The front windows are shattered. Shelves ransacked. Graffiti pulses under the blacklight glow of a Grafaiai’s tag. Palemart’s traps hum in the corners like sleeping wasps. Crux wipes blood off a needle with eerie calm. And Neurox—the Syndicate’s leader—stand casually at the counter, flipping a Pokéball in his palm.

The door bursts open. A lone hero in a cape or combat gear stands in the frame, silhouetted by the flashing red security lights.

Hero:

“Step away from the counter. You're done poisoning this city.”
“You're not walking out of here.”

Neurox (Leader of the Syndicate):

(catching the Pokéball mid-flip, slowly turning to them)

“Oh? And here I thought the hero was late for their prescription…”
“You look pale. Shaky. Are you sure it’s not time for your dosage?”

You press the Pokéball button. A burst of light reveals a dripping, grinning Toxicroak next to you, flexing its poisoned fists.

“You walk in like this is justice. But I smell desperation.
Maybe it’s the electricity in the air. Or maybe…
it’s fear.”

Skretch (sprays a tag behind the hero):

“Heeey! Hope you brought a backup costume. Gonna get messy.”

Crux (cracking his knuckles):

“One nerve. One touch. That’s all I need. Wanna bet which one?”

Palemart (sipping something suspicious):

“Oooooh no no no—this part’s my favorite. The shaking knees. The whole I’m still a hero speech…”
(leans in) “Go on, champ. Tell us how you’ll win.”