In order to get the most out of this, you need to have played Emerald version. If you haven't, then I'm sorry for writing a terrible and incomprehensible tale.

Simon was sitting back in his chair at the head of table, his face impassive as he tapped his foot impatiently on the marble floor. He kept glancing at his watch, as if he each little peek would miraculously speed the flow of time. But instead, it had the adverse effect of making him even more impatient.

Around the rest of the table, his staff also waited, though considerably less impatiently. To the untrained eye, they were a laughably ragtag bunch -wearing outrageous outfits like martial arts uniforms, lab coats, and safari outfits that clashed with Simon's crisp business suit- but they all knew that they were among the most feared and respected trainers in the world. They were Hoenn's Frontier Brains.

Well, only about half of them were truly Frontier Brains- the rest were assistants, aides, and deputies.

Olivia was one such deputy. She stifled a yawn as she lifted her mug of coffee to her mouth, obliviously sloshing it and spilling a few drops on the sleeves of her lab coat. After taking a large gulp of the long-cold coffee, she slumped down, not feeling any more awake than before. Beside her, Roger, the head of the Battle Factory, elbowed her stiffly in the side. When that got no response, he elbowed her again and hissed into her ear.

"Olivia, sit up. We need to act professional."

At this, Olivia mumbled a response.

"Look around you," she mumbled as she gestured to the rest of the table. "Nobody else is trying to look professional."

This was true. Some of the others had their heads down and were snoring loudly, others talked amongst themselves or read magazines, and still others simply shoveled food into their mouths.

But Roger persisted. "Look, I could care less about what the others are doing. Please, just sit up. We need to be on Simon's good side," he whispered, his voice taking on a hint of desperateness.

Olivia reluctantly sat up, which made Roger instantly relieved. She snuck a glance at the head of the table. Simon didn't seem to have noticed; he was still staring at his watch, tapping his foot.

Suddenly, the phone in front of Simon buzzed. He instantly jabbed the speaker button.

"Mr. Simon, the trainers have arrived," said his secretary.

"Send them in immediately," he growled, and then hung up.

As if under a spell, everyone in the room instantly ceased what they were doing, sat up, and turned their heads to gaze the door. Olivia and Roger focused on the door more intently than the others. For all they knew, the people who walked through that door could be their replacements.

A few seconds later, the door slowly creaked open, and in walked three people. Olivia nearly laughed at their appearance before she reminded herself that was wearing a coffee-stained lab coat.

The first one through the door was a young man walking with long, confident strides with a goofy grin plastered on his face. But that wasn't what made the people seated at the table stare. Rather, it was the fact that he was wearing a zoot suit.

Right behind him was a teenage girl who seemed to exude so much confidence and arrogance that they were practically oozing off of her tanned skin. Thankfully, her eyes were hidden behind obnoxious-looking sunglasses.

And following her was another young man about as old as the first. But the similarities ended there. This individual walked with shy, tentative steps; his most distinguishing features were his green, sickly complexion and his ashen-colored great coat.

The three newcomers marched to the front of the room and stood behind Simon's chair. Simon pressed a button on his phone, and his secretary walked in with a screen and a projector, which she immediately set up. The first slide of the presentation displayed a line graph with an arrow sharply going down.

"As you may have already noticed, our Battle Frontier's profits have been steadily decreasing since the openings of Sinnoh's and Johto's battle frontiers," said Simon as he traced his finger along the red line. His finger halted at the last point plotted on the graph.

"You can see here that last month's profit was barely a profit at all; we came darn close to breaking even."

He then traced his finger downwards again, to a point marked 'Estimated Profit - July'. It was in the negatives.

"This graph is one month old. So according to our accounting office, the Battle Frontier will cease to become profitable sometime this month."

Everyone sucked in a breath. To Olivia, it sounded like someone had turned a super-powered vacuum for just half a second.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Judging by your reactions, none of you knew how bad it was. Well, I'm here to tell that I haven't known about it for too long, either, only about six months. That's when I had to come up with ideas to save this place."

The next slide, a graph of expenses, came up. This graph's line was relatively flat and stable compared to the last graph's.

"Now, this is a graph of our expenses. As you can see, it is relatively stable."

The secretary pressed a button, and another line appeared on the graph labeled 'Estimated Expenses w/ Non-Essential Spending'. It was only slightly lower than the original line.

"Even if we were to cut non-essential expenses, such as street lighting, the pokemon centers, the Smeargle Cave, and general maintenance, we would still only be reducing expenses by about ten percent. Not nearly enough to save the Frontier. And cutting those expenses would also have the adverse effect of driving away our visitors."

The secretary pressed another button. A line labeled 'Estimated Expenses w/ Culled Facilities' appeared. This one was a lot lower than the original line.

"As you can see, cutting low-profit battle facilities would have significantly decreased our expenses," he said, with a plaintive look towards Olivia and Roger, which made them both cringe. "However, it would have been too little, too late. Our financial situation was too far downhill by the time I got word of our little problem."

A new slide appeared. This one had pictures of three buildings on it. One was fantastic-looking, being completely covered with neon lights and other ostentatious decorations. The next was relaxing and welcoming, resembling almost an amusement park. The third was dreary and dank-looking; Olivia noticed that it was the only picture that was taken at night.

"You may or may not have noticed three new buildings being constructed in the Frontier. They will open tomorrow. These are new battle facilities: the Battle Casino (he pointed to the light-covered building), the Battle Resort (he pointed to the amusement park-like facility), and the Battle Vault (he pointed to the dreary-looking building). These three facilities are my gamble. They will either save the Frontier or drag us down. My analysts predict that these facilities, if successful, will bring enough profit to stabilize the Frontier's financial situation and eventually return us to a time of prosperity."

He paused. "These three trainers," he said as he waved at the three people standing behind him, "will be the new Frontier Brains. I expect you to treat them with the utmost respect. The survival of the Battle Frontier is dependent on their success."

Olivia grimaced. None of the three looked capable of running a profitable battle facility, let alone facilities that needed to rake in hundreds of thousands of dollars in the next few months; the one in the zoot suit was too silly, the one with the sunglasses was too haughty, and the one in the great coat was too shy.

"This meeting is over. Return to your facilities, but look sharp. Just because we had this early staff meeting doesn't mean we won't open on time."