Chapter IV
It's my dad. It has to be. He lived and got away from the Flare and will escape Lumiose City with us.
I make a move to whip the door open but the professor shoves his palm to my chest, stiff-arming me.
"What did I just say, boy?" he half whispers half snarls. "Keep your wits about you!" He glares at me from behind his dark glasses, a powerful gaze coming from someone who looks like he belongs with the Flare. I nod. "Follow my lead."
He opens the door.
Cold air rushes inward, and we're face to face with two Flare goons. They wear leather jackets that match ours, though theirs are shiny and wet from hours of being out in the snow. The name patches on each are too frosted over to read. One of them is a burly man with buzzed, reddish-brown hair. The other is a black haired woman, and they both wear dark sunglasses similar to the professor's. The light of the setting sun reflects blindingly off the snow behind them and I'm actually glad to be wearing the aviators.
I shouldn't have expected it to be my father. I feel crushed by disappointment. But I maintain my composure.
"Gammond. Moore." The woman nods at us in greeting, reading our name patches. "Were you two not at tonight's conference? This sector's been spoken for." She was neither hostile nor friendly toward us.
"Missed it. We were scheduled for patrol tonight. Drayvin requested we make a stop here on our route, give the scientist a friendly reminder of the work he owes us at the end of the week." The professor adopts an entirely new voice to speak to this woman—one full of arrogance and boredom. It amazes me, given that he's always so chipper and usually tripping over his words.
"That fool," the woman sighs. "Vic gave us the same request. Seems like Drayvin and she haven't been communicating in the least since he was transferred in. We've been receiving overlapping orders from each of them all week."
"Us too," says the professor. "Not that there's ever been much order to Vic's ways . . . but now it seems even less so with this new guy running around, imposing commands."
"Ain't that the truth," the reddish-haired man snickers in agreement. "I hear this new admin killed a kid the other night though. At least he's got the spine for the job."
"Yeah, I heard about that too," I chip in, marveling at the irony. I hold my hands behind my back in nervousness.
"Those two better find their groove soon, or I'm gonna lose it," says the woman. "But if all's taken care of here, we'll be moving on. Which direction was your route taking you?"
"We were about to finish up with the outer circle then report back to the Tower," says Ashoka.
"My partner and I were on our way to the eastern gates for our shift swap," the woman says. I realize our routes correspond. "Seems like we'll be making the trip as a group."
I step out into the cold. Ashoka follows, pulling the door to his lab shut behind him. I don't want to walk with them. I have a thousand questions for the professor, my main one being—why are you so good at this? But I guess they'll have to wait.
"The name's Sheera, by the way," the woman says. "This muscle here is Minno." She pats the hulking man on the shoulder. His name does not suit him.
"Tony," says the professor.
"Chesper," I say, nodding to the both of them.
The four of us begin walking. Most of the snow that had previously buried the streets has been melted down by the Flare's Pokémon, making the trip easier, but it is still below freezing out. The wind bites at my face and I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering. I'm thankful it's no longer snowing.
"So did we miss anything of importance at the conference today?" Ashoka asks, not truly sounding interested. I know it's an act. Any information of the Flare's is vital.
"Pssh," Minno scoffs. "Nothing is ever new at those stupid meetings. Same shit, different day. Waste of time."
"Potential sighting of a couple trainers up to the north," Sheera says. "Nothing of concern though. Vic already sent cutthroats. Says the pair will be dead by tomorrow. Other than that just the usual yammer—" She puts on a fake, imitating voice, "—anyone out past curfew? Kill 'em. Anyone trying to leave the city? Kill 'em. Anyone in your way? Kill 'em."
"Trainers, eh?" The professor's interest is piqued. "How do they know?"
"RWPs 'round the belt," Sheera answers. "Giveaway."
"Wonder where they came from," he ponders.
RWP. It's not a term I've heard used often, but one I know from my father. It's simply a shortened way of saying, "Red and white Poké Ball." Ever since the Flare rose to power, it's been a term used to differentiate between the main two Poké Balls in the region: my kind, and their kind. But if those Poké Balls really were spotted on others . . . there are still trainers in Kalos. The news is uplifting . . . but the fact that they've been noticed and are already scheduled to be assassinated . . . They're to the north. It must be why the professor instructed me to go to the northern entrance if we get separated. He knows. His plan has to include meeting with them.
It's getting dark, right around the time when my father and I would be locking up for the night. I hear other citizens doing so—deadbolts being forced into place behind doors, blinds flurrying closed. I'm ashamed to wear the Flare insignia. I know people are looking out at me in disgust. I was one of those people only nights ago.
We keep walking. My stress builds with every step.
My worst fear at the moment is that we'll run into an innocent citizen and be forced to play along with Sheera and Minno—to have to attack and possibly kill someone. I wouldn't be able to do it. I'd blow our cover.
"How's your route been tonight?" Sheera asks us.
"Boring," says Ashoka.
Minno laughs.
"You two been out long?" she asks.
"Since noon," the professor says.
"Stuck with the eight-hour, eh?" Minno remarks.
"Unfortunately," I say. I speak only when it's an easy comment to make. I'm afraid I'll say something absolutely ridiculous that will give us away otherwise. I'd prefer to just stay silent but that may come off as unusual too.
I'm met with immense relief when we finally reach the southern gates. We don't have to travel with these two any longer. The professor and I part ways with the Flare duo without much being said between us. Not like I want to speak to them more than I have to anyway.
We head toward Lumiose Center. I glance around and over my shoulder before beginning my chain of questions that I know is very un-Flare-like. When deemed safe, I say quietly to the professor, "So who's Vic?"
He speaks as quietly as me. "She's the current Flare chieftain in Lumiose. Her reign falls within the city. Sending those 'cutthroats' too far past the gates is a risk on her part . . ." he says mostly to himself. I know he's thinking of the mysterious trainers. "Could vex the nearest chief if jurisdictions overlap . . ." he pauses for a moment, brow furrowed, then continues speaking in a low voice. "Drayvin is her number two administrator, brand new, you know, I'm sure you remember him."
"Yeah. Sounds like they've been clashing."
"It does, indeed," Ashoka muses. "Makes it easier for us to have excuses for being somewhere we shouldn't be. Just say Drayvin sent us, if need be."
"Good point," I say.
We approach a pair of Flare agents and our conversation halts. We don't break our stride, however, and pass them without a word. We blend in. It's strange, the freedom of being out at night without a lump of panic in my throat. The night air is crisp and rejuvenating. I'm tempted to take off my sunglasses, but I know maintaining the identity of Chesper Moore is essential. The tint's not that bad, and I've seen countless Flare thugs wearing their shades after dark.
"I know you said before you had a plan," I begin when out of earshot of anyone else, "would you mind filling me in, professor?"
"Only when we're out of the city, when we're truly safe," he says. "I promise to give you all the details. Until then, it's simply get Fury and get out. We mustn't delay." He looks at his watch. I do the same out of curiosity. The time reads 1922. It certainly doesn't feel like an hour and a half have passed since I last looked at the time.
"At the Tower," I say, "do you know where to find her?"
"No. And I only suspect Fury is there because when I witnessed the Flare capture her, I overheard Drayvin reporting to someone higher-up that he had finished doing so. The only person higher up than Drayvin is Vic. Vic wouldn't be anywhere other than the Tower. If my logic follows through then Fury is with Vic, presumably—err—training, preparing for field work . . ."
The thought of any harm being done to Fury is enraging.
"Professor I hope you're right about her being here," I say, growing distressed. "I don't want to spend all night searching Lumiose because every second that I'm not with Fury is one more second that they can do whatever they want to her, and I can't live with that."
I can't see his eyes from behind his glasses, but his voice is a mixture of pride and sorrow when he says to me, "You sound just like your father."
"James! James! You must calm down!" Ashoka insisted. "Going after them in a blind fury will solve nothing."
He wouldn't listen.
"Calm down? You expect me to calm down? Do you not understand what they've done?" he backlashed. "They are thieves and murderers! Lucario is gone and Gyarados and Flareon are dead! Not just fainted—dead. Look at me for goodness' sake!" James furiously extended his arms and faced the professor. His arms were cut and bleeding, his face raked with claw marks. His clothes were torn and his bluish-gray hair was in disarray. "If I had lingered a moment longer I'd be dead too."
"Which is why you're in no shape to go after them," Ashoka countered. "You need to recover."
"I'll start recovering when I have Lucario back." James ran a shaky hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten the mess.
"You're not thinking clearly, James. You can't do this alone."
"I've still got half my team left," he said, placing a hand on the three remaining Poké Balls at his side.
"But with your full team you were nearly killed! Now you're wounded and down to half. You truly think this is the best idea?" Ashoka was growing angry with the man.
"You don't get it—!"
"—I don't get it?" the professor cut in, taken aback. "What do I not get, James? Loss, death? Having the things I care most about in this world stolen from me? Have you forgotten the trainer I once was before I, too, was robbed by these monsters?"
"No, no," James sounded regretful. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just . . . every moment that I stay here and do nothing is a moment more that they can do god-knows-what to Lucario. To any Pokémon. They are not trainers, they're torturers. And sitting idly by while the world continues down this path is just not something I can live with. The Flare are only growing stronger, and waiting is not going to stop them. There's no time to heal. I'm going back out there right now and defeating those bastards so that my son can have a future, so that my wife can live without fear, so that my Pokémon did not die in vain."
"James you have a noble cause but you're spewing insanity." Ashoka tried to persuade him. "I'm on your side, but listen to yourself. You intend to singlehandedly defeat an entire army? The Flare even overpowered the Rogues. Remember why Jaseph Darcy disbanded the alliance? Because it was too dangerous. They will kill you, James. Think of your family. You want to leave them like this?"
James hesitated. He looked down at the vacant Poké Ball in his palm that was once a home to Lucario. After a moment he snapped the Poké Ball shut, tucked it inside his jacket, and met the professor's eyes. "When I hugged my son goodbye this morning," he said slowly, "I had a team of six Pokémon with me. I am not going back as the man who gave up halfway through the fight—I will finish this battle. Now are you going to help me or am I going alone?"
From what my father used to tell me, the Tower was once known as Prism Tower. It was beautiful—supposedly. Before the uprising of the Flare, it was an architectural masterpiece, a spiraling structure of steel that reached toward the sky. At night it would illuminate. Lumiose City was named for it.
I've only ever known the Tower as the ugly skyscraper in Lumiose Center where the Flare headquarters is situated. A massive banner drapes eternally over the front of the building, displaying the Flare insignia to the city . . . reminding the people of who's in charge. As a show of their power, the Flare destroyed the actual Prism Tower when they took over, burnt it to the ground. They built this ugly monstrosity in its place.
The closer we get to it the more nervous I grow. The professor must sense it.
"Keep your cool, Lucan," he says quietly to me. "Remember, be at the northern gates by twenty-four hundred."
"You say that as if you're sure we will get separated," I say anxiously.
"Well, Gammond has been missing a lot longer than Moore has. I fear they may be growing suspicious. I've been using Gammond's name for over a month now . . ."
"To do what?" I'm genuinely surprised by this news. "And where is the actual Tony Gammond?"
"That's none of your concern," he says quickly. "At any rate Moore's only been de—err—missing a few days. No one will have taken notice, so you're in the clear. Gammond's identification card may be flagged since he's been missing in action for such a duration of time. I'll deal with whatever comes my way if that is the case. You'll need to find Fury."
Panic rises within me as he speaks. "And how am I supposed to do that? I thought we were going to be together," I say harshly.
"I've never actually been in the Tower so it's hard to say what we're stepping in to. All I know is that the chief's center of operations is on the top floor," he tells me. "Perhaps from there you can get an idea as to where Fury is, or where captured Pokémon are taken in general. Try to avoid running into her though. And don't look so damn worried, you'll raise alarm. I doubt anyone's noticed Gammond's absence anyway," the professor ends his ramble on a word of optimism, but sounds doubtful.
We're too close to the Tower to continue the conversation. I do my best to swallow my anxiety.
As we approach the building I notice a Flare guard leaning next to the entrance, lazily smoking a cigarette. A Mightyena rests at his feet in boredom. It's their Pokémon of choice. We pass the guard without so much as a word or glance, push through glass doors, and step into the Tower. I have a dreadful feeling that I'll never see the outside world again as the doors swing shut behind us.
I didn't realize how cold I was until we're inside the muggy building. The interior is shabby and poorly lit. It reeks of cigarette smoke—I do my best not to cough. The entryway is a narrow hallway and an electronically controlled gate runs across it, preventing us from moving any further into the building without first speaking to the bearded man at our right. He sits lethargically with his combat-booted feet propped up on his desk, reading a newspaper.
"Identification cards," he says without looking at us. He has a thick accent. The professor and I each reach inside of our jackets and pull out the cards, placing them on the table in front of the man who doesn't do so much as offer his hand to take them.
After a few moments of him simply reading the news, he puts the paper down and picks up the professor's card. "Sorry. Had to finish my article." He sounds insincere. The man lifts the card and compares it to the professor. My heart races. I watch the professor from behind my aviators, his face shows no emotion.
After an approving grunt the grizzly man swipes the card through the computer. He gives the card back to the professor and lazily waves him toward the gate. "Wait for the green light then push through, you know how it works."
But there is no green light. The computer suddenly gives a strident buzz and the man looks startled, as if he's never come across this before. He swings his feet to the floor and leans in toward the computer screen to read over what it's telling him.
"Gammond . . . been skipping shifts, eh?" he snickers. "Drayvin's put out an order for ya. Fella has no tolerance for insubordinate agents."
The professor slowly removes his glasses.
At that, two Flare goons come out of a doorway directly to our left that I hadn't noticed when we came in. It blends in with the wall, and I can see that beyond the door is a stairwell. The man at the desk points a careless finger at the professor and the two thugs each grab an arm of his. They drag him through the doorway, the professor's eyes meet mine in a final look of perseverance, and then he's gone. It happens instantaneously.
The bearded man throws his feet back up on the desk, pulls a cigarette out from somewhere, and lights it. He takes a long drag. "Nice knowing ya, comrade," the man mutters to himself. He exhales a circle of cigarette smoke.
I stand in shock, not quite able to wrap my brain around what just happened. I remember quickly though that I am still Chesper Moore. I have to maintain self-control.
"Where are they taking him?" I ask, trying hard not to sound worried—merely curious.
"Down to the basement," the man answers, probably because it's actually a topic of interest to him. "Drayvin's gonna beat the living shit outta the guy. He's got nothing better to do than slaughter anyone that annoys him. Man's fucking crazy." He swipes my card through the computer and hands it back to me.
I take the card. I can't muster a response so I simply move to the gate. A caged light at the top of it turns green, and I push past it. In a daze, I force my feet to take me to the elevator I see at the end of the hall. Top floor, I remind myself, top floor.
I know Professor Ashoka said he'd deal with whatever came his way, but it's hard to see him making it out of this one on his own. My priorities suddenly seem very clear to me—finding Fury comes first. Then, just as he did for me, I have to rescue the professor from Drayvin.