Zoey called Candice to tell her she wouldn't be back at the room until much later—and apologized a million times over for it.
"What happened out there?" Candice had asked. The alarm was evident in her voice, and Zoey had no desire to fan her girlfriend's sense of foreboding—especially since her fears would be well-justified. "What did Marinda say?"
"A lot, too much to explain over the phone," Zoey said vaguely. "I just need to go to this event tonight. And hopefully, it'll all be over after then."
"Well… okay…" Candice said. "Just—stay safe, all right?"
Candice's personal intuition would always amaze her. Zoey let out a slow breath.
"I'll be fine," she promised. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Candice said. "I'll see you later."
With a couple more dollars in the form of change repeatedly crammed into her parking meter, Zoey stayed in the Hard Rock Café well into the late afternoon. She remained at the bar with her laptop, sinking deeper and deeper into a pool of certain damnation—whether it be hers or someone else's. Someone like Junia Stevens, whom Zoey had discovered that morning was not at all who she said she was. And neither was anyone surrounding her, for that matter.
The time came. Zoey packed up her items and headed back into the bathroom. She hadn't had the chance to put on any make-up before she left Pallet Town that morning, and she didn't have any in her laptop bag—so she just ran the faucet and splashed some water on her face to clear it up. Her face still dripping, Zoey's head rose to look at her reflection in the mirror, and she steeled herself.
She picked up her cell phone to make her last phone call of the evening.
"What do you want now?" the voice on the other line grunted when it picked up.
"Paul, I'm sorry to call again," Zoey said. "I have another question for you."
Paul made an exasperated noise but didn't hang up.
"That hack into the G-Men's database several months ago—did the G-Men ever conclude who did it and what the purpose of it was?" she asked.
"It's still not known who did it," Paul said. Zoey was almost surprised he answered so easily; she half-expected she would need to pry an answer out of him like she had about the investigation into Jennifer Dey. The difference, she supposed, was the one was public knowledge and the other wasn't—yet. "But the idea is that data miners may have been seeking information they could sell to election campaigns."
"That's the idea though?" Zoey repeated with emphasis. "It's not confirmed?"
"No… ?" Paul obviously wasn't clear on where this was going, and his patience sounded like it was thinning. "It's not."
Zoey sucked in her breath.
"Okay. One more question," Zoey said. "Is it possible, then, that someone could have hacked the database to plant data rather than extract it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Could someone have put data there rather than taken it out?" Zoey rephrased.
"What's this even about?"
"Just please answer the question."
Paul was silent for a moment longer, apparently thinking.
"I suppose it's possible," he begrudgingly admitted. "But why—"
"—Thank you," Zoey said hurriedly before ending the call.
She drove herself downtown in Ritchie's car to the Grand Pewter, the location of the event. It was supposed to be another one of those lavish fundraisers in a fancy hotel ballroom; Zoey didn't really know much about it because she hadn't planned to attend until only hours before and because she'd been busy researching other matters.
What she did know was that she was criminally underdressed (that was the phrase she used in her own head, and she had to laugh at her own ironic use of "criminally.") She didn't have four additional hours to make the trip to Pallet and back for attire more befitting of a black-tie event, but she also didn't particularly care. She wasn't there to blend in; she wasn't there to be gracious. She was there for Jennifer Dey—and everyone else.
Except maybe Ciara Skelley, who was the first person who greeted her when she walked into the ballroom.
"Where have you been?" Ciara grabbed Zoey by the shoulders with a heated desperation. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days." She stopped briefly and wrinkled her nose with a scowl. "And what are you wearing?"
The difference in their outfits was stark with Ciara's black evening gown and dark red lipstick versus the semi-professional casual wear Zoey had managed to throw on that morning before she flew out the door to meet Marinda. But Zoey didn't care, and so she wrenched Ciara off of her.
"I've been on a vacation of sorts," Zoey said. "I'd still be on it if it wasn't for what I learned today."
"Did you get my message from that Jeremy then?" Ciara asked.
"Yes," Zoey said. "But it's more than that."
"What? What do you know?" Ciara half-demanded. Zoey bit her lip and glanced aside, and Ciara snapped, "I told you what I found out about GAG. You owe me."
She had a point. Zoey let out a long breath and made direct eye contact again. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. She grabbed Ciara by the arm and dragged her behind a marble pillar near a lonely corner of the ballroom.
"Junia Stevens's real name is Eileen Kaiden," Zoey shared.
"What?" Ciara seemed caught off guard. "That's not what I heard. Her name in GAG was—"
"Sh—!" Zoey hushed her as several very wealthy-looking donors walked by. The two women watched the group guardedly until they were well out of earshot. Zoey then looked back at Ciara, continuing, "Junia Stevens wears several hats."
"Marinda and Satchel aren't who they say either," Ciara went on.
"I know," Zoey said. "I've been looking into this all afternoon."
"So is there anything else you know?" Ciara asked. "Like, I made use of your information about GAG—did you find anything out about Jennifer Dey?"
"I did, actually," Zoey admitted. "She's under criminal investigation. I'm not sure for what, but I have an inkling. You mentioned an airship accident, and if you're right about GAG, I think she might have been involved in a Team Galactic airship crashing into Lake Valor in 2001."
"Shit," Ciara breathed in awe.
"Where did you even get that info about GAG?" Zoey asked.
"I can't reveal my source, and you should know that," Ciara practically chastised. Zoey felt and looked unsatisfied with this response, and Ciara pressed, "Zoey, do you trust me as a credible journalist or not?"
It was a sharp question, and it rattled Zoey a little. Ciara had seen through her prejudice and was now calling her out on it. Zoey first met Ciara as a tabloid gossip writer for Coordinators Weekly, and she suddenly realized she had never truly made an effort to see her as anything more than that—even though Ciara had proved everything to the contrary over the past six months.
"I do," Zoey said.
Ciara nodded slowly. Then, she added, "I will say it is a source that can be trusted. An agent from inside the G-Men." A pause. "And you? How'd you find out about the investigation into Dey?"
"... Also from someone in the G-Men. Reliable," Zoey said. She knew they weren't talking about the same person, but she also knew there was no way either of them would ever be able to guess who they meant—and maybe it was better that way.
They let these revelations sink in. Soon, Ciara cleared her throat.
"... So what do we do now?" she asked. "Call the G-Men and tell them what we know?"
Zoey thought of Leaf, pregnant with a mercenary determination to protect the perceptions of a principled election; she thought of Paul, her source, nearly silent and resistant to her questions of secrecy; she thought of Iris, who kept her hands wiped clean of any G-Men controversy; she thought of Max, breaking precedent and remaining loyal to it at the same time; she thought of Ash, who would follow the lead of his friends in the solid belief that they wouldn't lead him—that they wouldn't lead their country—astray.
"No." Zoey was firm. "They'll bury it. They'll try to make it quietly disappear. We can't let that happen."
Ciara raised an eyebrow.
"It was a facetious question," she said. "Duh, we're not going to the G-Men. I appreciate your gumption, though." She glanced toward the main floor, and Zoey followed suit; they had their eyes on Marinda and Satchel, who were together, talking up one of the donors that had strolled by earlier.
"But we need some kind of plan," Ciara remarked under her breath. It finally dawned on Zoey that this was now a collaboration, not a competition. This had been Ciara's endgame for a while, and surprisingly, Zoey found herself okay with it. Ciara continued, "What were you planning to do before I caught you?"
"I was going to talk to Jennifer Dey," Zoey answered.
"How, exactly?"
"I was going to be a little more forceful in making my way backstage," Zoey said lightly. "I don't particularly care if these people don't want to talk with me or the Hearthome Chronicle ever again after tonight, especially if we get what we need."
"And what do we need?" Ciara questioned. "We have the confirmation of two G-Men agents, whom we both insist are reliable, and it sounds like we've pretty much put the story together ourselves. What do we need to talk to Junia and her crew for? We could get out of here and write the story now."
"No." Zoey shook her head. "I want to hear it from them, too. We can't be wrong about this."
Ciara pressed her lips together but soon nodded, agreeing. "Okay," she said, "but you're gonna stick out like a sore thumb dressed the way you are trying to get backstage."
Zoey looked down at herself. Her slacks were a little wrinkled and loose from being worn all day today and yesterday, and the blouse she'd happened to force over her head that morning was a little dingy from a few too many washes over the several months she'd been traveling across the regions.
"... Yeah," Zoey conceded, "and it probably doesn't help that Marinda knows I'm onto them, and she straight-up told me to stay away."
"Arceus, Zoey, you're just asking for trouble," Ciara sighed. "Is this the kind of thing that landed you in jail with those protestors?"
"Something like that," Zoey mumbled. "Look, I'm not asking you to do this with me, but I will ask for your help. Does Marinda or anyone else suspect you know anything they think you shouldn't?"
"No, because unlike you, I conduct myself with a little more tact," Ciara said.
Zoey wasn't even going to point out the hypocrisy. She didn't need to fight with Ciara then.
"Okay, good," Zoey said, a little strained. "Then if you can keep Marinda and Satchel busy, I, a poor lost hotel guest, can make my way backstage." She brought out the best thespian ache in her voice at the end of that statement.
Ciara hummed and glanced aside, thinking again. When her eyes returned to Zoey's, she said, "Fine. But first—"
She brazenly reached into Zoey's front pocket and pulled out her phone.
"—Hey," Zoey started, irritated, but Ciara held her own phone out to Zoey before she could complete her protest.
"You're heading into a Pyroar's den," Ciara said bluntly, "and you need to keep yourself safe. I'll keep your phone; text me with mine if you run into trouble."
Zoey could hardly understand why she had to be so dramatic about it; they could have just exchanged numbers. But she threw up her hands a little and gave in. "All right. I will."
Ciara carefully slid Zoey's phone into her purse, and in exchange, pulled out a compact. She flicked it open, checking her face, then gave Zoey a pointed smile. She deposited the compact back into her purse, too, and sashayed over to Marinda and Satchel, who had just finished up with the donor. She maneuvered herself so she stood behind them when she got their attention—so they turned around, and Zoey had an opening.
Zoey made her move, quickly and stealthily, across the ballroom. She made a bee-line for a door that looked like it led to behind the elaborate stage that had been set up. Zoey grabbed at the handle—it was locked.
"Uh, ma'am?" With a sharp breath, Zoey spun around to see a younger man—possibly still a teenager—looking at her. She could tell by his badge he was on the campaign staff. "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes, I'm sorry," Zoey said. "I'm staying at this hotel, and I, uh, made the mistake of taking a different entrance, so I ended up here. I'm just trying to get back to my room. It looked like this door led back into the main hotel, maybe."
"Oh! I see," the staffer. "Well, um, that's actually a staff-only area for this current event… but… there is a door through here that goes down to the main lobby. I could let you in if you just cross over there."
"Yes! Thank you so much," Zoey said, clasping her hands together.
The staffer fumbled for his keys and let her in.
"Thank you, again," Zoey said. The staffer nodded at her with a crooked smile and closed the door.
Zoey promptly let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned back against the door. She wasn't sure how she got so lucky. The combination of her being underdressed and running into a random, low-level staffer had gotten her backstage. And now, to find Jennifer.
She pushed herself forward, moving past the door across the room that would lead to the main hotel. The area was largely empty, and the lighting was eerily dim. For a moment, Zoey worried that she had made a misjudgement and no one of importance would be back here. Until—
"Zoey?"
Zoey stopped breathing. She slowly turned on her heel to come face-to-face with Junia Stevens.
"What are you doing back here?" Junia continued. On the surface, her voice had its usual warm, deep quality—but Zoey could detect the undercurrents of suspicion.
"I—" Zoey stopped short and shut her mouth. Suddenly, she felt paralyzed. She didn't know how she would react, confronting Junia knowing what she knew now, but she didn't expect this—an abrupt surge of dread, of fear. She didn't know what to say, how to respond to Junia's question, without giving all of herself—all of what she had learned—away.
Junia pressed her lips together and sighed, apparently taking Zoey's silence in stride.
"Marinda said you had figured out some things about me," she plainly stated, "and I imagine you have some questions."
Zoey found her voice again.
"Yes," she said. She felt the outline of Ciara's phone in her pocket, and she realized she would need it.
Zoey had wanted Jennifer Dey. She was, after all, at the center of a G-Men investigation. But at that moment, Zoey realized that in the end, the only person who truly mattered in any of this was Junia Stevens—the person who could be their first president, regardless of Marinda's warnings, regardless of Satchel's true identity, regardless of Jennifer's past. Junia was at the center of everything.
Junia offered a strange smile.
"I was Eileen Kaiden," she admitted. "But after my family died… I needed a change in my life. I needed to get away from all of it. So I became a new person and found a new family."
"In GAG?" Zoey asked.
Junia nodded.
"Why keep it a secret, though?" Zoey asked. "You would gain the sympathy of so many voters if they knew where you came from, what you've been through."
Junia offered a little shrug. "It was so painful—it still is," she said. "I didn't want to bring it up. I don't want pity votes. I want people to vote for me because I want them to have the same opportunity I had for a rebirth—for the world to have that opportunity." She paused. "I hope you understand why I ask that you don't publish my former identity."
Zoey took in a deep breath, girding her nerve.
"I would," she said. "I would if it were just that. But it's not." Junia stared through her. Zoey continued, "You told me that there was someone who inspired you to join GAG when you were younger, someone who took you in after you lost your family. You said you couldn't remember his name. I think you were lying, but just in case, let me jog your memory: Sean Cyrus."
Junia inhaled sharply, audibly.
Every word Zoey added thereafter was carefully spoken, quietly spoken. "Am I wrong… Jupiter?" she asked.
Junia—Jupiter—said nothing. The "o" shape in her mouth thinned into a hard line. Zoey did not relent, however. She held her gaze, waiting, waiting for a response.
She would wait longer than she anticipated.
"Mars was right," a voice that was deeper and far less mystic than Junia's spoke. Zoey felt her breath hitch. "She does know too much."
Without even turning around, Zoey knew who it was. The shadow of Jennifer Dey loomed over her and then shrunk as she rounded Zoey and stood between her and Junia Stevens. Zoey did not let this phase her.
"I know who you are, too," she said in as a matter-of-fact manner as she could manage. "You're the infamous Hunter J."
Jennifer remained expressionless, but Junia's face gave it all away. Regardless, Jennifer curtly replied, "You're smart, Ms. Williams, but not that smart. Hunter J died in a Team Galactic airship accident a decade ago."
"Maybe the persona did, but the person hasn't," Zoey persisted, her voice unwavering. "She's standing before me right now. Marinda told me you were hired because you had a special skill set nobody else had. Those skills wouldn't happen to involve infiltrating the G-Men's database and concocting some new identities for a few former Team Galactic commanders, would it?"
"Junia—!" Satchel's voice echoed through the room. "Junia, where are you? We've been waiting for you out th—" Satchel suddenly appeared with Marinda in tow, and he froze upon the scene. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing, Saturn," Zoey said pointedly before darting her gaze back toward Jennifer and Junia. "Just finishing up a few questions." Addressing Jennifer specifically, then, she said, "What are you doing helping Junia and her posse anyway? I've read into you and your dealings. There's no way you believe in Team Galactic's crazy plans."
Junia, Satchel, and Marinda were all tense, but Jennifer still seemed at ease.
"True," Jennifer said, and Zoey developed the sense that she was speaking a little more freely now—what was the sense in hiding it? "But Cyrus paid very well for my work ten years ago. And though Ms. Stevens and her crew were paroled several years ago, my services were again requested when the election was announced, and I ensured their criminal indiscretions were erased."
"Shut your mouth, J," Marinda suddenly snarled. "You're saying too much."
Jennifer was disaffected.
"It doesn't matter," she said with a casual look over her shoulder. "Ms. Williams may think she's walking out of here with her story—oh, but she's not."
A threat. Zoey became acutely aware that she was outnumbered four to one, and she took a step back, putting some more distance between herself and Jennifer. She felt for Ciara's phone again as her heart rate accelerated
Junia finally stepped in. "I want nothing to do with this," she announced.
Jennifer whirled on her. "You don't have a choice at this point," she hissed with more venom than anything she had said throughout the whole conversation. "You ran your mouth in your interview, and now she knows. She's figured it out. Marinda warned you, Satchel warned you, I warned you—"
While they fought, Zoey tilted the screen of the phone in her pocket, turned it on, closed the app that was running, and began to type a message.
"—We ran this campaign to make a better world," Satchel defensively interjected. "Team Galactic has never condoned murder."
"You stupid bastard, people are going to die anyway if you get what you want and Junia is elected!" Jennifer's voice rose. "Your 'moral' justifications don't change that."
"Back off," Marinda warned, physically pushing away Jennifer despite the towering height difference.
All eyes were off Zoey then, and she took this as her opportunity. She bolted for the door to the main hotel lobby. Her hand was just extending to the knob when—
Zoey had to skid to a halt because her path was suddenly blocked by an enormous Salamence. The Dragon bared its teeth and emitted a terrible, guttural growl, causing Zoey to back up several steps in fear. She abruptly turned her head back toward Jennifer, whose eyes were locked on her.
"Do you honestly believe that I stopped watching you?" J questioned. It sounded like should have been a laugh, a cruel, cold laugh, but there was nothing—she could not manage even that.
Zoey gritted her teeth. Jennifer flicked her eyes back toward Marinda, Satchel, and Junia. "This will be my last night in your service. I will still expect my final paycheck forwarded to my account."
Junia started to shake her head. "J—" she started, her voice shaking.
"We'll see that it's done," Satchel interjected with finality. A single hand rose to Junia's back. "Come on. You're expected."
He led her out the door back into the ballroom, where the adoring applause of her political and financial supporters awaited her. Only Marinda lingered behind for a moment longer. She caught Zoey's eye and gazed at her with a look of… some sort of mix between indignation and regret. No words were exchanged, but Zoey could see what she wanted to say all over her face.
I told you.
Marinda walked out, and Zoey and Jennifer were alone. Zoey briefly looked at the door to the ballroom, considering it—but she felt Jennifer's gaze burning into her. She suspected that now that Junia and the others weren't around to dither about the morality of murder with Jennifer, trying to run again would end poorly. So Zoey decided to stall.
"How'd you even survive the airship accident anyway?" she asked. "I read reports that only one person survived, and it wasn't you."
"I imagine you also read reports that not all the bodies were recovered," Jennifer said. Zoey shut her mouth again, and Jennifer managed a smirk. "There's always a missing piece, isn't there? Frustrating for a reporter, I know. It's why you came back here despite everything against you."
"That didn't answer my question."
"I have ways of making myself vanish."
Zoey thought of Jennifer Dey's file conspicuously missing from the G-Men's database. Still, she said, "If that were true, the G-Men wouldn't be onto you."
"A fair point, but I've been off their radar for this long, haven't I?" Jennifer made a slight gesture with her hand as emphasis. "It's no concern. I'll disappear again after we're done here. Thank you, by the way, for the heads up. I wasn't aware the G-Men were looking into me until Marinda told me this afternoon."
Zoey tried not to let that phase her. Something in her doubted that was true; this was her first full conversation with Jennifer, and she had the sense the former hunter had probably known about the G-Men's efforts for a while. This was just a game, something J was doing to throw Zoey off.
Jennifer started to circle to the other side of Zoey.
"For your kindness, I'll repay you with a slight mercy," Jennifer said. "I'll let you choose how you want to die—or rather, I'll let you choose how everyone will think you died. Suicide? Wild Pokémon? Infrastructure accident? I'm very good at my job. I've had a lot of different experiences over the past 15 years, and I could make it seem you died of an unfortunate cause."
Zoey thought for a moment.
"To be honest," she hummed, "I think… I'd rather go out in a bang."
In one rapid motion, she seized Glameow's Poké Ball from her waist. "Fake Out!" she cried as Glameow emerged and Jennifer's Salamence propelled itself toward them. But with a clap of Glameow's paws, Salamence flinched, and a window opened.
"Glameow, come!" Zoey dove beneath Salamence, grabbed for the door knob, flung it open, and fled with her Glameow in tow. Salamence roared in response, and Jennifer yelled after them. Salamence burst through the door, breaking down the wall, and Zoey whirled on her heel.
"Thunder!" she ordered.
"Hyper Beam!" Jennifer called back.
Zoey didn't stick around to see the impact of the colliding forces. She called for Glameow to follow her again, and they bolted. Zoey's mind was racing: Jennifer wanted her dead, but she wanted it done discreetly, and in that regard, Jennifer was already at a disadvantage since they had managed to make quite a scene that would soon call onlookers to them. Then Jennifer couldn't so easily cover up her death and disappear. In the meantime, if she could just get into the view of a security camera—
Zoey came to a sudden halt. Glameow ran a few feet ahead of her before digging her claws into the carpet to stop herself, too. She looked wildly back at her trainer and mewled in confusion. All at once, it had occurred to Zoey that Jennifer didn't really give a shit whether she was alive or not. Sure, maybe it was more convenient, and yes, her being alive and reporting on Junia Stevens's past would effectively end the campaign, but Jennifer was never invested in any of that. She planned to disappear regardless. And it was then that Zoey realized she wasn't being followed.
She had everything she needed. She had everything she wanted. She and Ciara could write the story no problem. But still, she turned around and headed back because there was—something—that compelled her to do it. She didn't want to let her get away with it; she wouldn't let her get away with it.
Zoey and Glameow dashed past the wreckage of charred or burning debris and dangling electrical wires. Through the thin wisps of smoke, she saw Jennifer, sans her Salamence, making her surreptitious escape. Zoey thrust her hand forward and commanded, "Glameow, use Shadow Claw on that pillar!"
Glameow bounded ahead and struck the decorative pillar, causing it to fall ahead of Jennifer and block her path. Jennifer stopped, but she clicked her heels together and made a full turn toward Zoey, looking at her with an aggressive impatience.
"Really?" she said, unimpressed. "Do you want to die? I thought it was actually quite nice I was letting you run."
"Not at the cost of my dignity," Zoey answered with near-nonchalance. Jennifer sneered.
"Fine." She reached for her Salamence's Poké Ball. "I suppose we can do this the hard wa—"
"Victreebel, Vine Whip!"
Before Jennifer could call forth the sheer terror of her Salamence again, both of her wrists were imprisoned by the thick tendrils of a Victreebel's vines, and Jennifer was incapacitated. She screeched angrily, and Zoey spun around to see Ciara on her heels.
"You just had to be a hero, didn't you?" she scoffed. Zoey didn't think she'd ever be glad to see Ciara Skelley, but she was. "I got your message," Ciara added, holding up Zoey's phone. Zoey let out a long breath in response.
"Thank you," she breathed.
"You weren't alone?!" Jennifer hissed at Zoey, still pulling against Victreebel's vines.
"For a renowned mercenary, I would've expected a lot more," Ciara taunted. "Don't bother struggling. The G-Men have been contacted, and the local police were dispatched and have set a perimeter around the building."
The color drained from Jennifer's face, highlighting the crevices within her scar—and she withered. She had been defeated. But Zoey was too busy looking at Ciara in disbelief to notice.
"You called the G-Men?" Zoey repeated.
"Paul Rebolledo was your last contact, so it wasn't hard," Ciara answered with a wry shrug. She grasped and turned Zoey's hand over, laying her phone in it. Ciara then held her own hand out expectantly. "Now—what did you get? I assume you got something, given you wanted to talk to them so bad."
A freeing realization skimmed up Zoey's spine, and she out a breath. She turned over Ciara's phone back to her. "I got most of my conversation with Jennifer, Junia, Marinda, and Satchel recorded."
Ciara offered no praise, but her smile widened. She took her phone and slid it carefully into the top half of her dress, hiding it from view.
"And the G-Men don't have to know," she said.
After the ordeal, Zoey called Candice first. She didn't pick up. The lack of a response worried Zoey—Candice always picked up—but after two additional attempts that went straight to voicemail, she came to the discouraging conclusion that she wouldn't pick up at all. Her thoughts immediately went to their last conversation and how it had ended, and whether Candice was mad, and whether she was ignoring her, and whether she was—
Zoey knew she couldn't spiral. Not then, when there was still so much work to be done. She called Homa second. She picked up on the first dial.
"Arceus, Zoey, I was wondering when you were going to call," was Homa's immediate response.
Zoey furrowed her brows in confusion.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Do you not see the news vans there?"
Zoey perked up and raised her gaze. She was sitting alone outside a curb near the hotel. Well, as alone as she could be. Police swarmed the area, curious onlookers were wandering around, and reporters and cameramen were interviewing bewildered eventgoers and donors. Zoey realized she was one of the few people sitting out the action.
"I guess I didn't realize you were watching," Zoey said.
"Of course I was. I knew something was going to happen tonight when you told me about what Paul said, so I turned on PNN. I'm glad your safe. That little explosion didn't have anything to do with you, did it?"
"Maybe."
"Zoey…"
"Jennifer Dey was going to kill me—I had to defend myself somehow." The way she said it was so casual, and only when the words tumbled out of her mouth did Zoey realize how absurd her untroubled tone was.
It apparently took Homa a moment to unpack all that. She was silent at first, and then came a sharp and alarmed, "What?!"
"Okay," Zoey nervously laughed. "That didn't come out well. It's a long story, but I'm fine now. I'm not even hurt. Just a little shaken, I guess."
"You're aging me, Williams."
"It was your choice to send me out here," Zoey said with a shrug in her voice.
"It was," Homa conceded. A pause. "So I'm guessing Jennifer Dey was the one apprehended then? PNN doesn't know."
Zoey blinked. "The one?" she repeated as if she had misheard her.
"PNN is reporting that only one person was arrested," Homa elaborated.
Zoey said nothing for a moment. Her breathing slowed, then quickened. One? How could there be only one? Was it a reporting error? Was it—?
"So tell me what happened," Homa interrupted Zoey's winding thoughts, bringing her building mental frenzy to an abrupt end. Zoey wetted her lips and tried to refocus.
"Well, uh—" Zoey stumbled through her words. "I ran into Ciara Skelley—the, uh, Sinnoan Times reporter—and she and I, she and I…" Zoey was on her feet by then, looking around.
"Is everything okay?' Homa asked worriedly.
"Yeah, I—I'm fine," Zoey insisted. "Anyway, Ciara and I—we pooled some information together and—we're going to write the story together, sorry I didn't run that by you—"
"Is that what you're so mixed-up about?" Homa asked. "We've done collaborations with the Times before."
"No, I—" Zoey stopped again, still searching the crowd.
Homa must have sensed—correctly—that Zoey didn't want to talk to her then, for she added, "Why don't you call me back when you're feeling better? In the meantime, I'll reach out to Alanis Rubio, The Sinnoan Times editor, and see about smoothing out the logistics for a collab between you and Ciara."
Zoey finally spotted whom she was looking for: Ciara herself. They had separated in the chaos following Jennifer's arrest, having only spoken last when Ciara concealed her own phone—and the recording on it.
"Thank you, Homa," Zoey said before hanging up. She then immediately called out Ciara's name. When the other reporter turned around, Zoey jogged toward her.
"What is it?" Ciara asked with a hint of what almost sounded like concern.
"Junia, Marinda, Satchel—they weren't arrested?" Zoey asked.
Any genuine care Ciara felt, however small, must have instantly evaporated. She gave Zoey an odd look, saying, "Of course they weren't. You and I are the only ones who know about the real Junia Stevens—and they knew they were in trouble the moment you showed up looking for Jennifer. They bounced as soon as there was that backstage explosion."
A boiling anger bubbled up in Zoey's chest as if a stove's dial had been turned all the way around. How could they get away? How could Ciara let them get away? She knew who they were; she knew what they had done. How could—
"Don't give me that look," Ciara scolded her before Zoey could say a word. Apparently, her expression had betrayed her ire. "What was I supposed to do? Tell the G-Men? You and I agreed we couldn't do that. Play the hero card like you? I very well might've saved your life. I had a choice between trying to stall Junia and her crew or responding to your SOS. I choose you."
Ciara words lifted the lid and let out the steam. Still, Zoey was simmering, though her anger was no longer directed at the other reporter.
"I just—" she started.
"—I get it," Ciara said, cutting her off. "I do. You think I'm glad they got away? No. But Junia Stevens's campaign is going to go down in flames, rightfully so, because of what you and I are going to do. Maybe they've escaped jail, but they haven't escaped us, and they certainly won't escape the court of public opinion. Our job isn't to save the world, Zoey, it's to inform it—and on nights like this, maybe it's the same thing."
Zoey shut her eyes and took in a deep breath.
"... Yeah," she agreed. Ciara's reasoning had finally cooled Zoey all the way down. She was right—not just in a metaphorical sense, but a literal one too. Team Galactic's goal—Junia Stevens's goal—was a bona fide beginning for the world, which meant destruction for the one that existed. But she and Ciara, they were going to unearth it; they were going to tell everyone. Team Galactic's plan would never happen.
Ciara started to draw away from Zoey.
"I'm planning on getting us a hotel room, y'know, since we're already here and all," she said. "Hope you're prepared for an all-nighter. Alanis, my editor, wants the first draft by morning."
Zoey smiled weakly. "I will be," she promised. Ciara nodded to her and turned away. Zoey pulled out her phone again and—she knew she should have called Homa, but she ended up dialing Candice again.
Still no response.
"Oh, what now?" Ciara asked, looking at Zoey over her shoulder. Under normal circumstances, Zoey would have been annoyed that Ciara was still hovering around for no apparent reason other than to bother her, but in this case, she just sighed.
"My—girlfriend—" Zoey decided it was easier not to conceal it. "—she hasn't been answering my calls. I feel horrible. She flew out to hang out with me for a few days, and then I got involved in all this. She's so wonderful to me, and I feel like I can never give her what she wants because I'm doing—" Zoey's eyes made a sweep of the scene before her again: police cars, television reporters, confused and curious pedestrians. "—this."
"What, like Candice wants to get married, and you can't commit because you're worried you're too 'busy'?" Ciara questioned dryly. The response jolted Zoey, mostly because it was—well—accurate. That she knew Candice's name might have been more surprising had Zoey not known Ciara's previous line of work. Ciara continued, "Look, I don't know a lot about your relationship, but as someone who spent years reporting on them, I'll say this: The number one thing that destroys relationships are a person's own insecurities. That's what ruined your friend Barry and Kyle's relationship, not me."
Zoey was further bewildered that Ciara brought up Barry now of all times; then she was just plain upset.
"Barry wasn't—" Zoey started in protest.
"I'm not talking about Barry, I'm talking about Kyle," Ciara corrected. "Kyle's insecurities. He's the one who destroyed their relationship. He's the one who destroyed Barry's reputation."
"You gave him the platform to do it," Zoey said, not concealing the bitterness in her voice.
"That is true, and I guess I regret that," Ciara admitted. "But the point is that Candice probably isn't the problem here. You are."
"I know I am," Zoey shot back.
"Then buy her the goddamn ring, Zoey," Ciara said with exasperation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Zoey stared, but Ciara lifted her gaze above her and remarked, "Oh, we're getting a two-for-one deal."
Zoey looked, too, and saw that Paul and Leaf were emerging from a car that had just pulled up. Zoey pursed her lips. Of course she should have expected Leaf. Even if Jennifer Dey was under Paul's jurisdiction, and even if Leaf was just about ready to give birth in two or three weeks, there was no way Leaf was not going to get involved.
Zoey started mentally gearing up for the interrogation, which she imagined would be wholly unpleasant—but then she saw Candice also emerge from the back of the same vehicle, and all the scripts she was cobbling together in her mind were torn asunder.
Leaf was approaching her directly, but Candice rushed past and embraced Zoey first. Zoey stumbled back from both the force of the hug and her own surprise, but she eventually lifted her arms and reciprocated.
"You're crazy, and I'm crazy proud," Candice sniffled into her hair. Zoey was bewildered not only by the fact Candice was crying, but by her choice of words. She wasn't chastising her; she didn't even sound upset. She just sounded relieved.
There were a dozen things Zoey wanted to say in immediate reply, but of all of them, she found herself uttering in a shaky voice, "You weren't answering my calls."
Candice pulled back and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "When I heard there was trouble in Pewter City, I got really scared and—I got ahold of Dawn, and she convinced Paul to let me come. I left my phone at the inn with the rush. Lucas wanted to come, too, but Leaf took one look at him and said, 'Who are you?' and shut the car door."
Zoey managed a laugh at that. She raised a hand to wipe her eyes, too; she had discovered she was also tearing up. "I thought you were mad," Zoey said.
"Why would I be mad?" Candice asked in all sincerity.
"Well, you—" Zoey almost felt silly bringing it up then. "I mean, you came out all this way, and I've been gone for months, and—and—"
Candice cupped her face. "Zoey," she said her name with as much gravity she could muster, "I couldn't be mad. I told you to do this, and you did. I mean, you scared the hell out of me tonight, so I guess my blood pressure's pretty upset with you."
Zoey laughed again and leaned forward to kiss her—fully, sincerely, warmly. The clearing of a deep voice behind the pair brought them back into reality.
"I don't mean to interrupt, but…" Paul started.
"I do," Leaf brashly interjected, stepping between Zoey and Candice. "Zoey, with all due respect—what the fuck?"
A few feet away, Ciara dramatically gasped, "Such language, Madam Champion! Careful, the baby might hear you."
Leaf glared through her. Ciara turned away and slinked back into the hotel, presumably to finally arrange the hotel room she had promised for herself and Zoey. Leaf then pivoted back toward Zoey, continuing, "How did you even know about Jennifer Dey? That she was under investigation? That she was—" She lowered her voice and hissed through gritted teeth, "—Hunter J?"
Zoey's eyes rose only briefly to meet Paul's. She had no plans of giving him away—he'd never speak to her again about anything of remote consequence if she did, and she was ethically obliged to protect her sources—but she was curious about his reaction anyway.
During their brief moment of eye contact, Paul pressed his lips together, giving no hint of what he wanted her to do; perhaps, Zoey realized, he was equally interested in what her reaction would be. If she revealed him, then, well—Paul didn't ever seem to care if Leaf yelled at him anyway. If she preserved his perceived uninvolvement, then he would know he could trust her—not just as a friend, but as a professional, too.
"I've been covering Junia Stevens' campaign for months," Zoey finally answered. "You learn things."
Leaf was clearly unsatisfied with that answer. With good reason, Zoey figured. Her response was purposefully vague.
"Lance has been investigating Jennifer Dey for over a year now,and you just—you just get her to blow her cover in one night?" Leaf continued with a frustrated incredulity. "How did you do it? What do you know that you told her?"
Zoey raised an eyebrow.
"Lance has been investigating this?" she asked.
It made a lot sense, Zoey realized. On one level, it explained why Leaf was there tonight when Jennifer Dey's case was technically under Paul's jurisdiction. On another, it explained perhaps how Adalet had unintentionally let slip the information that there was criminal activity surrounding Junia Stevens's campaign when he had resigned from the G-Men months earlier. His old superior had probably told him to keep an eye out.
"Yes," Leaf replied tersely. "Answer my question now."
Leaf could always be unpleasant when she was mad—and her business with the G-Men was definitely one of her triggers—but Zoey was finding her particularly insufferable now. She kept her cool though, chalking up Leaf's worse-than-usual temper to the extra 30 pounds she was carrying.
"Bringing up the database was enough," Zoey said, deciding that was a safe amount of information to divulge before she and Ciara wrote their story.
"Excuse me?" Leaf demanded, and even Paul looked surprised.
"Oh, you didn't know?" For a moment, Zoey had the urge to take a victory lap—just a small one. "Jennifer Dey is the person who infiltrated the G-Men's database."
"How—" Leaf stopped short. She paused to take a deep breath, recollected herself, then held out her hand. "Okay—let me have it."
Leaf didn't have to clarify for Zoey to know what she wanted: her cell phone.
"Do you have a warrant?" Zoey asked calmly.
"I do, actually," Leaf said, and sure enough, she produced the paper, handing it to Zoey. Zoey exchanged an eyebrow-raised glance with Candice, who had stood coolly beside Zoey throughout the whole ordeal. Zoey remembered who she was dealing in clear detail then, but she was prepared regardless.
"Okay, fine." She handed over her phone without a fight. "But I'm just telling you now: You won't find anything on it."
"I'll be the judge of that," Leaf said lightly. "Not that I don't trust you as a person, Zoey, but—well, you know."
"Uh-huh," Zoey replied in an equally light, unconvinced tone. From the corner of her eye, Zoey caught sight of Ciara again. She was watching the scene unfold intensely, but Zoey gave her a reassuring nod and returned her attention to the two Champions before her. "Is that all?"
"That's it, for now," Leaf said. She waved the phone in front of her. "You can have this back in a couple hours."
"Thanks," Zoey uttered insincerely.
Leaf said nothing further. She simply turned away to leave, but Paul lingered behind a moment longer. His dark eyes carefully watched her go, and once it was certain she was out of earshot, he leaned close to Zoey, murmuring, "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Zoey replied. "I should thank you."
There was a slight shift in his stance. Clearly, he was uncomfortable with her even indirectly referencing his involvement. Zoey noticed and decided she wasn't going to press the matter further—yet, Paul himself seemed unable to prevent the following question from spilling out of his mouth.
"How did you know Jennifer Dey was behind the infiltration of the G-Men's database?" he asked. His eyes were searching; Zoey had brought up the database in their last phone conversation, but how she had arrived at that conclusion, she figured, was a mystery to him.
Zoey only smiled wryly in response.
"You'll have to read a copy of tomorrow's Hearthome Chronicle to find out," she said in an almost-playful tone.
Paul made an unimpressed grunt in response, glowering at her. Yet, he didn't protest any further, perhaps because Ciara rejoined Zoey's side, saying, "You done here? We have work to do."
"Yeah," Zoey answered with a tired nod. "Just a moment." She turned back to Candice, who offered her a crooked smile.
"Don't you dare apologize, Zoe-Zoe," she facetiously warned.
"I won't," Zoey promised. She felt herself smiling and growing warm. "I'll just thank you instead." She then pulled the keys to Ritchie's car out of her bag. "Would you take this back to Ritchie tonight? I think I'm gonna be here for a while, and I think it'll save you from having to endure another two-hour car ride with Leaf."
Candice laughed and accepted the keys. "Maybe I should be the one who's grateful." She leaned forward to kiss her again, and Zoey close her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose, savoring the moment. When Candice pulled back, she briefly squeezed Zoey's hand, said she'd tell Lucas they were doing fine, and turned away.
Zoey watched her leave, glowing, before she recollected herself and looked back at Ciara.
"Okay, let's do this," Zoey said. Ciara hummed and gestured for Zoey to follow her. In through the hotel doors they went, and they headed toward the elevator.
Once in their room—a simple two-bed affair—Zoey set up her laptop and notes at the desk while Ciara changed out of her evening gown. After Ciara emerged from the bathroom in more comfortable wear, she, too, pulled out her laptop, her notes, and, most importantly, her cell phone. She laid it on the table between them.
"I haven't listened to the audio you recorded yet," she informed Zoey.
"You're in for a treat then," Zoey said. "Hit play."
A dark past revealed: Junia Stevens, campaign staffers were members of Team Galactic
Zoey Williams and Ciara Skelley
April 19, 2011
This story was co-published with The Sinnoan Times
Nearly ten years before Junia Stevens began running for the highest office of Napaj, she was known by her colleagues as Jupiter—a commander in the Sinnoan crime organization, Team Galactic. Ten years before then, she was known to friends and family as Eileen Kaiden.
In all respects, Junia Stevens's youth was like any other in Napaj. She was born as Eileen to Allen and Jennifer Kaiden in Floaroma Town, Sinnoh, on March 1, 1977. In 1987, she departed from her family on her Pokémon journey. Two years later, she competed in in the 1989 Sinnoh League and made it to the quarterfinals before losing her match.
Then in June 1990, Eileen Kaiden's life took a turn for the worse. Her parents and 6-year-old brother were murdered during a home invasion while she was still on her journey. Sometime thereafter, she met then 19-year-old Sean Cyrus, the CEO of his start-up company, the Galactic Advocacy Group (GAG). She joined the group at 12.
Junia Stevens's campaign spokesperson Marinda Ortiz, formerly known as Mars within the Team Galactic organization, told the Hearthome Chronicle in a late January interview this year that "GAG" was a meaningless acronym, and that it was an advocacy group seeking to advance interests pertaining to the STEM fields. In fact, GAG was a shell company housing funds for Team Galactic's mission: to use the power of Sinnoh's legendary Creation Trio—Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina—to destroy the fabric of the current universe and create a new one.
Ortiz and Satchel Thompson, known as Saturn in Team Galactic, joined the group while attending Canalave University together with Stevens. In 2001, the group hired Jennifer Dey, perhaps better known by her former moniker Hunter J, to capture to Sinnoan lake guardians Azelf, Mesprit, and Uxie. The plot failed: Dey's ship crashed into Lake Valor, and she and the majority of her crew were pronounced or presumed dead; Cyrus disappeared into a time portal created by Dialga and Palkia; Stevens, Ortiz, and Thompson were arrested by the G-Men.
The three were eventually all released on parole at different points in late 2005 or early 2006. They adopted new names and moved on with their lives. Junia Stevens began working for the Eterna City Historical Museum as a curator in 2006, according to Arthur Garcia, the museum's director. Ortiz and Thompson told The Sinnoan Times in February that they both worked in the telecommunications industry.
Then, the Napajian National League announced in August 2010 that it would hold an election for a new presidential office. Thompson told the Chronicle in February that he reached out to Stevens and Ortiz about the possibility of running an election campaign. Of the three, Stevens was chosen to be the candidate, and she contacted Dey, who had survived the Lake Valor accident, about erasing their criminal histories before the election.
On audio obtained by the Chronicle and Times, Dey confesses to hacking into the G-Men's database on Oct. 22, 2010, and replacing Stevens's, Ortiz's, and Thompson's files with counterfeits matching their new identities.
The house of cards collapsed Sunday evening at Junia Stevens's campaign event in Pewter City. When Stevens, Ortiz, Thompson, and Dey were confronted about the true nature of their identities, Dey's Salamence destroyed a portion of the Grand Pewter's ground floor. Dey was apprehended by local police and taken into custody by the G-Men. No charges have been filed as of publication time.
Stevens, Ortiz, and Thompson could not be located following the incident at the Grand Pewter, and all calls to Junia Stevens's campaign have been unreturned.
Follow the reporters Zoey Williams and Ciara Skelley at zoey_williams and ciaraske on Chatot.