16:18 - October 17th, 2007 - 8 days until October 25th

Connor could think of few things he fancied less than the cramped and bustling mine. The soulless and empty mine was one of them.

At the very least, when it firing on all chambers, there was life about the place. It may have been utterly claustrophobic, urgent hollering and clangs forming an impenetrable wall of sound. But when empty, this was replaced with something even worse: a ghostly presence, and the oppressive sense of nothingness. Even the great swarming hive of workers, muttering and talking and yelling as they navigated around the clutter of mine carts, machines and the mound, was a preferable prospect than sheer emptiness. An emptiness that could be felt halfway down the colossus of a stairwell that led into the mine's heart.

An empty feeling ran down the empty space between Connor's t-shirt and back, sending shivers down his spine. Whether out of fear of the great nothing or an urge to defy it, he wasn't sure, but something deep within called on him to summon Ronnie as he entered.

"S-so, Reyes," he asked in hushed tones, as Ronnie arched up near his leg. "What now?"

"It's simple. Together we'll look for faulty equipment, get photo - or video - proof that it's conked, and then we'll go snoop about the office. I'm sure whoever's in here, they'll help us find it!"

Connor nodded, his whisper going sickly. "…Right, that, er, that works. But what if there's like, a-a g-guard or the police, or something like that?"

"Then we'll just have to beat the crap out of them, won't we, my friend?"

The nod that met this one was much more hesitant.

The first order of business was that jammed lever down by the cart rails, which was being gingerly approached by a green worker. Just as Reyes wanted it — his Pokémon withdrawn, he began his gambit, taking out his Pokédex and preparing to film. Connor, sharing a glance and moment of silent debate with Ronnie, followed a fair few paces behind.

"Hey, excuse me, sir — what's your name?"

The fresh miner looked up at Reyes, confusion the only break in his otherwise tired, diligent face. "What? It's Doug."

"Doug, hey! I'm Reyes; you don't mind if I do a bit of filming here, right? Just making sure everything is safe down here, after all," came the response, spring in step reflected in voice. "Getting hurt? Big no-no!"

"…Sure, just don't get in the way," replied a Doug that was definitely not getting paid enough for this.

"Thank you so much!"

Reyes turned to Connor as he pressed the record button, and Connor did the same. Doug was having a much harder time in getting the lever to obey, though. One arm on the lever became two as he threw his entire back into it. First a grumble, then a groan, and finally a screech escaped his throat as he seized down on the hunk of metal. After what felt like an entire minute of struggle, the lever obeyed with an unholy screech and the crackle of sparks. Reyes' attempts to resist the cacophony were much more successful than Connor's, who had been forced back by the litany of health and safety hazards before him.

"Aaah, that is just — excellent," spoke Reyes through a grimace as he turned his camera to the rolling mine cart that sputtered to life. "Thank you, so much — I… assume you're a new employee, right?"

"I wish I wasn't." Doug's gaze up at his questioner was one that travelled a thousand yards over its baggy eyelids. "Bloody first day and I have to break a strike, my colleagues are going to kill me when and if they get back, boss says I'm here till 11, and tourists want to film me like I'm some sort of exhibit."

Tourists. Exhibit.

Connor's body froze at these words. He was a week-old trainer, not some working-class hero, and nobody except Lucia had asked for his help. Why she'd done that, he had no idea, but Doug was right — he was a tourist, a foreigner, an alien that didn't belong here — and there were guards here, and what if Roark found out, or the police, and he got a criminal record, and—

The cold lump that called his side home bundled up closer to him, drawing his attention. At the very least, Ronnie was content enough, and certainly did not object to a pat, a reward for being a very good boy.

Anyway, where was he?

Where was Reyes?

"Hey! Over here, buddy!"

Perking up, Connor rushed to his friend, slaloming between machines and men. Reyes had taken a vested interest in a broken conveyor belt. "Yeah," he called out to the operator of the belt. "Just, like, try pressing the thingy-majig — try turning it on."

Connor took the hint, pulling out his Pokédex and recording the inevitable that came next — attempts to bring the beast back to life were in vain, with only mechanical sputters and grumbles coming from the machine.

"Yeah, see, it's just — it's not turning on, see? Ruddy typical. Always like this, bloody thing."

"Always? How long have you been here?"

"Oh, couple of years. I would be out there striking, but a man's gotta eat, you know?"

Something felt off, though, as Connor stopped recording. Like a coin balanced on a table's edge, he wasn't sure how close this whole operation teetered to disaster. Under the pressure, he'd have been lying if he'd said his legs didn't tremble. Yet he could not falter now. Ronnie was relying on him to keep it together, and it was the thought of letting him down that kept him stable.

"Oh, by the way," piped up Reyes, "would you happen to know where the boss lives?"

"Yeah; over by the left, then to your right, take another right and just keep going till you see a room. You'll know it when you see it."

"Ah! Thank you so much; you are too kind!" The conveyor belt operator smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, receiving a handshake for his troubles as the duo made their exit.

Reyes soon found himself taking Garra out of his ball as his walk became a run down the dimly lit corridor. Connor trailed behind, his advance much more timid. While it wasn't quite the stairwell, this corridor did not afford him much breathing space. Each breath he took was a laboured one squeezed through seizing lungs, his heartbeat thudding through his rib cage, bouncing and echoing from wall to wall. Ronnie's smaller size meant that the tight space affected him far less, but Connor's little metal friend was nevertheless stirred by something.

Darkness obscured the end of the corridor. Around the bend, anything could have met them. Whatever it was had them trapped, too; they had no means of escape. What were they to do, take the fight to the miners? Run back up to the police? Oh, the police; were they being followed in? What if one of them caught on and seized the mine searching for them?

Reyes stood against a wall to catch his breath, waiting for his companion to catch up. "Are you good, Connor?"

"Y-yeah, all good for me. You know, uh, y-you're pretty good at this, I guess."

This drove some light onto Reyes' face. "Hey, you're doing great too! We shouldn't be in here for very much longer, I'd imagine, hang in there."

Connor tried to smile at this, in a desperate to keep his mind off the sound of imminent, faceless footsteps around the shadowed, ink black corner. Ink blackness pierced only by a beam of bright light.

"…Connor, is everything okay?" asked Reyes, before his attention was caught by Garra, rumbling like a tractor engine. Then the footsteps. Then the light. "Oh. Stay calm, Connor, don't worry; I've got this."

Reyes did not, in fact, have this, as became apparent when the footsteps were revealed to belong to some security guards. Neither of them could discern how many there were, partly due to the burning magnesium white torch shining directly into their retinas.

"Oi! What are you two doing down 'ere, ya little toerags?" spoke one of them with such intensity it almost blew Connor off his feet. "You don't look like miners to me; scram!"

Reyes unbuttoned his top button in reply, standing tall and rugged as Mount Coronet. "Ah! Please forgive us," he began, "for we don't mean any harm — we're just having a look around, is all! By the way, whereabouts does the boss live?"

"Are you deaf? Piss off!"

"That's not very nice!" With a most displeased frown on his face, Reyes recoiled, sizing up his foes. "Besides — if we're being truthful, I don't think you're legally supposed to be down here either." His hand shot out of his pocket with a Pokéball, aimed and ready to let loose at the guards facing them.

Connor's motion to do the same was brought to a stop by a realisation. "...Sorry, either?"

Before Reyes could articulate himself, the guards grabbed the conversation by the neck. Connor had no doubt that as the two were out of grabbing reach with Pokémon at the ready, this was the next best thing. They took a couple of steps closer, thankfully revealing there to be only two of them, with the leader sheathing his torch. "You're trying to insinuate we're not real guards? That's just about the stupidest idea I've ever heard, and I hope you weren't seriously relying on it to scare us. But if you're going to act like little turds, the invitation to smash your Pokémon before we throw you out is a welcome one, I'll say. Machop, go!"

"Stunky!"

"Very well. Baggo, I choose you!"

"Shoot! Er — Ronnie!"

Connor wasn't entirely sure how it was possible, but his Pokémon cut a more confident figure than him on the battlefield. The prospect of Ronnie against a trained Machop didn't exactly fill him with hope, in all honesty, and his last encounter with a Stunky was fresh in the memory — though he was lucky he had only been gassed and not sprayed then. However, there was absolutely no chance that he was risking Byrne in a battle between trainers quite so soon. So with all combatants on the battlefield, he figured-

"Stunky! Roar!"

He went stiff as a nail as the guards and the Machop covered their ears, with Reyes and Baggo doing suit. The Stunky locked onto Ronnie with its stabbing fangs bared, its jaw swinging open with beads of saliva dangling from the roof to the floor of its mouth. Just as the howl was about to let rip, however, Connor launched himself onto the floor, wrapping himself around Ronnie and covering his ears, ears that the Aron's arms were too stubby to reach.

"Connor, no-"

A roar as horrible as one hundred forks and one thousand knives scraping a shared plate ripped through the air, pummelling Connor's bare eardrums like an audial freight train. While Ronnie was, for the most part, left intact, his trainer was almost thrown to the other side of the room, ears screaming for mercy before drowning out all other noise. It took all of his effort to not join the chorus of screams, instead whimpering as he clamped down on his lips before his protests died out.

When he figured the attack had ended, his eyelids finally unclenched, looking around to see Baggo rush head-first into the Stunky. Through his stupor, he swore he heard Reyes's voice, yet his mouth seemed to be moving with nothing but undecipherable ringing coming out. His brain had become a thick soup in that skull of his as he made his way off his Pokémon, collapsing in a heap rather than standing back up. His brain told his mouth to call for a Metal Claw on the Stunky, though he wasn't actually sure if that came out until he saw Ronnie blaze a trail in charging the attacker. Connor had no idea those stubby little legs could carry something so heavy so fast, and even through his haze, he could see the steely swipe sending the Stunky flying back — if not out, then most certainly down.

He'd forgotten about the Machop, though.

The Machop that launched itself at Ronnie through the air, preparing a downward Karate Chop. Oh no. Connor fumbled around on his belt, pulling out Ronnie's opened ball and fumbling on the button, aiming, oh please no, why isn't it working — fortunately, in the nick of time, Baggo came to the rescue. The Bagon tanked the attack with that great thick skull of his. Though it didn't knock the feisty thing out of action, it came damn close. Connor was certain he was seeing stars when the attack landed, turning his bruised head with its burning hot eyes and unhinged mouth to the Fighting-type and preparing a counter-attack.

Not wanting to put Ronnie through any more of this, he was swiftly returned to his ball, Byrne taking his place on the field. Connor couldn't help but feel that Byrne's reckless independence was a blessing here, as he was certainly not in the headspace to order his Pokémon about.

Indeed, before Connor could even speak, Byrne had descended upon the Machop in a maelstrom of flapping feathers and slapping wings. Quick work was made of the Fighting-type as it was beaten to the floor, its own flailing punches and kicks failing to even land on Byrne or register on Baggo, flailing like a madman.

He would have been happier with this. However, from the corner of his eye, he noticed what looked like the word "spray" escape the Stunky's trainer's mouth, as the Stunky reared up to both Byrne and Baggo. Before his mind could even register the idea of returning Byrne to his ball, and as it seemed Reyes had no intention of returning Baggo, Connor's legs, without his consent, set off in motion towards the Stunky.

Tactical (and olfactory) effects of this plan aside, it certainly had the advantage of throwing both guards off for long enough for Baggo to take advantage. It did not, however, deter the spraying. While it didn't touch Connor's jacket, the spray was unleashed on his poor jeans, just long enough for the Bagon to rush through his legs and bash his head against the Stunky's, knocking it clean out.

The euphoria of victory was very short-lived, with Connor having enough time to return Byrne and raise his fist before the smell set in.

Oh, the smell.

The smell.

Connor froze with his fist in a celebratory pose as the smell set in. It smelt like he was drowning in a vat of sulphur, like he had been pelted by rotten eggs, and like he was in a room full of burning tires all at once. His eyes widened, pricked by acid tears. His stomach wrung itself inside out. One hand shot up to his nose and mouth, his cheeks filling up and his skin going a pale shade of green.

As ideas went, this had been perhaps his worst yet.

Grabbing the breast of his jacket and covering his mouth with it, he turned to the guards. Their macho demeanour had evaporated under the odious attack, and one turned to the other, who nodded; with that, they returned their Pokémon and ran off. How he wanted to do the same. How he wanted to just leave the mine, get clean, relax, watch the situation resolve itself, get his badge, explore the city and move on. But taking a back seat was not an option, and giving up was only going to upset everybody.

Reyes, meanwhile, had covered half of his face with his jacket; his face had gone similarly haggard and wide-eyed as he approached. If he had any semblance of a backup plan, he would have brought it out right about now. But he didn't. Nor was he going to run away and face the music of angry policemen and an angrier Gym Leader, now that he'd committed to this.

Turning to each other, they exchanging nods before soldiering on down the path.

Connor was hardly an expert on offices, but for what was a single room built into a mine, the boss' one felt very out of place. For every dollar that went into maintenance under the new owner, another went into this office, from the looks of things. Air conditioning blasted into his face as soon as he went in, sending shivers down to his bones. White light from above bathed him. It was a cold, white, fluorescent light that covered the entire room, right up until the towering mahogany bookcases at the other side.

Reyes made sure to leave the door open as he walked in. Neither of the pair dared say a word, or remove their jackets from their faces, for fear of exposing themselves to the stench that hung over them. They also didn't dare question why the room was so empty, either — what possible reason would the boss have to not be holed up in his office at all times, today of all days?

A thick book, locked and bound, sat in the dead center of the room on a desk. A chunky white computer sat on the opposite side of that desk, its body weathered, its screen dusty, its keyboard dirty. Beneath was a tower of drawers, wooden and apparently for personal use.

Connor turned to Reyes for answers. In reply, he glanced over at the computer, before grabbing the thick book and taking out a Pokéball.

Fair enough.

Plonking himself on the swivelling maroon chair, Connor pressed the power button with his free hand. The dim screen came to life, and with it a thick layer of incomprehensible nonsense. Error messages, programs not being able to run, bold text declaring "your PC is in danger!", and an unsightly amount of widgets as far as the eye could see.

"You have — five thousand, six hundred and three — problems with your files. Please scan your computer," announced a fruity voice, and Connor went white in the face as he scrambled to put the darn thing on mute.

Reyes, meanwhile, had his own issues. He found himself digging through the drawers of the desk for a key. As much as he wanted to — and boy, did he want to — using Baggo or Garra to open the book would have seen the thing get torn to shreds. Besides, he wasn't about to let his Pokémon anywhere near the Stunky smell.

The key was at the bottom of the bottom drawer, because of course it was, because nothing was ever easy. Digging it out of the desk, Reyes was panting by the time he jammed the damn thing in the lock and opened the book. Which led to his next problem: he knew absolutely nothing about finances. Fumbling through the ledger, he had no idea what he was reading. Was that a normal amount of money to get from selling coal? Who were any of these people? What was a bar doing, making transactions with a mining company — okay, actually, that didn't look right. His solution was to take a picture of every page he saw, but just in case, he took two pictures of that one before slamming the ledger shut, locking it back up, and throwing the key back in the drawer.

"Connor, you find anything?" he asked, finally gathering the confidence to remove his mouth from his jacket… and immediately gagging.

"N-no, there's just a bunch of dodgy stuff o-on the screen!"

Before either of them could do anything else, though, a terrible realisation dawned on the both of them.

The boss was coming.

Connor froze in his seat, his nails in his mouth, as it fell upon Reyes to think something — anything — that worked.

A bark echoed down the hall, closer and closer with every step this neatly-dressed man of about thirty-five took. "Hey! What the hell — what are you two doing in there?!"

Reyes sat on his answer for just a bit longer, turning to Connor and the computer as he came up with something.

The boss marched ever nearer, before standing just outside the door. "You have five seconds to answer me" — the smell reached his nostrils, forcing him to double over and hold his mouth — "Arceus, what's that smell?!"

Eyes watering, Reyes' look was nevertheless one of hope and triumph as he spoke. "We're the IT guys, er — nothing to be worried about! Well, er, we're new, we only just got hired — so we decided, 'hey, let's go pay the large man in charge a visit on the house, see if everything is in tip-top shape,' because, you know, what with everything being on fire… we figured you could use it! Don't worry about that smell, please, by the way; friend here got sprayed by a Stunky on the way in. You, ah, you wouldn't happen to have anywhere he could wash his jacket, do you?"

Trying to get a read on the boss as he thought about this, clearly a little skeptical, Reyes resisted the urge to even touch one of his Pokéballs. Connor didn't want confrontation, and so neither did he — therefore, this simply had to work. It couldn't not work.

"…Oh. I see, sorry about that." He took out a notebook, jotting something down before throwing it in Connor's direction. "Go show that to the policemen outside, let them know you have my permission to be in here, and go wash it in tomato juice or something. I'll stay here with, er…"

"Reyes."

"Ray, okay?"

Finally, a reprieve for Connor. He scanned over the scrawled handwriting — "10TH OCT. IT GUY, STUNKY SPRAY. WILL" — before he turned to the boss, who neither frowned nor smiled at him. Reyes looked okay with this, happily nodding at him, although something seemed to upset him about the boss. He nodded at the two, before darting off like a bullet, jamming the note in his jacket pocket as he did so.

Once Connor was out of sight and smell, the boss took a deep breath. "I must say, you IT guys are a different breed sometimes. Wonderful creatures. Shame we never see your folk around. Now that you're here, I'm really glad you came; I think my computer's a bit… y'know, broken. Take a look at this."

Huddling around the computer with the boss, Reyes saw the problem that Connor had come across — and, to his credit, he had made progress. However, the screen was just too full.

"Oh. Oh, see, I see the problem —" what was a problem computers had? "— bad anti-virus software, that is. First, what you gotta do is you gotta get rid of all these damn pop-ups. Now, this may take a while, but you just gotta keep clicking on those Xs until they all disappear. Just like that."

"Er — wait, actually, keep that one open to one side for now." The boss was firm in his assertion as he gestured to something on the screen. "Hot singles in the Oreburgh area, eh? What do you reckon? You down for some of that, eh?"

"I… don't think that's for me, boss."

"Hah! Your loss, idiot."

As Reyes finished sifting through the trash on the screen, he found himself asking just how much the boss knew about computers. He was no master hacker himself, but surely nobody was dumb enough to fall for that? If he fell for that, then just what else would he fall for…?

A look of concern on his face, Reyes turned to the boss. "You, uh, you wouldn't mind if I had a look at your emails, would you? It would be a real shot in the face if you accidentally downloaded one of those Porygon or something from a hacker. Wouldn't hurt to be safe."

"What the hell? No, you can't look at my emails."

Reyes hovered the cursor over the red X on the sole remaining advert. "Come on, chief… think of the hot singles."

Like a gun had been pointed at his least favourite Pokémon, the boss rolled his eyes and relented. "I'd dock your wages if you weren't…" he began, before composing himself. "Fine. You win this one, you ass. Hand the computer over."

"Many thanks." Somehow, this had inexplicably, actually worked. While the boss' back was turned, focused on the screen, his fists clenched in joy. Breaking out into laughter proved ever more tempting.

Until he heard a familiar growl approaching. One that stirred the boss.

"Roark?"

Oh dear.

Reyes turned in that direction, just eking out a welcoming smile and wave.

"You," growled the royally ticked off Gym Leader as he stormed into the room, practically punching the door open. "Why the hell didn't you listen to me? Did you not hear me when I said 'stay out of that mine?!'"

"What, him? You mean the IT guy?"

Roark could have sworn that burning hot magma seeped from his face as he went hoarse screaming. "He isn't an IT guy, you cretin! He's a complete moron who completely ignored Gym Leader's orders, and he has a lot to answer for up there!"

"Answer for? Ah, you have this whole thing all wrong, friend! I've just been showing the boss how to fix his computer, isn't that right?"

He paused for thought. "Hmm… well, I have to give you credit for that. This guy knows his stuff, after all."

In his seven years of being a gym leader, and sixteen of being a miner, he could only remember one thing that made him want to tear his face off and jump into the ocean more than this. It was just Roark's luck that that thing happened last night. Taking a deep breath through the nostril, he crossed his eyes and leaned back against in a dismissive fashion. "Okay, then; what's a midi file?"

"Good question! It's… well, uh… you know, it's a — it's a, what do you call it, it's a thing, isn't it?"

The Gym Leader flared his nostrils, his stare at Reyes unbroken. "Yes. It is a thing. Could you be a bit more specific?"

A "Nnnnnno?" squeaked out, before something went off in him, biting his lip and flaring his nostrils. "Okay, you know what — no, this isn't fair! I was only trying to help you! This guy here, he saw the massive crowds, standing around with peaceful chants and catchy slogans, and what the hell did he do? He hired more people! What you were doing, it wasn't working — so I got involved, and I was this close to pulling it off — but no! You just had to get involved, didn't you?!"

The boss turned to face Reyes, puzzled. "You mean… you're not an IT guy?"

"What sort of computer guy looks like this, you idiot Spoink?!"

"How old are you?" asked Roark.

"Eighteen, but I really don't see—"

He smiled. The fluorescent light reflected from his glasses in such a way, his eyes could not be seen. "I appreciate the sentiment, kid. I really do. It's noble that you're trying to help. But, as much as I wish it did, the world doesn't work the way you think it does. Trust me on this one — if you can't do diplomacy, and you can't handle yourself like an adult, then not only will you get yourself hurt, you'll get innocent people hurt. Good people joined me up there in that protest, good people that the police didn't have reason to attack until you decided to get involved. Good people that got hurt because of you. And in good conscience, as a Gym Leader, I can't let that fly; absolutely not on my watch. If you'd pulled off that cute little trick with a more powerful Pokémon, Arceus only knows who would have got involved."

"And if I had wheels, I'd be a bike! Besides, you're a Gym Leader! You make your living off violence, don't you? It's your duty to stand all the way up for what's right, or else you're making the League an absolute sham!"

"Oh, trust me, it's already a sham — what would you know about the inner workings of the League, anyway?"

The verbal melee was interrupted by the boss' fist pounding the desk. "Both of you, get the hell out of my office, right now! I certainly don't know how the hell you plan on getting things going again by throwing words at each other, but you're going to have to explain it to security — who should be on their way, right… about… now."

Sure enough, footsteps forced their way into earshot seconds later. Many footsteps. Certainly too many footsteps to be bumbling security guards — this was either a standing army or a mob. A mob of furious locals, familiar faces that Roark knew, and faces that knew Roark. Faces that had been up there to march with Roark, to stick it to the boss, to save their mine. Indeed, their footsteps were accompanied by cries of "SAVE OUR MINE! SAVE OUR MINE!"

The most significant of these faces was not calling out for Roark, but for Reyes, as a matter of fact — a face that towered above most of her peers, eyes shadowed by the pitch black shade of a pizza delivery cap.

"What the hell…?" spoke both Roark and the boss in unison.

Reyes was rendered significantly less speechless by this, the serious scowl that plagued his face replaced by a look of ecstasy and relief. "Oh! Hey!" he cried out, stepping out of the office and calling out. "Hey, Lucia! Come in! You'll know what to say!"

The front of the crowd stopped around her, turning all eyes to her. But she was not deterred by this — no, she relished it. A wry smile breaking on her face, she cracked her knuckles before making her way through the crowd and into the office.

"You dumb twink, you actually got somewhere. I'm impressed."

The boss, however, was not. "Wh- what's the meaning of all this? Did you know about this? Sorry, who the hell are you, a pizza delivery woman? Where's security — screw this, I'll call the police if I have to!"

"You're going to call more police than the ones we got past to get in?"

On this spectrum of being impressed, Roark fell somewhere in the middle. He was, however, deeply confused. "…We? As in, the folks out there, the marchers?"

"…Yes, who else? Reyes, I have to say, you're not half bad — I managed to get out of work because of what happened — like, everyone, and I mean everyone, was going at the police. There was a big scuffle, few people got hurt, but eventually, all the people you see behind me came through; police just scurried off, I guess."

This tided over Reyes somewhat. "Oh, that's good — er, did you happen to see Connor while you were on your way in?"

"Oh, I smelled him, that's for sure. He was a bit shaken, but he wasn't hurt, and I think he was being escorted to the Center when I saw him."

"Alright!" he replied, granting himself one single fist pump. "In any case, though, I did not understand much in the ledger — but I have pictures of what I may found — and I almost got onto the computer, but the Gym Leader here juuuust decided to step in at the last moment, before I could access any shady stuff. Because he didn't think violence was the answer, did he?"

Roark went red in the face, steam escaping through a nervous chuckle. "Haha, oh, you are the absolute worst — well, I still don't appreciate you disobeying me, and people did get hurt, but if so many people were okay with fighting the police then I don't suppose I'm left with much of a choice but to say go ahead, y'know, am I?"

It was Lucia's turn to look profoundly unimpressed. "Go ahead with what?" she asked, glaring at Roark. "Do you think the boss is just going to magically hand over his emails?"

"Finally, someone with some sanity!" The boss looked around at everyone, before looking back at his monitor. "These are confidential company emails, you're all insane if you think I'm gonna let any of you see it. I'm a person; I have my right to privacy!"

As soon as these words left his mouth, the other faces in the room recoiled in disgust. For the first time, as Roark and Reyes' eyes met, they agreed upon a consensus before Lucia began to speak. "I'm sorry, you said those are company emails — the company isn't a person. Unless you mean to say that you are this company — in which case, you're hurting real people. And Pokémon, too — I'm no trainer, but even I can tell you those damn nurses have been working overtime recently, all because of you!"

"Oh, please, you're being ridiculous. Without someone to run everything, there would be no company, and my duties of running it do not include showing absolute nobodies what needs to be hidden!"

Reyes stepped in. "Needs to be hidden? Could you sound more guilty if you tried? You're not making a strong case for yourself, and if I need to kick your ass, I will!"

"Fine, then I suppose I'll just have to delete everything first—"

Without hesitating, Roark grabbed a Pokéball, unleashing his Cranidos. Reyes did the same with Garra.

"You're threatening me?"

The Gym Leader did not waver as he stared down the boss, fist clenched. "Don't think I won't kick your ass on behalf of the League — on behalf of my people — if you don't get it off that chair in five seconds. Four. Three…"

The realisation that the boss had no security to call on, and two seconds before two Pokémon (and probably the most muscular person he had ever seen in the flesh) went to town on him all played a major part in his decision to launch himself off his chair and begin to make his exit.

Before he faced down the horde outside.

Reyes crossed his arms and turned to the boss, whose heart raced as he laid a hand on the door. "Where do you think you're going? I think it would be for the best if you stayed here with us until we say you can leave."

As the boss accepted his fate, Roark chanced upon one email of interest sent by the boss, simply titled Funds, to an account simply labelled "Spoony's."

To whom it may concern,

I have been told to email this account to inform you that the shipment should have reached your contact. You should receive a follow-up email about this from them; in any case, please find attached account information. I expect to receive payment in the next few days.

Many thanks,

Will