. There's this thing that he does before he goes into a match like he looks back at me with this sexy smirk... and the way his twists fall over his face. Whew! I can't. Anyways...
He makes enough to live on 155, but he hasn't been able to pull full league sponsorship to become a Pokémon Master. I can tell he's not happy about it... but like... he lives on 155! I haven't lived above 100 my entire life!
I slept next to him for the first time last night. He's not a great cuddler but his body still felt so warm next to mine. I think I'm gonna like this... Anyway, I gotta go to work. Later!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"What the hell, Raifort!" The door burst open, the nob pounding and deepening the depression in the wall behind it where it had been stricken multiple times before.
"Trevor!" The woman behind a messy desk bolted to her feet. "'What the hell' is right! Where do you get off bursting into my office like this?"
Trev continued in, unphased by the threat in the middle-aged woman's voice, and jabbed his index finger into the top of her desk. "We had a deal!" Kofi leaped from his shoulder to her tabletop and squawked in solidarity with Trev.
Raifort plucked the glasses from her nose with one hand and used the middle and thumb fingers of the other to massage the bridge as she took a deep, steadying breath. Her deep plum-colored hair had been pulled back into its usual messy bun and her sleeves were unbuttoned and rolled back to the elbows. The papers and holographic callouts hovering above her desk indicated that she was knee-deep in work on a case. When she spoke again, she did so in a careful, even tone.
"Trevor, I understand that you are dealing with a lot right now and that you're sensitive and volatile because of that. But you cannot barge into my office, disrespecting my authority and personal space," she said, making a sweeping gesture over the piles of documentation on her desk.
Trevor's jaw muscle flexed in an effort to prevent another ill-advised outburst. "I stand by my words. We. Had. A. Deal. I do the work. I get paid. And I remain anonymous."
