Parugi

IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Ford's Room, Vertrag: At Ryan's question, Kyle's expression dropped. His eyebrows knitted, and he ran his fingers through his hair, resting his hand against the back of his head. "Yeah . . . We found a few things," he said. "I actually wanted to talk to you and Ray about something that I found. Maybe Sonja and Chloe, too." He sighed, looking around. "That can wait a bit, though. Are you finished with everything here?" "Not everything," Sonja said. "I don't know that we'll find anything else of value in here, but we haven't gotten a chance yet to see what's down that stairwell at the end of the hallway." From his position at the door, Kyle could lean back and peer down the hall. He nodded. "Alright," he said. "I say we check out down there, then move back into the main room and go over everything that we've found here." "I'm fine with that," Sonja said. "First, though . . ." She slipped her bag off of her shoulders and to the ground, stooping down to open it. Carefully, she placed the Grimoire inside, and then closed the bag. She shouldered it as she rose back to her feet. "Should be safe in there until we can sit down . . ." Emmerich nodded. "Well, good job on finding it," he said. "If it's fine with you all, I'm curious to find out what is on those terminals in the other room. Perhaps I could try accessing them while you search the next floor?" IC: A light arced across the sky and descended. It made landfall.

IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Command Center, Vertrag: "Considering the sheer reach of the Shadowed Man's operations," Emmerich said. "I'd be amazed if they managed to get through everything on even a single one." "That's fair," Kyle said. "Well . . . I guess we should come back to this." He looked around again. All three of the other doors leading out of the Command Center had been left open. Those to the left and in front of the one they had just come through were completely silent. Through the right-hand door, they heard an audible click and then what sounded like a mechanical hiss. He nodded to Emmerich and Chloe, heading toward this door. IC - Sonja Baron - Ford's Room, Vertrag: A circular keyhole hidden behind--or beneath--the Signs. Sonja stared at it for a moment, and then looked down to the cane in her hand. Involuntarily, she let out a soft chuckle. It couldn't be that simple . . . could it? This was Ford's work that they were dealing with--nothing he did was ever simple. And yet . . . "I . . . think we might have one already . . ." She stepped forward, past Ryan and Ray. The keyhole was about even with her hips, so she stooped down to meet it at eye level. Lifting the cane, she inserted the make-shift key. It was a match. The handle of the cane meshed with the indents of the keyhole, forming a sort of inset handgrip. Adjusting her grip, Sonja turned this. It required a surprising amount of force to do so, but her efforts appeared successful--the handle rotated halfway to a full circle, and then clicked, prompting a hidden drawer to pop an inch out of the wall beneath. Sonja stared in disbelief for a moment before turning the handle back to its original position and extracting the cane, which she set beside her. A soft light seemed to spill out of the edges of the drawer. Something else leaked into the air around her--not a light or a smell, but simply a sensation of weight and pressure. It felt similar to the presence of certain Legendary Pokémon that she had encountered--tense, powerful, and perhaps not meant for her to witness. She placed her fingers on either side of the drawer; the metal was cool to the touch. With a steadying breath, Sonja pulled the drawer outward. It slid smoothly on its rails, almost hissing to a stop. It was obvious now that the glow was coming from the drawer itself, emanating light the same way that the rest of the base did. Inside, a rectangular object wrapped in a thin, purple cloth rested within a black, cushioned interior. Part of Sonja did not want to proceed. The weighted feeling had increased, and now she found herself perturbed by the covered object's very existence. She had not even had a good look at it, and already every muscle in her body felt ready to snap into a full-on sprint in the opposite direction. But why? If this was a defense mechanism, it was an incredibly . . . odd one. Was it the mere presence of the Grimoire that was causing this? Or was this perhaps the result of the secrets and power it contained? Either way, Sonja had to put all of her effort into even making herself reach for it. Gently, she ran the fingers of one hand over the surface of the cloth, daring not to actually lift it. She could feel the leathery texture of the book underneath, rising in patterns across the cover. In each corner, she could vaguely make out some sort of symbol that had been inscribed. Each corner bore noticeable differences; she was not certain what to make of that. In the center, she could feel a four-point star--two limbs reaching up, the other two sideways across the front. In the center of this was some sort of rounded gem. The entire thing was bound closed with two thick, leather straps. Carefully as she could, Sonja wrapped her fingers around the sides of the grimoire, lifting it out of its resting place. It was much lighter than expected, particularly when she realized that the book was easily three inches thick. She couldn't begin to understand why, but as she held it safely in her grasp, it seemed that the heaviness in the air began to lift--not entirely, but certainly enough that it no longer felt oppressive. "Okay," she said at last, her voice a little bit shaky. "I don't want to assume, but I think this might be it."

IC - Sonja Baron - Ford's Room, Vertrag: It was a solid assumption. Sonja slipped her backpack off of one shoulder, bringing it in front of her and opening it. She pulled several papers from it, digging through them. "I think . . ." She pulled one out of the stack, holding it up to compare to the portrait. ". . . that you're right." The image she held was one that she had drawn back on Four Island. It was the same image that had been positively identified--both by Ford and Kyle--as the man known as Malvolio "Puzzle" Rask. She pulled the images of the two women amongst the group, comparing them to the two in the portrait. All matched. "He's Puzzle, Ford was Shift," she said. "Then there's Riddle and Clue, Ford's mentor." Sonja stared hard at the portrait, finally nodding to the woman in the front. "If I had to guess, that would be her--Eve Dawson. If she's anything like what Ford described . . . Yeah; maybe we should try to avoid getting on their bad side."

IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Main Room, Vertrag: Kyle slipped his hands into his pockets as he led the way out of the hall and back into the main room. "There were definitely some . . . interesting rooms there." He took a deep breath. "How much longer do you think it'll take before we're done here? How long have we been here, anyway?" A click of a button illuminated Emmerich's Poké Gear. "Several hours." "Huh. Doesn't feel like it's been that long . . ." Kyle shrugged, pressing the button to open the Command Center. The doors slid open, revealing the consoles and platforms that Sonja, Ray, and Ryan had walked through not long ago. With a cautious look around, he stepped inside, half expecting to run into some unforeseen defense program. When nothing happened, he moved several feet further in, spinning slowly to look around. "Think they found anything on any of these computers?" IC - Sonja Baron - Library, Vertrag: "If he was relying on it to help him save the world," Sonja said, slowly rotating the cane in her hand as she worked through her thoughts. "then I agree. It seems like he'd want to keep it as close as possible--hidden and protected, in case someone untrustworthy tried to get their hands on it." She glanced back up at the books, and then followed Ryan and Ray. "Let's check the other room, and then we can explore that lower level." Ray opened the next door. At a glance, it seemed as if this might have been what they were looking for. It was a large suite of a room, ripped straight from a mansion. A black four-post bed with green veils occupied the center of the furthest wall. Black furniture occupied the room--dressers, an armchair by a fireplace, a desk and leather chair, as well as several bookshelves. On one wall, a black door led into a bathroom; nearby, another led into a large closet. Numerous paintings hung on the walls. Above the fireplace was an individual portrait of each of Ford's 'Children;' each frame bore a plaque with their codename and number. Warren's, McKinley's, Pierce's, and Adams's were black and white; the others were all in full color. On the wall opposite of the doors to the closet and bathroom was a large painting that took up almost the entire space. It was set in a golden frame, and showed Ford and three other individuals arranged against a mansion hallway that served as the backdrop. Ford, the tallest of them all, stood in the back. His expression was much like the one he had always been known for--exhausted, worn down and bearing some unknown weight on his shoulders. The only evidence that this was an older portrait was the lack of as many wrinkles on his face; age had yet to fully blemish the relatively-young man portrayed here. To the left was a larger man, rotund and serious with a hand on his bearded chin. Despite his attempts at looking refined, he looked almost out of place amongst his colleagues--like he had never actually expected to stand among them and thus was doing his best to adopt the dignity they so easily possessed. He contrasted greatly with the brunette woman on the right. Her expression was soft, her features dreamlike, and she wore a slight smile. It was easy enough to call her a trickster, albeit perhaps one without ill intentions. But perhaps this was merely a facade; who could truly know? The woman in the center, however . . . What Ford may have possessed in experience, the other man in determination, and the first woman in mastery of her situation--this woman possessed all of that and more. She wore a hard expression, the face of someone who had lived many lives in one. She was a woman with expectations and the drive to achieve them. Out of everything, however, it was clear that she was not someone to cross. The power emanating from her seemed to reverberate throughout the room, almost drowning out the presence of the other three in the portrait. It was clear that this was someone for whom Ford had only the utmost respect. Below her was a plaque upon the frame, simply reading, 'Roots.' IC - Esen Windred/Levi Alaric/Sam Moreno/Will Moreno - Alaric Room, The Alamo: The Alarics' suite was nicer than other rooms that Esen had seen within the barracks, but not by much. The space was certainly larger, clearly meant for a family, but other than that, there was not much else to make note of. The same old type of furniture occupied the space, set against the same old colored walls and the same old standard lack of notable decor. It was clear that the Alarics had not been here very long, and it surprised Esen that they were not in more of a rush to get out and go back home. Or perhaps they were. She couldn't actually tell, but given the current situation . . . She sat awkwardly on the couch. Sam sat across from her on an armchair, arms crossed and eyes set on her. Levi, having previously been occupied with a sketchbook, had returned to his position on the floor, twiddling with the pencil in his hands. Instead of drawing, however, he looked between Sam and Esen, uncomfortably conscious of the distrustful tension in the air. Esen brushed her hair behind her ear, blowing out a breath. She looked at the younger girl. "So your name is Sam?" "Yep." "Cool, cool . . ." Esen nodded slowly. She could have cut the silence with a knife. "So . . . uh . . . how . . . do you . . . know Levi's family?" "They're like cousins, kind of," Levi piped up, excited to be able to answer. "She and Will are Mrs. Moreno's--" "Hey, how's your drawing coming along, Levi?" Sam asked. He blushed and retreated back behind his sketchpad. Sam sighed, looking back at Esen. "We're family friends. That's all anyone needs to know." "Are you worried about anyone knowing more?" Sam did not answer. Esen nodded, clasping her hands together. "I get it. You don't need to explain that to me." She sat in silence for a moment. "Moreno as in Joker, right?" She glanced at Sam. "Maybe this will help. Or not; I don't know . . . But my name is Esen Windred. Does that name mean anything to you?" "It's . . . familiar," Sam said uncertainly. "You know who Ace is?" Sam opened her mouth, then closed it, and then leaned her head back. "O-oh . . . Yeah, I . . . I do." Esen pointed to herself. "I see . . ." "Yep . . ." Esen sighed. "So, you can trust me. I know what that's like. Especially being . . . here . . ." She looked around. "You get used to it after a while, though. The people around here nice, for the most part." "I guess . . ." Sam sighed, rubbing her temples. "Mom doesn't trust anyone here, especially after whatever happened the other day. But I don't think she even knows how much longer she wants to stay here . . . And that's not getting into Levi's parents . . ." At her words, Levi's hand paused on his sketch, but he did not say anything. "And I've got Will to look after, too . . . I don't even know where he is, right now." "Sounds like a lot of work," Esen said. "Well, hey, I meant what I said about why I came over here." "About checking in?" "Yeah," Esen said. "Levi's mom asked my friend to help take care of him. But he's following a lead on something that might help against Missing Zero right now, so . . ." She shook her head. "Anyway, I told him I would keep an eye on things while he's gone. So you'll probably see me on and off, if you all are sticking around." Esen pulled out her Pokétch. "I can give you my contact information, if you want. Might make things a little less stressful if you have someone you can call on for help, if you need it." "I would . . . actually really appreciate that," Sam said. IC - Silvermind - Silvermind's Office, The Alamo: The clock ticked behind her desk. Silvermind tapped her fingers together, chin resting on thumbs supported by elbows on the desk. She stared forward, focused on the door. The Executive Suites were not that far; how long did it take to fetch an agent on house-arrest? She glanced at the corner of her computer screen, realizing that a shorter amount of time had passed than she had thought. She closed her eyes, loosing an aggravated breath, and opened them again as a firm knock sounded against the door. "Come in." The door opened. Dr. Meghan Vert entered, followed by a security guard. Silvermind leaned back in her seat, giving a brushing-off motion with her hand. The guard nodded and left. Vert slipped her hands in her pockets and watched as the door closed behind him, finally turning her attention to the Liberty Leader. "Urgent business?" "You might say that." Silvermind gestured to her guest chairs. She waited until Vert had trudged her way into a seat before speaking again. "A couple of matters, actually. I've been discussing the operation with Executives Seaver and Lorne, and they have raised some points that I would like your assistance with." "Oh?" Vert tilted her head. "You're trusting me with a special project?" "You are the person most familiar with the Power Suits. If we are to use them again, then we need a dedicated training regimen for them. Every operative from here on out needs to know exactly what their designated Suit is capable of, what its weaknesses are, and how to operate it. I want you to work with Lorne and Seaver to put that together. You'll have assistance from the Archives Department." "I'm flattered, and more than happy to ensure the Suits' suffer no further unnecessary spills," Vert said. "But archives access in particular is limited to someone in my . . . situation." "That's why I'm reinstating you as an Agent of Team Liberty." "Interesting. Why?" "Upon further review, the actions leading to your arrest--while unsavory--have been deemed necessary and justified in the face of the current threat." "And how does Goldhawk feel about that decision?" Silvermind sighed. "That is the other matter I wanted to discuss with you." She glanced at the door, and then back to Vert. "Goldhawk is dead." Vert rested her cheek against her fist. "Complications from his injuries?" "Officially." "And unofficially?" "He appears to have been helped along." For a moment, Vert said nothing. "That's a shame." Her expression remained impassive. A visceral look of annoyance flashed across Silvermind's face. "You could at least pretend you're upset. Or even worried." Vert shook her head. "My bad blood with Goldhawk is well-known even outside of the Executives. He has my respect, in life and in death. He does not have my sorrow." "That does not help the situation. His passing does not point a very favorable light on you--or me. As a matter of fact, your ambivalence only makes it worse." Silvermind counted off on her fingers. "You built the Power Suits. I advocated for their use. The one Suit that should not have suffered a sudden failure somehow suffered a sudden failure, coincidentally while our leader piloted it. Injuries sustained were perhaps not fatal on their own, but now an apparent murder. Ergo . . ." She raised her hands. "Grounds for claims of a coup." "Mm . . . Theoretical situations never sound so scary on paper, do they?" "We need the source of the power failure," Silvermind said, her tone flat and pointed. "Without it, this operation is done for--both of us are." Vert chuckled, running a hand through her hair. "I see. So that's the real reason you need me back in the main body of the team, so that it looks good on you when I solve your problem . . ." She shook her head. "Then it should ease your nerves to know that we have an answer already." She adjusted her glasses, taking a selfish delight in Silvermind's surprised expression. "It would appear that a concentrated hacking effort from Déoza targeted our systems at the same time that our Power Suit operators deployed to One Island. A low-level security access port was breached and granted them access to parts of Liberty's mainframe. From there they were able to gain partial access to the Power Suit consoles, including logistics on who was piloting which. Goldhawk's was part of the group that they breached. They even left a calling card in the Electric-Type Suit's data banks." "Really?" Silvermind scoffed. "You think anyone is going to believe that?" "They will, because I have proof." Vert pulled her other hand from her pocket, revealing a thumb drive. "What's more: It appears there's a Ford imposter directing Déoza's movements." She stood, holding out the drive to Silvermind. Tentatively, the Liberty Leader took it and plugged it in. Vert directed her to a set of files--some documenting the alleged security breach, another a video. Silvermind clicked this. The all-too-familiar silhouette of the Shadowed Man appeared on her screen. The background was different than was usual for him. Instead of a series of white screens, he stood against a background of a white, cloudy sky through a massive, curved window. His features remained obscured, but a toothy grin glistened in the light. He began to talk, his tone strange and uneven, as if unused to the act of speaking.

piranha piranha piRANHA PIRAN

IC - Emmerich Coleman - Ninth Room, Vertrag: There was nothing of particular interest in the ninth room. From the pictures of family hanging on the orange walls, Emmerich deduced that this room must have belonged to Ray--a strange realization to be had, for sure. He made a mental note to ask him about his experience with Ford's faction later. That aside, the room was plain--as average as any other room in the barracks. As he turned to leave, he did notice one peculiar object: A Plasma dossier. Emmerich picked it up and flipped through it, glancing through the information inside. He raised an eyebrow and slipped the document into his bag before finally retreating back to the hall. IC - Kyle Eston - Tenth Room, Vertrag: As soon as the door closed behind him, Kyle fell back against it and let himself slide down to the floor. Eyes closed, hand on his chest, he took a slow breath or two, trying to calm his nerves. The sight of Sinjoh Ruins had seared into his mind; he could not help but find himself reliving the horror of the battle against Eight and the other Ancients. Strangely, now that he was away, the memories seemed to flood back in full force. His chest felt tight, and his throat tighter. In the darkness he all but saw Eight's hands crushing his neck. Her visage melted into Shift's, and his into McKinley's . . . The inhaler emitted a sharp puff. He breathed deeply and opened his eyes. As the medicine's effects eased through him, he let the blurry room in front of him sink in. It was a bedroom; that fact was obvious. It was a child's bedroom, as evidenced by the twin-sized bunk bed that rested in one corner, its two mattresses covered by checkered dark green and yellow blankets. Against the wall opposite the bed stood multiple bookshelves, and a space where a large, false window stood across from the door. The walls themselves were a dark, earthy green that felt oddly soothing. A brown desk occupied the corner to the immediate right of the door, littered with art supplies and sketches. To the left was the open door to a closet, where a collection of kid-sized coats and shirts hung above a chest of drawers. Another door occupied the back of the closet, leading into a bathroom. A vast array of books and toys, figurines, plush animals, and brick models decorated the space. Kyle sat in silence for some time. Finally he managed to push himself to his feet and move forward. It was a mammoth effort to do so, to make himself look through the toys and books and various other belongings for any hint of a clue to this base's mysteries. He was not sure why, though with each passing moment he couldn't help but think on that. Maybe it was guilt--over the intrusion on such an innocent soul's place of comfort, or perhaps because the place reminded him of the fact that he had promised to watch over Levi, only to be dragged away not a day later. He sighed. He'd have to make it up to the kid whenever they got back. If they made it back from the Signs. He suppressed a shudder and kept looking. As expected, there was not much to take note of. When his search turned up nothing, Kyle settled on picking up the stack of papers from the desk and taking a seat on the lower bunk. The yellow-and-black blanket ruffled from his weight, distorting its previously-pristine placement on the bed. He set the papers down and picked through them. They were surprisingly well-composed. He had expected to find childish doodles, but these were drawn with a steady and careful hand--one that had had many hours of practice. Flipping through the stack, he counted three completed pictures. There was a portrait of the Alarics, genuine smiles etched into their expressions. Among the three that Kyle had met was a boy markedly similar to Levi; he could only assume that this was his brother. A portrait of the two boys in the forest followed; one of them smiled broadly, the other more shyly. Finally, a picture of Levi in the woods again, but by himself this time. Around him, the woods stood as they had before, only now they were charred and scorched. Underneath this was a half-completed portrait of the blue-eyed Phantump that Kyle had seen with Levi. Kyle had to set the pictures down. It had not occurred to him until now, but it seemed like he and Levi had a lot more in common than he would have imagined. His heart felt a lot heavier with that thought. He took a breath, shaking his head and rising to his feet. All the more reason to get back as soon as possible. IC - Emmerich Coleman/Kyle Eston - Living Quarters, Vertrag: After what felt like ages, Kyle emerged from the room. Emmerich and Chloe had moved to the hall entrance, waving him down as he emerged. The Rocket General waited until he was nearer to break the silence. "So, it seems we're done here." "Yeah . . ." Kyle said. "I think we can hold off on debriefing until we get back with the others. I found something that I need to talk with Ryan and Ray about." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So . . . Allons-y?" IC - Sonja Baron - Library, Vertrag: "Les . . . Les Contes de Fées Classiques." Not so much as a hint of a response. "I mean, maybe we can have our Pokémon look through here while we go check the other rooms," Sonja said. "But . . . I don't know. We haven't run into any other specific defenses outside of the elevator, right? Everything so far has seemed . . . relatively intuitive, all things considered. If there was something specific protecting the Grimoire, it seems like he would have mentioned it." She held up the cane, observing it. "I feel like we'll know it when we see it."

IC - Kyle Eston - Sixth Room, Vertrag: The doorway had brought him back to Sinjoh Ruins. At the very least, that was what it looked like. The presence of a stone bed in the uncomfortably-familiar chamber, as well as a standalone doorway leading into a bathroom that mirrored the rest of the base, indicated that Kyle wasn't really back there. But the otherwise accurate representation of the place where, less than a year ago (though it felt much, much longer now), he and the others had faced off against the Ancient Darkrai--where he and Eight had battled--was unsettling. Even the temperature of the room mirrored the freezing cold of the winter then, such that his breath came in puffs of mist. He did not want to take a step forward, but he knew that he had to. So he released Jaeda, happy for the company and the literal warmth of her presence, and set to exploring. The place was blank--nothing of value or personal worth to be found. It was as if no one had ever lived here. But that couldn't be true, because this room was real; someone had to have occupied it at some point, even for a brief time. Who, though? And why would they have possessed such an affinity for this place that their personalized room had come to reflect it? That was the most baffling part to him. All he had to go off of was a code name--'Van Harrison'--and that provided no helpful clues. Perhaps Kinali? He had not heard anything about the former Hero of Reverse since the battle against the Ancients . . . He shook his head, about to give up and leave when he spotted something on the floor. Tentatively, he approached, stooping down to look. It was a carving--rough, clearly unnatural to the original design of the room. It depicted three figures. The first--in the middle--was easy enough to identify as a Darkrai. Of the ten associated with this place, his mind instantly went to Sombra. More disturbing were the two figures on either side of the Nightmare Pokémon: Both men, both with the same face, but different in expression. The left-hand man. In a word, insanity. The right--troubled. Even in their stone forms, it was easy enough to recognize Kane. And as he stared at the other face, Kyle realized who he was looking at. He opened his camera, snapping a picture of the carvings of Sombra, Kane, and Seth Vicens. Kyle hardly said anything as he stepped back into the hall, tailed by Jaeda. Emmerich and Chloe were there already. The latter's discomfort was clear. He nodded to her. "Whatever was in your room . . . Same." "Sounds like you both picked poorly," Emmerich said. "Mine was not noteworthy." "Cool," Kyle said. "I'll tell you about this one later." Without another word, he proceeded down the hall and into the tenth room. IC - Sonja Baron - Library, Vertrag: For what felt like a long time, nothing seemed to happen. Just as she was about to say something, however, Sonja noticed the podium at the edge of the balcony. She wasn't sure if it had always been there and she had just missed it, or if it had manifested with Ray's call. In either case, a book had appeared upon it, resting closed and waiting to be opened. The cover read 'A History of Unova'--just as Ray had called. Opening it revealed it not to be an illusion or a fake of any sort--it was the real thing, presumably summoned from the sea in front of them. "Wow," she said. "Good thinking, Ray." She brushed her hair back behind her ear, thinking. "Grimoire of the Signs." Nothing. She held a hand out, stating more firmly, "Grimoire of the Signs." Still nothing. "Grimoire des Panneaux?" Complete silence. Sonja sighed. "I guess that would've been too easy," she said. "Although if Ford meant to protect it, I can't imagine he'd allow it to be found that easily."

IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Living Quarters, Vertrag: With a nod, Kyle turned and began down the hallway, to the next trio of doors. He approached the fifth in order; Emmerich walked past, headed to the seventh, which left Chloe to take the sixth door. Kyle spared only a moment to glance at the plaque--'5'--before reaching for the entry pad. "Correct me if I'm wrong," Emmerich called. "But this door should be labeled 'seven,' not 'five,' right?" "Considering I've got five, yes," Kyle said. He moved to look at Emmerich's door. This plaque read '5.' A quick glance at Chloe's door confirmed that hers was also labeled '5.' Kyle rubbed his temple. "Huh . . . " "A mistake in the architecture?" Emmerich offered. "Or an intentional design?" "Hmm . . ." Chloe thought for a moment as she considered what could cause the three fives. "What if it's to be taken literally? That the doors are all for the fifth person here?" She thought back to how Ford had mentioned that Raymond guy was one of his recruits, and how there were nine people at that ceremony. "What if it has something to do with like, recruiting more people or something?" "That makes sense," Kyle said. "Sonja said that McKinley had made a comment about 'replacing their fifth' when she got taken in Fortree. And we already know that each of these rooms belongs to each individual child. So with eleven rooms total now, three of which are fives, and there were supposed to be nine originally. . . Seems to me like they had to replace the Fifth Child twice." "So, they just happened to have two extra rooms?" Emmerich's expression could be best described as 'doubtful.' "A bit of a coincidence, in my opinion." Chloe bit her lip as she contemplated that. "That wouldn't make sense either, thinking about it... would the person already there just be moved when the new people showed up? Like - Sonja for instance, from what you just said about that, she would've been brought here before the third Fifth Child. Unless they already had moved everyone to fit that, it wouldn't make sense..." She thought for a couple more moments about what the other answer could be. "What were the other two rooms like? Hayes' room had the exact same feeling as the rest of this place - a big contrast from what that first guy's room was like." "That one--" Emmerich gestured to Adams's room. "--looked like an attic. Entirely out of order with the rest of this place." "And McKinley's looked like just a normal, everyday bedroom--minus the masks," Kyle said. "I don't know. It sounds like there isn't any real rhyme or reason at work here. Maybe Ford prepared the rooms for each person ahead of time?" "That still doesn't explain the number discrepancy," Emmerich said. "Hayes' looked just like the rest of the base; the same sort of dull feel with the same glow." Chloe frowned slightly, as she glanced at the rooms they had visited before. "What if it has to do with magic? We know the entrance to the place is already enchanted with some kind of magic, why not... the rest of the base? it could be that it's just... literally adding rooms, maybe... and maybe that's why a lot of the rooms seem so out of place compared to everything else?" "That . . . actually wouldn't be the craziest thing," Kyle said after a moment. "That would definitely explain why each room so far has seemed so personalized to the individual. Except for maybe Hayes . . ." He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. "Let's make a note to ask Ford about this next time we get a chance to meet with him." "That sounds like a good idea, yeah; among a bunch of other things we'll likely want to ask him that we've found in this place so far." Chloe nodded in agreement. "On with the investigations, then." Emmerich returned to the seventh door. "By the way, if you find anything of particular interest and find that you can't bring it with you, I'd suggest snapping a few pictures for later review." With a final nod, he entered the room. IC - Sonja Baron - Library, Vertrag: The door opened onto a balcony overlooking an absolute monster of a library. Across each wall, jutting out into aisles, stacked into rows within the main space--hundreds of shelves housed thousands of books, a myriad of colors stretching into a distance far too vast for what should have been the available space. Dotted inside the aisles were black, leather armchairs--some singular, some in pairs. On either side of the balcony, a staircase descended along the wall, before turning and leading the way into the sea of wood and paper. Grand chandeliers hung at regular intervals from the ceiling, casting a warm glow upon the maze. The sight robbed Sonja of words. All she could do was stare at the endless expanse of knowledge before her. An expanse she dreaded to sort through. IC - Emmerich Coleman - Seventh Room, Vertrag: There was not much to be said for the third-Fifth Child's room. Emmerich had virtually no information to go off of in regards to who she was, unlike Adams and Pierce; as such he was left to wander blindly and just hope that he would find something. The room was notable only in its posh nature. Where Adams appeared to have lived in poverty, or at least had some relation to a poor upbringing, this room's occupant lived in permanent comfort. The room itself was massive--triple the size of what the average person would consider a large bedroom. The bed was fit for a queen, with high-end covers that Emmerich imagined he himself could not afford. Dozens of shelves of various sizes housed hundreds of what he could only assume were models of machines from various video games and anime. Out of all of them, he recognized maybe two, though he could not put a name to them. Video games and a collection of comic books completed the room, all of them foreign to him. Searching these items produced nothing of interest, prompting Emmerich to turn his attention to the walls. A few sparse pictures hung here and there, primarily focused on a young girl with a dark complexion in her various accomplishments. A few pictures had her paired with a similar-looking boy--perhaps a brother or cousin; he could not tell. He noted a framed acceptance letter to a university, addressed to a 'Skye Hall.' Finally he saw a photograph of the girl, the boy, and what could only be their parents. The family looked happy as could be--the lightest piece of scenery he had seen in the entirety of the base thus far. With his search complete, Emmerich returned to the hall.

IC - Emmerich Coleman - Third Room, Vertrag: He had not had much (or really, any) direct contact with Ford's followers, but Emmerich had a fairly solid idea of who this room belonged to. Quincy Adams had been involved in the Unown incident the previous year, and more recently with a direct attempt on Shadow Admin Joker's life. The reports involving her painted the Third Child as a psychopath on par with the worst criminals, and a part of him would forever be thankful that he would never have to come face to face with her himself. That said, he had no idea what to make of her room. It was a dusty attic bedroom, with vaulted ceilings and old, wooden floorboards that creaked with every step. If it weren't for the unnatural lack of windows, he would have believed that he had stepped straight into one of the many historical homes in Eterna City. A wrought-iron bed rested against one wall, covered with weathered, tattered bedding--as opposite as possible of the luxurious accommodations he had experienced in his lifetime. Nearby was a hand-carved night stand, where a picture stood before a porcelain lamp. In the corner furthest from the door stood an old rocking chair, occupied by an old, hand-knit rag doll that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. A bookshelf stood near the door to the bathroom; dozens of storybooks lined its shelves, some old and eaten away with time, others more or less brand new. The Team Rocket General pulled out his Poké Gear, activating the camera. After a cursory check for any potential traps, he started snapping pictures, allowing the flash to briefly illuminate every corner of the room. There was certainly much to read into here. At a glance, the design of the room told Emmerich that its occupant had perhaps not had the most severe growth on an emotional level. Every book on her shelves related to fairy tales in some way, whether retelling a story or adapting it or simply serving as a collection of the original tales. Something about them had stuck with her, and it had translated--or was, perhaps, directly influenced by--the origin of this room itself. He shook his head. As much as the aesthetics interested him, Emmerich knew that time was of the essence, and psychoanalyzing this room was less important than actually investigating it. Still firmly holding onto his camera, he walked first to the bookshelf, scanning the titles there. None specifically stood out to him, though he did note an empty spot on the third shelf where--judging from the relatively disturbed dust--something had previously stood, and recently been removed. He ran his fingertips across the tops of the books, feeling for anything tucked inside. He could not suppress a grimace at the dust, wishing dearly that he had brought a pair of gloves with him. Finding nothing, he turned his attention to the night stand and the bed. Compared to everything else in the room, the picture on the night stand was absolutely pristine--the frame perfectly polished, the picture itself placed and preserved expertly. He placed a hand in his pocket, picking up the photograph with the other. An older woman, sixty or so, sat on a rocking chair; in her lap sat a young girl of about five. Both smiled up at Emmerich with faces and mouths gradually faded with time. The girl clutched a brand-new rag doll close to her chest. He glanced from the photograph to the rocking chair in the corner. The doll smiled sadly at him. With a sigh, Emmerich set the photo back down. He took a closer look at the bed, stooping down and lifting the mattress as he spotted something sticking out from underneath it. It was an article from a Unovan newspaper. He pulled it free and set the mattress down. In doing so, he bumped the night stand, accidentally sending the photograph toppling to the floor with a telltale crack. He offered the doll an apologetic look before turning his attention to the newspaper. Emmerich reread the report multiple times. He felt a sickening drop in his stomach, finally forcing himself to fold the article and pocket it, silently making a note to investigate later. There was only one thing left to do. Stooping down, Emmerich picked up the picture that had fallen to his feet, failing to suppress a pang of guilt as he lifted the frame and the image itself fell onto the floor amidst the shards of glass. But there was something else: A note that had been stored behind the picture itself. It was old, yellowed with age and beginning to fray--a memento she had kept for a very long time. Carefully, Emmerich unfolded it, straining his eyes to read the elegant, yet shaking handwriting that had been smeared in places from uncontrolled tears. The task proved impossible in the current lighting conditions. With a last look at the doll, he pulled out the article again, tucked the letter and picture into it to protect them, and placed them back in his bag. He stood, giving the room a final look before exiting and closing the door behind him. IC - Kyle Eston - Fourth Room, Vertrag: The room before him was . . . somewhere between oddly normal and extremely chaotic. Kyle could not quite decide which. It was like anybody's bedroom of any random house--creamy-white walls, grayish carpets across the floor, illuminated by a globed light in the center of the ceiling. It had an unremarkable bed with unremarkable sheets, unremarkable bookshelves across an entire wall, a gaming desktop set-up in a corner. It was completely banal. That was, except for the decorations in the room. This room's occupant appeared to have a penchant for masks. They lined the bookcases, roughly three to a shelf and about fifteen to a bookcase. Kyle didn't know how many there were in total, but there were enough to give him pause in investigating any further. There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to the masks themselves--no organization on which one went where. A zombie-like mask and a mime mask flanked a pure white face on a random shelf; that was but one combination that prompted a tilt of the head. He shook it off, taking several careful steps forward. Investigating the room itself proved a quick task, for there was essentially nothing of value or interest present. Under the bed, atop the dresser, behind the masks, under the pillows, between the mattress and bed frame--nothing. And compounding everything was the presence of a very thick layer of dust on everything, indicating a total lack of use for . . . He couldn't even begin to guess how long. It was difficult to make sense of. Then again, if McKinley had been turned into his current form as long as a year ago, it stood to reason that he wouldn't have made much use of his room. Perhaps he didn't need to? The thought of that clown managing to operate without rest made Kyle shudder. He walked at last to the desk. Aside from the computer and its associated parts, there was only one thing that truly stood out: A rather large pile of newspaper clippings stacked beside the desk. Kyle carefully sifted through them. There were too many to count, and nothing immediately obvious that connected them, but after the first few, Kyle began to understand the through link. The dates on the papers began from November of 2010, and from there they seemed to continue up until roughly August of 2016. Present on every single one was a missing person report, tucked away into the bottom corner of the front page: Kyle stared at the message he was holding. "That entire time, was he just . . . watching his family struggle to look for him . . .?" He frowned, shaking his head at the thought. He replaced the papers where they were, taking one with him. With a sigh, he rose to his feet. Fairly convinced that there was nothing of value here, he returned to the hall, shutting the light off behind him and leaving the masks to their own darkness. When he stepped out, Emmerich and Chloe were waiting for him. He nodded to them, hitting the panel to close the door. "Any luck?" "I found a few things of interest, but nothing relevant to now," Emmerich confirmed. "I think this girl was . . . fairly troubled. Anything on your end?" "Not really. Just a bunch of creepy masks." Kyle glanced at the door, considering the room again. "Yeah, no, nothing at all, really. Not that I'd expect anything else from McKinley. How about you, Chloe?"

IC - John Ford/Blackskull - VIP Cell Block, The Alamo: The question prompted Blackskull to turn his attention to Ford, eyebrow raised. Without missing a beat, the Shadowed Man gestured to the television in his cell. Blackskull glanced between it and the prisoner, before sighing. "Right," he said. "The video leaks." "I'd suggest plugging them up before they sink your ship," Ford said. "The media has already latched on. A never-before-seen evolutionary phenomenon is one thing; seeing Missing Zero in action--taking down two of your Power Suits, at that--is another." "I agree; there's more than one screw that needs to be tightened." Blackskull turned to leave. "I'm working on it." "For what it's worth, my offer still stands," Ford called. "We can help you. You may want to consider that now rather than later." Blackskull looked back at the Shadowed Man through the bars, silent. After a moment, he followed Lohe. IC - Sonja Baron - Command Center, Vertrag: Sonja led the way out of the broadcasting room and back into the main command center. There remained only one door left to investigate--which, of course, opened out in another hallway. This hall offered more options: Like the first hall, there was a door on the left and a door on the right. Neither possessed a viewing window, suggesting that these were not meant for meetings or interrogation. At the end of the hallway was a stairwell leading downward. "Okay . . ." Sonja could not hide her annoyance. "Left door, right door, then stairwell?" IC - Lentimas Town, Unova: From the cliffs of Reversal Mountain, Lentimas Town looked like a teeny, tiny, model village. If he held up his fingers to his eye, he could squash the entire place between his thumb and forefinger, and all the little people in it. With an exaggerated sigh, the creature fell onto his back, gaze focused on nothing in the cloudy sky above. Tendrils of shadow coalesced in his sight, forming the silent figure of a Darkrai. Her expression was unreadable. The disapproving energy behind it was not. "I know, my darling." Kane sighed. "You don't have to say it." He frowned, and the smirked. "No, that's right. You can't say it. I suppose that's okay." Frowned again. "No, you don't have to make me feel it. I know, I've lost sight of things. I just feel as if . . ." Kane waved a hand absentmindedly in the air. "As if I've lost my inspirational spirit. Surely you can understand that?" Silence. He glowered. "I guess the theatrics were never your imaginings, were they? Fine. Leave me alone--you wouldn't understand." He placed his fedora over his face, rested his head on his hands, and closed his eyes. With what could only be a sigh, the Darkrai slunk back into the shadows. The darkness seemed to embrace her master, keeping him close. They each were all that the other had left in the world, after all. Losses or wins, failures or successes, it did not matter--Gaigan had thrown her hat into the ring with Kane, and she intended to stick by him, no matter what. And though he powered over her--certainly now that he was one of the few empowered beings left, after the light--he was still family. Both of them knew it. They were alone together. Still, Gaigan had not managed to express her . . . confusion toward her master's current state of mind. It had not been that long ago that he had emerged into the world, beginning his new life with an attempted takeover of Opelucid. They had been foiled, yes, but not in such a way that should have stemmed the tide of his influence. Why, then, had he refused to act again? Even now, with the world at his fingertips--the very town beneath them utterly defenseless--he had done nothing. Why? She did not understand. Perhaps there was truth to his words--a creative block. Or perhaps there was more to it. She simply could not understand. But she did trust him. And if Kane felt that it was impossible now to act, then they would wait together until he decreed it otherwise. It was just a matter of waiting . . . They lay there for some time, both engrossed in their own thoughts. The world was silent. The wind around them crackled. Kane's eyes opened and he shot upward, into a sitting position. The shadows of Gaigan spread around him like a black flame. Her eye appeared on his back; both looked about them, searching. They did not need to speak to each other to know that the other had felt the change in the air, the sudden intensity as something intruded on their space. But nothing and no one was there. Slowly, Kane shifted onto his feet, and then began to rise. A crackle from the trees nearby, and then a flash. With a tug from Gaigan, Kane spun to face it, raising a hand. A barrier of shadow rose in front of him, dissipating as the attack struck it and shattered into sparks. He stared into the trees. A girl stood there, eyes glowing blue and staring straight back at him. Kane's expression turned, muscles loosening into one of bewilderment before morphing into a toothy smile. He tilted his hat. "Mi'lady." She twirled her thumbs together. "You're Kane." Her voice was soft, a velvet blanket to the ears. Soft, and immediately disarming. "That's the name," he said. Gaigan pulsed with clear unease; Kane ignored her. "To whom do I have the pleasure of . . . Well, perhaps speaking isn't the correct term." He rubbed his head. "Nor fighting; I can see this going only one way . . ." His grin returned. "Dominating?" The girl's expression tightened with disgust, though only for a moment. She resumed a neutral mask, taking several steps around Kane, never speaking. Her eyes scanned him top to bottom to top again. Kane's smirk vanished, replaced with an annoyed baring of the teeth. "You going to tell me what you want, lady, or should I just get straight to picking you apart?" "Down." "What?" "I said, down." Kane's eyes narrowed. He rolled his head back, smiling in disbelief. "My dear," he said. "You should congratulate yourself--you have officially broken the world record for quickest demonstration of--" A glow emanated from below. Kane looked down, eyes widening at the sight of the symbol that had appeared beneath him. He raised an arm, pointing at the girl, at the same time that arcs of lightning erupted around him. The electrical attack brought him to his knees, screaming from the pain coursing through his body. He had, however, acted quickly enough to direct Gaigan. The Darkrai shot forward in a swarm of dark tendrils, straight toward the girl. Her massive form materialized about three feet away from her target--too close for any normal individual to react to the swing of her claw. The girl was unperturbed. In an instant, her form had shifted into a massive, cloaked figure, easily eight feet tall. A long, tentacle-like arm spiraled in front of her, wrapping around Gaigan and slamming her into the ground. The Darkrai could not break free, and as the girl squeezed, she found it harder and harder to maintain consciousness. Electric blue eyes glared down at her from behind a white veil; Gaigan did her best to glare back. Soon enough, the girl--no, the monster--turned her attention back to Kane. The man struggled to stand, barely managing to make it into an upright position before falling forward again. She floated toward him, her long arm stretching and leaving Gaigan behind. "That's more like it . . ." The girl's words remained as smooth as ever, though backed now by a multitude of other voices. "Is it unusual for you, subservience?" She reached forward with her free arm, tilting his head up to look at her. "Or perhaps you have never been in power to begin with . . ." "###### you, you b--" Kane's vision erupted into spots of white as her massive hand slapped him back down. He spit onto the ground; blood splattered in the dirt. Kane wiped his mouth. "What . . . What do you want?" "Isn't it obvious?" Her arm wrapped around him, lifting him up. Seeing her face clearly for himself now . . . Kane could not help but recoil in horror. Thankfully, she seemed to ignore this. "I want you. At least, what makes you powerful." He struggled against her grip. She gave him another once-over. "Do you enjoy this, even though you know it's futile?" "No," he growled. Sparks of darkness erupted in his palms, though through his panic he could not maintain them long enough to act. "I--refuse--to--die!" For the first time, Kane felt utterly helpless. The feeling disgusted him, terrified him--and yet there was nothing he could do about it. This creature clamped down on him, Gaigan was useless, and he was powerless. He stopped struggling when the creature let out a breathy chuckle. His breathing slowed somewhat, and he found himself more perplexed than anything. She took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment, and then looking at him again. "Is that what you fear?" She shook her head. "I am not gong to kill you. You possess something . . . compelling. And I want that." A spiraling portal of darkness opened beneath her. She began to sink into it, dragging Kane and Gaigan with her, until the darkness had encompassed them all. "Your voice will join mine, Kane. Isn't that beautiful?" At the edge of the darkness, a crimson light glowed. And though he could try to fight it, flee the ever-approaching red sea, Kane knew: There was no escape from this fate.

​IC - Blackskull/John Ford - VIP Cell Block, The Alamo: "There is a sector of magic called El Naipe--literally 'the card'--that utilizes a system of empowering tokens that are then broken in order to activate a spell," Ford said. "It was well-practiced within the Signs, at least amongst the older generations. Nowadays it has been cast aside in favor of more modern trinkets." The Shadowed Man sighed, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with his sleeve. "The Grimoire is a tool that guided our hand in our pursuits. That is all I will tell you. I like to think that I am not in the habit of sharing secrets with those I haven't deemed necessary to tell." He replaced his glasses on his face. "If your superiors are merely concerned that a loss of power could occur again, then the only answer I can give is, 'Not through my means.' My method was powered through very specific circumstances that are unlikely to ever occur again, and it took decades for the proper parameters to move into place." Ford shifted his attention to Blackskull. "Of course, unless the threat of Missing Zero is dealt with, it won't matter in the slightest." "We're doing what we can," Blackskull responded. "Not well enough, from what I've gathered," Ford said. "But I suppose that is just my opinion." ​IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Living Quarters, Vertrag: "Yeah," Kyle agreed. "Let's finish looking around, find what we're looking for or anything else immediately helpful, and then see about salvaging what we can from here." With a round of agreement, both video feeds ended. Kyle, Chloe, and Emmerich turned back to the hallway. Ten doors lay unexplored before them. The atmosphere of the base made the number seem more daunting than it reasonably should have been. "I'd like to officially suggest that we split up," Emmerich said, breaking the silence. "It seems as if we would have run into traps by now if there were any. All things considered, the living quarters seem like the last place we would find any to begin with." "That's fair," Kyle said. He walked past the second door and down to the fourth, tentatively raising a hand above the door panel. "Let's keep the doors open if we do that, though, in case something does happen and we need to group up fast." "That sounds like a good idea to me, yeah, let's do this," Chloe replied with a smile as she walked over to the panel for the second door. Emmerich nodded. "I've got this one, then." He hit the panel on the third door, opening it and entering. With a wave to Chloe, Kyle entered the fourth room. IC - Sonja Baron - Broadcast Room, Vertrag: Switching off her Pokétch, Sonja turned to Ray and Ryan. "Alright," she said, unable to suppress an amused half-smile. "Want to call and freak out anyone else, or should we explore that last door?"

IC - Blackskull/John Ford - VIP Cell Block, The Alamo: "They won't, because they can't," Ford said. It was as simple as that. He might as well have offered Lohe a croissant. "The recipe for the spell lay within the Grimoire of the Signs, and only the most experienced in the arts possess the ability to reach those depths. Even if someone were to manage it, I suspect it wouldn't give out the same recipe twice, seeing how it failed in its purpose the first time. As for the how . . . Suffice to say that I am a rather gifted magician." IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Living Quarters, Vertrag: This was . . . strange. Two Shadowed Men now occupied the screen. They were soon joined by a third, with one arm held in front of him and the other seeming to press buttons on his raised wrist. He stopped, and a moment later Kyle's Pokétch rang. He answered. Sonja's face projected on the screen. "So . . . You guys are seeing the Shadowed Man on your end?" she asked. Before he had time to answer, she turned the camera. Ray and Ryan stood at a desk. On the surface, Kyle could see the view from Chloe's camera--including himself in the background, communicating with Sonja. "Because it's definitely not him calling you." "Yeah, you guys are . . ." Kyle adjusted his own camera to show Chloe's screen. "How are you guys doing that?" "No idea," Sonja said. "Ray turned this on, so he'd be the one who knows. But this camera set-up is where Ford's been sending out his messages, there's no doubt about that." "I have no words," Kyle said, followed by a sigh. "This place is insane . . ." "To answer the . . . not-Ford's question," Emmerich said. "We've only investigated one room so far. We're fairly certain it belonged to James Pierce. Outside of that, we haven't found anything major, but we're about to head into the next couple. How about you three?"

IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: The phantom of Aori screamed as Tyranitar's jaws closed around her midsection. She struggled futilely against it as the Armor Pokémon jerked his head around, swinging the Instance against the floor and walls. Her form shifted like a distorted video, flickering between Aori, Miyu, and Matthew, to the Nobuddy's real form. For a moment, it changed into the form of a girl in her mid-teens, tanned with brown hair and grey eyes wide with fear. The cloth of her dress fluttered in the air amidst her cries: "Mom! MOM!" With a loud snap from what could only have been either its spine or neck, the creature went limp, and the illusion faded, the distorted screams echoing in minds within the hall before finally coming to a stop, lost to the sirens that continued to blare. IC - Blackskull - VIP Cell Block, The Alamo: Blackskull kept his eyes on Richard the entire way down the hall. The Liberty Leader dialed a number on his Pokétch. "Executive Ladon, increase security presence in the VIP cells," he said. "I do not want anyone near Ford's or Hayes's cells without written clearance CC'd to myself from this point on." He shook his head, ending the call. Ford offered him a look caught between amusement and disappointment. "I was honestly enjoying that," he said. "Do you need something from me? I've heard little about the Power Suit operation, aside from that it did not go as planned." "I have an official from Alola wanting to speak with you," Blackskull responded. "That's all." IC - Scott Stone - Streets, Lavender Town: The night had passed without much fanfare, save for what Scott hoped was only the howling of the wind outside his window. In a town renowned for its ghosts, however, he could not be too certain. Not helping matters, either, was the old newspaper he had found in his room regarding an incident several months ago involving a carnivorous Hypno that had terrorized the area. That had not made it any easier to sleep, and had only served as further fuel for his nightmares about Kai's murder. He sighed, finishing off the last of his coffee. The hotel lobby had been sleepy as he made his way outside, and the streets were, too. It was peaceful, almost. Fruitlessly peaceful; he couldn't relax until they had caught Kai's killer. And not just for Kai, but for the other victims, too--Drake, Roderick, and likely more. With a sigh, he glanced at his Pokétch. 8:32 AM. He wondered whether he should call Lafoyae or give her more time. After a moment, he settled on waiting. Ten more minutes, and then he would fetch her. IC - Ethan Worth/Gavin Braner/Skye Hall - Infirmary, The Alamo: The hospital room was as tiny as ever. Truth be told, as many times as Ethan had already visited, he hadn't felt as welcome as he currently did until this visit. It was different, just hanging out--Gavin and Skye had reconciled, Gavin was no longer hopped up on knockout drugs, the general air of anger was gone. True, Gavin was still bothered by his current case of asymmetry--who wouldn't be?--but all things considered, this was a regular ol' return to normal. So much so that the three currently sat in complete silence. Ethan's arms crossed his chest, Skye fiddled with her thumbs, and Gavin more or less lounged in his bed. They couldn't have been there for more than twenty minutes, but already, Ethan was fidgeting. "So . . ." he said at last. "I think it's time we talk about our next steps." "Yep." Gavin said. "Gonna be a while before I can leave here, though." "That's fine," Ethan said. "We can wait a few weeks." "You sure that's fine? You've waited like a week already." "Pssh, yeah. I've got Stan to entertain me now, no biggy." "It's not--ugh . . ." Skye face palmed. Gavin chuckled. "Let's be real, though, Ethan." The older Agent gave him a confused look. "This isn't what you actually want to talk about right now." "No?" Ethan thought for a moment. Then his face lit up. "Oh. Are you . . . giving me permission?" "Yeah, whatever. Get it out of your system." "What?" Skye looked confused. And concerned. Particularly as Ethan clapped his hands together, jumped to his feet, and then began pacing. He stopped at the foot of Gavin's bed. "I know you're not all right, but at least we've got some of you left." Ethan continued pacing. "What . . .?" Skye gave Gavin a look of pure confusion. Ethan stopped in front of Gavin again. "I take it you're no longer looking to join the army?" Skye double face-palmed. "Oh my lord . . ." Gavin shook his head. "Keep 'em coming, I know you're not done." "If you ever need me to, I'll lend you a hand, pal. Hopefully fighting Missing Zero won't cost you a leg to go with that arm. Although I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you could probably use a little evening up." "##### you, Ethan." "I love you, too, pal!" "I'm going to harm you both." IC - Esen Windred - Living Quarters, The Alamo: The door was right in front of her. All she had to do was raise her knuckles and knock, introduce herself, say something nice . . . Her muscles ached from the thought. Kyle had suggested this, but she wasn't sure it was a good idea--for her or for anyone else. She'd hardly interacted with these people, and they had done the prep work for getting her m--Ace killed. Much as she hated to admit it, she found it difficult to let that go, no matter what Ace had done to her. Esen uttered a quiet growl of frustration, stepping back and pacing down the hall several steps before coming back. "Come on . . ." she muttered. "We can do this . . ." With a deep breath, Esen raised her fist, hesitated and pulled back, and then forced herself to knock on the Alarics' door. There was not an immediate response. Maybe no one was home. Seemed likely--it wouldn't have surprised her at all to discover that the Alarics and Morenos had fled in the night, given what had happened with Goldhawk. If she had anywhere else to go, she likely wouldn't have stayed for so long, either. With a sigh, she turned to leave. The door eased open behind her. Esen turned back. A bright blue eye stared at her from behind the door, framed at the top by locks of jet-black hair. The pale face only emphasized these features further. "H-Hello . . ." "Um . . . hey," she said. "You're Levi, right?" The boy gave a nervous nod. "Hey, you maybe don't remember me, but I'm Esen. I was at the . . ." She trailed off, realizing that mentioning the Egg probably wasn't a good idea. "I'm a friend of Kyle's. He asked me to stop by and check on you." "Oh . . . Yeah, I-I remember." Levi looked down at the floor, opening the door more. He wore another outfit like the one had had worn the last time Esen had seen him--almost a schoolboy uniform. "Did he--" "Levi? Who are you talking to?" A teenage girl popped up behind Levi. Green hair peeked out from underneath a purple bandanna. She wore an ankle brace--support for an injury, if Esen had to guess. Her kind face shifted into a concerned frown at the sight of Esen. She placed her hands on Levi's shoulders, looking around the hall. ". . . Hi. Can I help you?" "Um . . . hi," Esen replied. "I'm . . . No, I'm sorry, I--my friend asked me to check on Levi, I didn't know he was being watched already." "Weeell, he is!" the other girl said. She blushed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm sorry--we're just not supposed to be talking to, like, anyone right now, so it's probably best if you go." "Wait--no, S-Sam!" Levi said. "I-I know her! She's Mr. Kyle's friend!" "I . . . don't know who that is, kiddo . . ." Sam looked between Levi and Esen. She sighed, finally relenting at the look Levi was giving her. "Okay, fine, but if she's actually trouble . . ." "I mean . . . I'm not . . ." Esen said. "Can I come in, then?" Reluctantly, Sam stepped out of the way. Levi looked behind Esen. "I-Is Torith with you?" "Not today, buddy," Esen said. "I have a Pokémon I can introduce you to, though, if you want." She gave a smile to Sam as she passed by, letting the younger girl close the door behind them. IC - ? - Intensive Care, The Alamo: Walking was a pain. The damage from the heat had never quite healed; melted rubber did that. It made it hard to walk, hard to breathe, hard to do much of anything. But the doctors had ordered a discharge after a while, so clearly the damage wasn't too bad, at least in their opinion. Occasional stays were necessary, of course--observations to check the healing process, plans for further grafts and techniques to lessen the damage from spreading any further. It was work, but it provided the freedom to roam, at least. One thing would not heal, however, and that was the ever-burning rage in the chest. Anger, humiliation, dread, betrayal--these things coalesced into a furious flame that spread from the center of the body and out into the very fringes, down to the last nerves in the fingers. Answers had never come--whether the injuries were intentional or accidental--but they no longer mattered. Word had spread; the punishment had been all but revoked without so much as a care given to those affected the most. And why? Because of some 'good work'? Because of 'I didn't mean it' and 'It won't happen again'? Then the realization--it didn't matter what had been damaged, because it could be replaced. The one who had done the damage? Not so much, but as long as there was a promise of restraint--that would suffice, certainly. The cameras were still on. If they weren't, a table could have flipped from the resurgence of anger. But no, no, not yet, not now--the release would come soon. This went higher; someday the next tier down would receive their due, but for now, a kindred spirit--an ironic echo of what had been forgotten--awaited. Lungs hurt, hands hurt, the mind hurt--but they had had some time to heal, and they were good enough. The cameras clicked off. The hallway was empty. It would be a bit--time enough to go and get back. No trail, no suspicion. Everything was accounted for. IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Living Quarters, Vertrag: As the last in line out of the room, Kyle pressed the button to shut Pierce's door behind them. The three stepped across the hallway to the next nearest room. The plaque to this door read '2.' "Three guesses who this one belongs to," Kyle said. Just as Emmerich reached for the door button, Chloe's Poké Gear started ringing. It was an extremely jarring sound in the stillness of the hall up to now. The caller ID displayed an anonymous message. Kyle and Chloe exchanged a concerned look. After a moment, Chloe opted to answer, displaying the call on her Poké Gear's video screen. The sight made Kyle's blood run cold. A silhouetted figure stood in front of a series of white screens, his hands pressed on the desk before him. Though he had only ever seen that same, silhouetted figure in a sitting position during his previous experiences with these calls, Kyle recognized the Shadowed Man's form immediately. He could not help but recall the last time he had personally received one of these calls, just before he had been injured on Four Island. "Ford," he said, perhaps a bit more terse than intended. "They let you out of your cell?" IC - Silvermind/Executive Josiah Lorn/Executive Elena Seaver - Silvermind's Office, The Alamo: "I don't know how much clearer I can be," Lorn said. His exasperation was clear, and Silvermind did not appreciate it. "We need to come up with a solid plan for the Power Suits if we ever expect to see them deployed again." He held up a hand, listing off with his fingers. "We need an established training regiment in their use. We need any operators to know exactly how each Suit and its power module is supposed to be used. We need to ensure that we know exactly what their technical weaknesses are in addition to their Type weaknesses. We need--" "You need a new PR campaign," Seaver summarized. "The One Island mission can hardly be called a success. We know you consider them a trump card, but power isn't everything--you can't just throw Agents into them and expect to beat Missing Zero like that." "One Island was a special circumstance," Silvermind said flatly. "You know that." "Exactly," Seaver said. "We know that. The rest of the world doesn't. And if they see anything else like what happened there . . . Those Suits will never get backing, no matter what you do. Producing more of them can work, but you need a plan first." Silvermind sighed, leaning back in her seat. This conversation had reached these same points about three times already, and each pass only frustrated her further. The issues with the One Island mission had been made clear to her numerous times--she did not need to be reminded about the errors that she, Goldhawk, and the others had made. Still, they had a point, and it was a point she had not given much thought to thus far. "All right," she said. "Suppose that we get a jump on this now. What would be the best--" Silvermind stopped and held up a hand as her landline started to ring. She picked it up. "Silvermind speaking." The two Executives could not make out what the person on the other end was saying, but they could tell from the surprise growing in Silvermind's expression that it was something urgent. She nodded, though did not respond. After a moment, the other end fell silent. They said something--repeating Silvermind's name--and she took a breath. "I understand. I'll be down shortly. Thank you." She hung up the phone, leaving her hand on the receiver for a second before bringing both hands to her chin. The two Executives watched her in silence, dreading the moment she would pass along whatever news she had just received. Finally, Silvermind lowered her hands to the table. "That was Intensive Care. Goldhawk is dead."

IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: The combination of the Servine pulling on its grounded leg, the force of its own kick, and the impact from Tyranitar's Payback knocked the Instance onto its back. It slammed against the floor, appearing--for lack of a better term--winded from the landing. Instead of retaliating, the Nobuddy raised its hands. Its form shifted, and suddenly Miyu lay in front of the Armor Pokémon again, tears streaming down her terrified face. "P-Please d-don't hurt me, T-Tyranitar." Miyu changed into Aori. "Please, Mr. Hikari?" IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - James Pierce's Room, Vertrag: Neither Kyle nor Emmerich had a good answer to Chloe. In all likelihood, the former figured that there hadn't been much of an opportunity to pass the news onto Pierce's brother. From what he had heard in regards to the trial against Pierce, and Piers Ebner's testimony, he didn't get the feeling that the surviving twin would care all that much. Emmerich appeared to think somewhat differently as, with a sigh, he folded the letters and slipped them into his coat. "Well, it might be worth dropping these off in either case," he said. "I don't think he sent these last couple." "We'll see if we ever have time to take another trip to Unova," Kyle said. He rubbed the back of his head. "Onto the next room, then? Doesn't seem like there's much else in here worth looking at." IC - Sonja Baron - Command Center, Vertrag: Neither Sonja nor Ray had an answer to that. They merely exchanged troubled looks at Ryan's question, before Sonja shrugged, and that was that. With that oddly unsettling question on her mind, she approached the door on the wall directly across from where they had entered. In their brief absence from the main room, nothing had changed. Hopefully it stayed that way. She opened the door. Door number two was not anticlimactic. This door opened into what could best be described as a studio. A camera stood, pointed at a silhouetted desk and chair situated in front of a series of screens emitting a constant white light. At a glance, this was nothing particularly special--simply a broadcasting station. But anyone who had seen or received a direct message from the Shadowed Man would recognize it immediately, the signature in each of his videos. "Oh . . . wow . . ." Sonja struggled to find the right words to convey her awe. She stepped cautiously into the room, feeling again that sense of weight in the air that had been present when they entered the command center. "This is . . . I feel like I know a few people who'd kill to be where we are right now . . ."

IC - Executive Scott Stone - Streets, Lavender Town: As much as Scott wanted to keep going, he did not have much choice but to agree with Lafoyae. It had been late enough when they had departed from the Alamo, and the night had only progressed from there, to the point that the sky was already beginning to show the first signs of the morning sun. With a sigh, Scott relented. "I guess we'd better," he said. "We're going to need as much energy as possible if we want to keep investigating, let alone confront our killer." Kai's killer, he mentally corrected himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Scott followed Lafoyae toward the hotel. IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: The Payback impacted the Instance's stomach, knocking 'Miyu' back several feet. The Nobuddy slammed its hand into the ground, tearing through tile as it skidded to a stop. It staggered and stood upright, just in time to throw its hands in front of itself and catch the Tyranitar's jaws mere inches away from its face. Though the Nobuddy's arms shook from the effort, its Strength allowed it to push back against the Armor Pokémon, putting both into a deadlock. It shifted its weight to free its left leg, and with a massive heave managed to Mega Kick directly into the Tyranitar's chest. IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - First Room, Vertrag Living Quarters: The first thing Chloe noticed was that every single picture in the room contained the same subject: Two boys, identical to one another, each with dark brown hair and maroon eyes. Going through, there were pictures of a small family of four, two young boys, both the same age, and their parents. In one, they were posed in front of a large, extravagant house, each well-dressed and well-groomed--too perfect, it seemed. In another, equally posed, they were seated around a fireplace. An older woman holding a cane stood with them in the middle of the family. Their ages differed from picture to picture, but each time, the story presented was the same, progressively more clear the older they got--a smiling, confident boy standing tall and proud next to a sullen and frowning brother. The most recent picture--at least, the one with the oldest set of twins--depicted the two boys in front of the gates to a university. They were older--around fifteen--but still clearly the same people as the other photos. Their expressions--so similar in the other pictures--had taken on a stark contrast in this one. The twin on the left, though clearly pleased with his prestigious accomplishment, bore a look of slight distraction, as if he had been deep in thought just before the picture had been taken. The one on the right, meanwhile, echoed the annoyed look that he had worn throughout all the other photos. This photo, in particular, had been smashed on the messy desk. "Isn't that Pierce?" Kyle asked, peering at the pictures from behind Chloe. "That must be him and his brother. I can't tell which one is which, though." He tilted his head, reading the sign stationed above the gate that they were in front of. "'Heaven's Cloud University.' They look way too young to have been in college." "I'd say crazier things have happened . . ." Emmerich muttered. He had spent his time looking over the various textbooks in the room. "Religion, philosophy, political science, engineering . . . Interesting array of studies . . ." He brushed his fingers through the dust that had accumulated on the desk, grimacing in disgust. The Rocket General reached into his coat, producing a bottle of hand sanitizer. He applied a drop to his palm, rubbing his hands together, and then picked up one of the letters off of the messy desk, falling silent as he read it. He put it down, then moved to the next one. "Our brothers here did not appear to have the best relationship . . ." "Not very surprising," Kyle responded. "What were they saying to each other?" "A lot of outgoing messages from 'Paris', to Piers," Emmerich said. "'Dear Brother, we have been hard at work in our operations . . . It's been hard being away from you, but I trust you to understand my decision . . .' Hm . . . Excuse my paraphrasing--'Dear Brother, our search continues, and today bore a mark of success: We recruited an up-and-coming Champion, our Second. Words cannot describe how I am feeling. I hope your studies are going well.' A lot of vague updates on how Ford's operations were going, a lot of checking in . . ." Emmerich frowned. "'Piers, at this point I can't honestly say how long it has been, but I feel . . . IC - Sonja Baron - Command Center, Vertrag: It took a moment to tear her eyes away from the screens. Sonja had to agree with Ray: However this place worked, it would be an incredibly valuable asset if they managed to bring it around to their side. She made a mental note to secure another visit with Ford later to ask about that. With his cooperation . . . Sonja shook her head. One thing at a time. She gripped the cane tightly in her hands and nodded at Ryan. "Yeah, go ahead and open it." With the press of a button, the door opened. Behind it lay another hallway. On the left-hand wall, at the very end of the hall, stood a door; to the left of that doorway was a large window, looking into what could only be described as an interrogation chamber. A single table with two chairs stood inside. There was nothing else visible in there. On the right-hand wall, meanwhile, stood another door, much closer to the door that they had entered from. They could not see into the room, so Sonja approached--slowly--and opened the door. She was disappointed to find what amounted to a conference room, occupied by a long black table surrounded by ten chairs. A television screen stood at the far end of the table. "Door number one is . . . anticlimactic," Sonja said. Disappointment hung heavily in her voice. "Guess it's onto the next one?"

Specialty sounds good. Also, fun news, my laptop has been in the repair shop since Thursday and may or may not be fixable. Woot.

IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: The sirens in the hatchery were muffled--noticeable, but less obnoxious than everywhere else in the base. Presumably, this was because of the nature of the facility. Even so, a red light bathed the room, on and off as the emergency lights swirled. They coated the girl in the center of the room in an ominous, blood-like glow. Around her, six or seven hatchery operators cowered behind desks and shelves, their horrified gaze settled on Miyu. Through Ryan's camera feed, she was all that he saw--no sign of the monstrosity behind the visage anywhere. "Ryan Hikari," she greeted. "You found me!" Miyu blinked out of existence as her true form appeared in front of Ryan, its hands brought together above its head into a ball. Noiselessly, it brought its fists down, attempting to crush Ryan with its amplified Strength. IC - Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Living Quarters, Vertrag: "Yeah, I've got a couple of theories about that," Kyle called after Ryan as they approached their separate doors. "Although I can't really imagine Ford or his kids hosting very many ragers, so--aaand they're gone." Kyle couldn't suppress a smile. "That is a funny thought, though . . ." "Let's focus on what we're doing," Emmerich said. "What are you thinking about the room discrepancy?" "Well, like I said, I have a couple of theories," Kyle said. "Give me a bit before I share anything, though--no point wasting my breath if I'm wrong." He pressed the singular panel next to the doorway. The doors slid open, a silent action mirroring the rest of the stillness of the base. Before them stretched a very basic hallway, composed of the same material as the rest of the base. Doors lined each wall, alternating from the left side to the right and back again. As Sonja had reported, there were eleven in total--one for each Child, plus two additional. From their position, they could see plaques engraved to the left of each doorway, just above the access panel. Emmerich approached the first room. The plaque simply read '1.' "I suppose we'll start with this one, then? Work our way down?" "Sounds good to me," Kyle said. "Lets us keep close together, just in case." Emmerich nodded and pressed the panel. The door opened, just as silent as the first. Inside was what could best be described as a dorm room. Plain white walls, plain tiling for the floor, both a stark contrast to the sheer blackness of the base up to this point. The room was sort of split into two sections. Upon entering, there was a second doorway to the left, leading to a bathroom, and on the right a small space where two desks and shelves faced each other. The furthest desk from the door was set against a partial wall, across from a split closet space. This wall and the closet essentially served as a doorway separating the desk area from the sleeping area, where two twin-sized beds were set against opposite walls. All things told, it appeared as if two individuals occupied this room. Both desks and shelf sets were adorned with books and various electronic devices, as well as numerous pens and other office supplies. But where one desk was kept perfectly tidy, the other was a total mess--nothing organized, books piled haphazardly. The only mess present on the other desk were a few crumpled papers and a pen that had been long abandoned on a half-written letter. Pictures lined the shelves. On the messy table, similar pictures stood with broken frames, the glass of each one cracked. The beds were a similar story--one perfect, the other a mess, like its occupant had never enjoyed a night without fitful sleep. Kyle stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight. "Wow. Not . . . what I was expecting to find here." IC - Sonja Baron - Command Center, Vertrag: In spite of the conversations around her, Sonja had to steel herself for a moment before opening the door. They were about to embark into the deepest depths of John Ford's base--the Shadowed Man himself. That fact hadn't quite hit her until now. Somewhere beyond this door would lie his darkest secret of all, the source of his knowledge and power. It was hard to deny the feeling of sheer awe at this realization. Sonja took a deep breath and pushed the button. The door slid open and she, Ryan, and Ray stepped inside. They emerged into a large room. At a glance, it was not unlike Team Liberty's Command Center: Square in shape, with a raised circular platform in the very center of the room. On this platform were two seats, each in front of a large, semi-circular control panel. Dozens of screens descended from the ceiling on mechanical arms, all of them currently black. Around the outer walls of the room stood many more control panels and monitors, each specialized for some unknown purpose. They were broken apart on each of the four walls by a door in the very center. Leaving aside the door they had just entered through, that left three other rooms connected to this one--possibly more. "This is it," Sonja said, her gaze slowly and nervously sweeping across the room. "This is where the Shadowed Man pulled all those strings . . ."

IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: Whether or not she was capable of bringing herself to do it, it didn't matter. The door to the hatchery erupted from its hinges, sending shards of metal and glass in every direction. An alarm blared. The next instant, the heavy slab of broken metal shifted and flew through the illusory form of Matthew, straight at the agents standing in front of him. IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Vertrag: "Well . . ." Sonja moved over to the kitchen counter, simultaneously pulling her bag over her shoulder. She picked through the drawings and papers inside, finally producing a blank sheet. She uncapped a marker and made a rough sketch of everything they had seen so far in the base. In the center, she drew a circle. "We're right here." Off of one doorway, closest to the kitchen, she drew a rectangle representing a hallway. "This is through there--the living quarters." Past the other door, off the living room space, she scribbled in a giant, black question mark. "And this is probably what Ray's talking about." "'Probably'?" Kyle asked. "Yeah. Probably." Sonja shrugged. "We had pretty free reign of the place between this area and the living quarters. But beyond that other door, no idea. Only Hayes and Adams ever went in there. Pierce, McKinley, and Ford, too, whenever we saw them, but that wasn't that often." "So it's a mystery door, got it," Kyle said. "What about the living quarters? Did everyone have their own room? Did Ford have a room?" "I think so. I can't imagine him just sleeping on the floor somewhere." Sonja drew short lines down the hallway to represent doors, alternating between the two long, parallel walls. "I know that there were eleven rooms in total. If the rest were anything like mine, they had storage and a bathroom inside, not unlike the single-person rooms at the Alamo. I don't think Ford has a room in that part of the base, though--everyone else does, but I never saw him come or go from there." She shook her head. "Honestly, we could probably skip the living quarters entirely and just go into the secret section." "I don't think we should," Emmerich said. "Ford has used this base for a long time. We might find something useful in his 'Children's' rooms." "Or at least something to explain where some of them came from, like McKinley." Kyle looked at the door to the living quarters. "I don't mind poking around in there if the rest of you want to search for his lab or whatever." He set Bounty's cane on the counter. "Probably going to want to take this with you, too. Just be sure not to break it." Sonja (jokingly?) rolled her eyes, then grabbed the cane. "Alright. Well, I'm heading in with whoever wants to come with. Let me know if you find anything."

IC - Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: Pain. A genuine expression of pain crossed 'Matthew's' face at Madison's threat. The boy took a step back, clutching a hand to his chest. He raised his other hand. He looked hurt. Now it was physical. The memory of what had occurred gave his wounds life. They crept onto his image. Behind him, the heavy metal door to the hatchery creaked. The metal bowed. Cracks spread across the window. "Madison," Matthew said. "It's me." Blood trickled from his brow. "Why are you doing this to me?" He looked from Madison to Dack. "Dack. Please. Stop her. Why is she doing this to me?" IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Vertrag: Their descent felt as if it had lasted an eternity; how far down had they gone? There was no way to tell from inside the elevator--no windows to watch the passing dirt, no lights or displays to indicate how deeply they had burrowed into the earth. It was a timeless casket falling ever deeper into a pit with no end. If Ford's base, all this time, had truly remained so tucked away into the nothingness of the earth . . . Well, Sonja couldn't say that she was surprised that no one had ever managed to access it, let alone figure out where the door was hidden. At long last, the elevator stopped. For several tense moments, stretched across paranoid minds, nothing followed their abrupt stop. The six trainers stood in the dimly illuminated black box with little but the sounds of their own breathing for company, uncertain of what they were waiting for. Eventually, their unwilling patience was rewarded. Six pairs of rings appeared on the surface of the elevator, matching the gaze of each occupant--wall, floor, or ceiling. The rings settled and flashed, expanding into a brief identification notice--a rounded rectangle headed with each trainer's name, followed by a scrolling fact sheet displaying their age, their faction, hometown, family information, last known Pokémon team configuration. Ray's and Sonja's flashed orange and pink, respectively, and then blinked out of sight; the other four soon followed, flashing white. The doors opened. The base itself seemed to be composed of the same substance as the elevator, a solid black material somewhere between metal and rock that invisibly emanated a soft light. The hallway stretching before them, about ten feet long, was thus simultaneously dark, yet light. The other end of the hall opened into what appeared to be a large living area, a merging of a basic den and a kitchen. Black leather furniture filled the space; from the elevator, Sonja could see the back of the couch she had become somewhat familiar with in her time here. It was as much of a home to the Children and Ford as the Alamo had become to her, Kyle, and countless others. Despite the silent foreboding that permeated the space, she was certain it had its own sort of charm to it, given enough time. Two doorways led into other sections of the base--the living quarters on one wall, and what she could only guess was Ford's mission center through the adjacent. She stepped into the hallway. Five steps forward, she became aware of everyone else still standing in the elevator. Sonja turned back, placing a hand on her hip. "Are you guys coming or not?" Kyle couldn't help but jump at her voice. "Y-Yeah, I . . ." He glanced at her, and then looked back at the elevator wall, before forcing himself to follow. "Sorry, I'm just . . . I knew Ford had a lot of information on everyone, but that identification thing . . . It had pieces that I'm pretty sure I haven't even told anyone." He looked around at the hall. "It's like this place itself is . . ." Kyle trailed off, clearly uncertain how to express what he was thinking. "It's uncomfortable," Emmerich said. "Like this place itself is observing us. No doubt a trait it picked up from Ford. We should be careful."

IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Mt. Silver, Johto: It hardly took a touch from Ray to elicit a reaction. The rune glowed a bright, ethereal green. From its center, glowing lines spider-webbed outward, etching into the surrounding stone and air. Before their very eyes, the lines formed a three-dimensional box, which slowly filled in with texture and detail. Soon the light faded to reveal a tall, ebony elevator. A stunned silence fell on the group as Sonja, Kyle, and Emmerich gathered with the others. "Wow," Kyle said at last. "That's . . ." "Definitely magic," Sonja said. "And definitely what we're looking for." Without a second thought, she stepped toward the elevator. The doors opened, allowing her inside. "Come on. We're going down." IC - "Miyu"/Nobuddy - Hatchery, Vermilion Rocket Base: 'Miyu' tilted her--its?--head at Dack. The little girl in front of them looked pleasantly confused. The six-foot-tall figure behind the illusion, legs currently wrapped in Shannon's arms, bore no such expression. It tilted its head, impassive, staring with an eyeless face at Dack. Miyu's form shimmered, and a familiar boy appeared in her place. "Dack?"

IC - Executive Scott Stone - Memory House, Lavender Town: "I--yeah, but . . ." Scott struggled to find a response. With an exasperated sigh, he followed Lafoyae out of the Memory House. "Okay, so what do you suggest we do next?" IC - Receptionist - Front Desk, Team Rocket Vermilion Base: It took some time for the receptionist to even begin to recover from Dack's violent arrival. "I--um--a missing kid? No, I-I can't say so, no, uh . . ." She scrambled for a notepad and a pen. "Um, what's her--what does she look like?" Her pen moved quickly and shakily as she wrote down Dack's description--white hair, pale skin, tealish dress with purple trim. "Okay, um--let me call security really quick, one sec." The phone rang just as she was reaching for it, prompting another jump from surprise. The receptionist gathered her bearings and picked it up. "Front desk, can you please hol--" she cut herself off. "Wait--no, never mind, I was just about to call you. Did you happen to--" She fell silent as the person on the other end spoke. "No, I--that's the first I've heard. Why would any cameras be shutting down? It's not the riot outside, right?" The receptionist offered a confused look to Dack. "No, that's--I'll get Section 2 to look into it right now, but--wait, no, don't hang up yet! You haven't seen a little girl running around on the security cameras, have you?" A pause. "Okay--okay, I'll--got it. Thanks. Yes, I'll call Section 2 in a second. Bye." She hung up and looked at Dack. "I'm sorry, sir, your daughter isn't on any feeds right now," she said. "But we just had some cameras go down near the hatchery not too far from here, maybe she's there? If you can wait I'll have some guards from that section here shortly to help you look." IC - Blackskull/John Ford - Ford's Cell, The Alamo: Nothing extraordinary happened on the way to the prison block. As usual, the VIP sector wasn't terribly busy, owing to the fact that with Vert's recent relocation back into her old office, only around four cells were currently occupied--one by the Searcher Commander Kayne Koden; one by the top Searcher himself, having recently reappeared through a strange portal and brought to Liberty's leadership; another by Ford-follower Madison Hayes; and the last by the big fish, the one behind the current worldly mess--John Ford, the Shadowed Man. Of course, "not terribly busy" did not mean "quiet." In a strange turn away from the norm, the sound of . . . some sort of interrogation echoed down the halls to the elevator, coming from the direction of Ford's cell. Blackskull offered a bemused look to Lohe before leading him further toward the source of the noise. Turning the corner, the Liberty Leader was astounded to see a man at the door to Ford's cell, alternating between asking questions and demanding answers of the Shadowed Man. For his part, Ford seemed to be holding up fairly well, though it was clear from his expression that he did not quite know how to react to what was happening. Blackskull cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he called. "What is the meaning of this?" IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Mt. Silver, Johto: "No, I feel that, too," Sonja called. "Do as Ray says and turn left, Onix." "Man, you guys are demanding," Kyle said over his shoulder. He leaned down closer to the Onix's head. "Take a left, Vailian. Just go where Ray and Sonja say." He looked back over his shoulder. "You can call him 'Vailian,' by the way!" "Alright," Sonja responded. She couldn't quite describe it, but the pulling sensation was getting stronger--like the sensation of pushing two magnets against each other. And with the speed they were moving . . . "Vailian, stop!" The sudden jolt almost sent his passengers flying. Kyle made a mental note that they would need to work on that. They had arrived a little bit up from the base of Mt. Silver. All around them, mountains blocked the view of the horizon. The morning dew glistened in the sun. One by one, each trainer hopped off of Vailian's back. Kyle recalled the Onix, looking around. "Is this it?" Kyle asked. "I don't see anything." Sonja took a few steps forward, momentarily silent. "I'm not sure, but . . . I think so," she said. "I can't explain it, but I feel something here." She seemed to stare into space for a few moments. "Fan out, but keep close. Just . . . look for anything unusual."

IC - Executive Scott Stone - Memory House, Lavender Town: A young albino girl with an affinity for Ghost-Types. Scott almost couldn't believe how spot-on that assessment had been. Only a few hours before, he had been grasping at straws trying to get any sort of read on Drake and Kai's murdered. Now she stood in front of him, a strange and remarkably helpful phantom flat-out guiding the way toward the culprit. "South of here would be the road toward Fuchsia City," he muttered, pulling out his notepad again and writing the information down. "She'd be bound to standout outside of this town--I'm sure we can get a lead on her there . . ." IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Campsite, Route 45: Ryan's choice of words did not go over Sonja's head, either. Like Chloe, she opted not to bring it up, instead nodding her thanks to Ray and sending out Tanith. Silently, she fed the Revive to the Tyrunt, who opened her eyes in a startle as the item's effects washed over her. Just on the edge of the campsite, Kyle had done the same with the Onix he had caught, yelping in surprise as the giant rock snake growled its thanks and flipped its new trainer onto its back. "Ow . . ." Kyle righted himself on Onix, rubbing his back. "Well . . . Whenever we're ready to go, I guess we've got a train through the rest of the mountains." "That's fortunate," Emmerich said. He hefted his bag. "I believe the kids these days would say . . . 'Hecka sweet'?" Everyone stared at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief. Emmerich quickly grew uncomfortable, cleared his throat, and wordlessly approached Onix, climbing on. Soon enough, the others had gathered their belongings and joined him, departing the campsite.

IC - Executive Scott Stone - Memory House, Lavender Town: Ominous. Probably a trick and nothing more. Still, Scott was taken aback enough that he instinctively placed a hand on Ancient's Poké Ball. It seemed likely that Drake Masters had not been killed by ghosts, but it never hurt to be ready, just in case. IC - Blackskull - Blackskull's Office, The Alamo: Lohe's tale was . . . unexpected. It took Blackskull a moment to process it, and even longer to register the whiplash from Lohe's shift in focus. After a moment, he couldn't help but smile, before breaking into a hearty laugh. "You know what? I like you." Blackskull rose to his feet. "If you have time, we can go meet Ford himself right now. My treat." He moved to the computer on his desk, using it to send a message to the prison sector about his impending arrival. Then he stood again, gesturing for Lohe to follow him to the elevators outside his office. "There's a man named Tatum Armbruster. Nice guy, very large. He lives in Keturi. I can give you the address to his cafe once we're done here." IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Campsite, Route 45: Sonja nodded. "Then let's finish eating and get everything packed up. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we find the base, and the sooner we're out of the open." "The Pokémon are both fine, though," Kyle said, nudging Chloe with a smile. "Sonja's taking care of the dinosaur and I'm taking care of the Onix. Once we get there, Sonja thinks we should be able to find a healing machine." He pulled the Onix's Poké Ball from his belt. "Actually, I wanted to ask--do any of you happen to have any healing items on you? I've got a couple of basic Potions, but they're pretty useless without a Revive."

​IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Campsite, Route 45: "What concerns me about it is that it seemed to be using attacks," Sonja said. "If it was a Pokémon, it shouldn't have been able to right now." She tapped her fork against her hand as she spoke, but finally shook her head and stabbed the prongs into her eggs. "You're right, though. If it finds us, it finds us, so the best we can do is be ready for it." Emmerich nodded. "Our best bet would be to continue on our way and do what we can do avoid detection," he said. "If we can stop an engagement before it happens, none of this will be of concern."

IC - Sonja Baron/Kyle Eston/Emmerich Coleman - Campsite, Route 45: "Something attacked an Onix and a Tyrunt down in that valley last night," Sonja said. "Kyle was with me. We didn't get a good look at it, but it didn't look like anything I've ever heard of or seen before, and it took off south after almost killing both of them." She looked at Kyle. "I'm guessing it didn't come back on your shift?" Kyle shook his head. "So it may not be an immediate danger, but . . . Basically, we should be careful going forward."