Chapter 53: The Phoenix and the Foretold
Fairy Hill was nestled within the grounds of a nature preserve, behind an untamed thicket of close-together trees and tall grasses. Such a place would be easier to fly to, but due to the prevalence of poachers, it was deemed a "no fly zone" for trainers, who would have to make the journey by foot. Permits could be obtained to catch a pokémon at the preserve, but there were limitations for those who gained entry: they were only allowed to bring two pokémon per person and only one park ball for capturing monsters.
One of the two pokémon that Cody brought was Reflet. The Espeon was still adjusting to her new powers, so he had her about as much as possible. Not only was it difficult for her to switch from physical attacks to psychic blasts, but she was still struggling to control the strength and finesse of her psychic abilities. A lot of her training included meditation, which involved her slowly lifting small objects with delicate telekinesis. But he could tell that she would be powerful. He wished he knew how to teach her how to use moves like Double Team, but from what he read, most psychic-types would figure stuff like that out over time.
The second pokémon with him was Ferrari, the Venipede. He had three reasons behind giving the bug this name. First, the shiny Venipede was one of the fastest members on his team. Second, his aggressive clicks in battle sounded sort of like the engine of a sports car when they all ran together. Third, the final evolution of the shiny would likely be bright red, which was a color he associated with the brand. Ferrari was doing better following instruction in battle, but he was still pretty cold towards his trainer. It was kind of like a business relationship between the two of them, but Cody supposed that that was alright.
Cody had a park ball too, but he didn't feel like using it. The last thing he wanted was to capture another pokémon when he was still busy trying to get Reflet and Ferrari up to speed. No, this trip was for Heather. There was a specific pokémon she wanted to catch, so he planned the route to pass by Fairy Hill. She had brought her Venipede, and Somnos with her, both of whom helped clear the tall grass as they walked. Behind him was Brooke, who held his hand as they crossed through the narrow path they blazed. It felt like they had spent hours in the tightly-knit trees, but finally, they reached the edge of the thick forest.
"Whoooaaa…" they all awed in unison at what they saw.
Beyond the woods they had crossed was an endless field of emerald-colored grass that ranged in height from the top of their shoes to as high as their heads, depending on where it grew. Off in the distance, a large willow tree stood tall, its long, slender leaves draping down around it like curtains. The grass was littered with wildflowers and among those flowers were Flabébé.
Countless Flabébé were spread throughout the field on the hill, sitting on different colored flowers and swaying in the breeze. They barely seemed to notice the trainers who had arrived, and why would they? Save a few violent intruders, the pokémon knew little but peace. Among them, a few Floette and Florges meandered about, almost like caretakers. But they too ignored the humans.
Each Flabébé wore what looked like little flower crowns on their heads, but like the flowers they sat on, it was a part of their bodies, somehow or another. Their bodies were around four inches tall or so, but their voices were louder than their size would suggest. And to the trainers, it sounded as if they were singing.
"So… which one do I pick?" Heather asked the other two trainers.
"Well, what's your favorite color?" Cody asked in return. Flabébé had five typical colorations: pink, yellow, orange, blue, and white. Occasionally, there were other colors that mutated their way into the gene pool, but with the hundreds of fairy-types in the field, Heather wouldn't search them all.
"It's not my favorite color, but I'm going with pink. But I'm going to look around, just in case I change my mind. This is all too amazing." She meandered off into the field, being careful to step around the flower fairies. One misstep could upset the lot. Despite being kind and gentle, the Flabébé line could get vicious if they felt threatened. That was the one caveat of catching a Flabébé. They were easy to capture without fighting them, but one wrong move could set them off.
Cody knelt next to the Flabébé closest to him, sitting on a white flower that was rooted into the ground. The fairy type met his gaze and hummed a cute and unfamiliar tune, sounding sort of like a child.
"Why don't you catch one?" Brooke asked, kneeling next to him.
"Already told you, too much to worry about with Reflet and-"
[Cody, I'm not helpless. Maybe I'd like a little sister,] his Espeon interrupted, sitting next to him to look at the tiny fairy.
"You'll get your chance." He put his left arm around Reflet and his right arm around Brooke, pulling them both close. "Brooke, why don't you catch this one? They are pretty powerful. Maybe-"
"No, I can barely take care of the three I have… but if I could, I would catch this one. Or one like it."
"Hmm?" the Flabébé seemed to query at her.
"What do you mean? Why this one?" Cody glanced up to keep an eye on both Ferrari and Goro. The Venipede was walking between the flowers, paying no mind to the fairies he passed. The Pancham was a little more curious, but cautious, almost as if he recognized his type disadvantage. Then he looked back at the Flabébé. He supposed that this one was no better or worse than any of the others, but Brooke had made her hypothetical decision so rapidly.
"Just the color. I like white. Well, white flowers, at least. You ever see a white rose?"
"Yeah, sure." He didn't know too much about flowers, but he had seen white roses before. Specifically, Valentines Day over a year ago when he was buying Angie flowers. "I mean, they're pretty, I guess."
"I always loved the design of roses, but white roses… I can't explain it, but it's something about the absence of color that makes it even more beautiful. I probably sound really pretentious right now, but do you get it?"
He didn't get it and he knew Brooke knew he didn't get it. Brooke was into poetry, so maybe this was some sort of real life poetry for her? So, he just shrugged in response.
"Do you think white-rose Roselia exist?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.
"They do, but they don't exist in the wild. Breeders sell them, but those Budew cost a fortune. If I had the money…"
"Maybe I can get you one someday?" he suggested with a half-smile.
"More money than you make," she clarified, resting her head on his shoulder. "Maybe when you're a champion someday."
"Yeah, maybe then," he agreed. Still, he wanted to google that when he got back to a computer. They couldn't cost that much, could they?
[Is that realistic?] Reflet asked him, and only him. Brooke didn't seem to hear it, so Espeon must have restricted the telepathic channel to him. [It could be years before we become champions... If we become champions.]
He couldn't say anything back to her. If he said anything out loud, Brooke would hear, and his Espeon wasn't able to read his mind, even if he allowed her access to it, at least not yet. He could only give her a look of uncertainty.
[Maybe you could get her one of those white roses sometime? It's no Budew, but it's simple.]
He nodded. It was simple. But he wouldn't do it so soon after the conversation. He'd rather wait until she forgot about what they had talked about so he could surprise her. Reaching forward, prodded the little Flabébé with his index finger. The little pokémon cooed in reply. She had far less to concern herself with.
"Please tell me it's almost lunch."
[It's 11:20 AM. We could eat now if you'd like.]
"No, nobody else is. I don't want to be that guy."
[Nobody cares.]
"If I've learned anything from fieldwork, it's that you never want to stand out when it's not necessary."
Frank sighed and looked at the computer screen. Then, his gaze drifted to the window outside of his cubicle. He felt fortunate that he had a window to look out of when a good percent of the floor didn't, but it wasn't enough. He missed the field. He missed being outside. He missed anything that wasn't office work.
His "promotion" was a mixed blessing. He was getting paid better and the job was far less risky. Instead of recruiting in the field, he was now coordinating a large number of the organization's recruiters and moles in across Skitrex. Having that much power and control was cool, but he felt like a caged Rattata, constantly being eyed by a flock of Fearow. In the field, he was his own man. Even though he had to report everything he did to his superior, there was a certain amount of freedom, being out by himself. Now, he was a superior in his position, but he felt watched. If his notes had even the slightest flaw, he'd get an earful. He had to have an "appropriately" short haircut and he had to wear a suffocating, button-down shirt, tie, and slacks, just in case some ritzy asshole in a suit decided to come over to his floor and pass judgment over the way he looked. Hours staring at a computer, transcribing phone calls and emails into notes, doing all sorts of meaningless busy work… if it weren't for the satisfaction of helping the world, he would rather be hawking cheap jewelry on the street, conning suckers with unwinnable gambles, and the occasional shady deal in between. That life was worth more than money to him. But he would do what he could for the greater good, which he ultimately saw as more important than his selfish desires.
The job wasn't completely awful. For one, he was often invited to some of the extended circle meetings, including Ezekiel's disciples and multiple lower ranking members of the circle. Usually, all he did was observe, but he loved that he got to see more of the Brotherhood's "after hours" activities. He also had Isaac with him, who lightened the load by scanning all the physical paperwork and paraphrasing what was read to his trainer. Mr. Mime were intelligent enough for that gig, thankfully. The mime seemed to like this job better than kitchen duty or field work. It suited his lazy disposition and the office coffee was decent. Drinking coffee all day while sitting around on his ass was Isaac's dream come true.
A second pokémon was in the cubicle as well: an Unown. Frank knew that the Brotherhood was collecting them, but he was unsure what they were for, aside from unlocking ancient doors. It definitely wasn't just the doors, because the Brotherhood had already gathered thousands of them. Nevertheless, there were so many Unown that the surplus were being given out to members who had been with the organization for a year or longer. They would be taken from their trainers if "needed for higher purposes" (whatever that meant), but they'd be given back later.
Frank had requested an Unown shaped like the letter F, and he was granted that much. The Unown (affectionately named "Eff") was pretty low maintenance. It didn't need feeding, as it fed off particles in the air, giving the surrounding air a fresh feeling. The mysterious pokémon often just floated in place, occasionally chirping and nudging its trainer. On its own, it was his weakest pokémon, but as a sub-par trainer, he didn't care. He liked its simple companionship, even if it couldn't talk like his other psychic-type.
[Heads up. The boss is coming. I can hear his footsteps.]
One upside of having his pokémon with him was that he was never caught off guard, thanks to the mime's psychic detection. He went back to typing as if he hadn't stopped, and when his boss arrived at his cubicle, he looked like the perfect employee.
"Frank, working hard or hardly working?" his superior joked.
Come on, Rudy, find a new joke. Frank looked over and up at his boss. The middle-aged Rudy Greene was as generic as they came. His ginger hair was on its last limbs, as most of it had fallen out, and he had a face that Frank would have forgotten if he hadn't had to see it every day. But it wasn't his boss's looks that bothered Frank. Rudy was a nice guy and a decent boss, but his painfully bland personality made the younger man resent him even further, on top of his dreadfully boring line of work.
"Hey, Rudy," he sighed, forcing a smile on his face. "More paperwork?"
"Yup," his manager replied, oblivious to his distaste, putting a fresh stack on the edge of the desk. "But, something else. You've been called up to the 49th floor."
That perked him up. The 49th floor was where Ezekiel's office was. He had been called there a few times, though that information was kept pretty confidential. Rudy was the only man on their floor who knew about these meetings, but he didn't know of Frank's position among the outer rim of the inner circle. But at that point, he must have expected something.
"Thanks, Rudy." He looked over at Isaac, who was still sipping his coffee. "Field trip?"
[Sounds fun. Let's go.]
"Very good. I still need the Graywood report by 3," Rudy reminded him before walking back to his office.
"Joy…" Frank muttered to himself, but he was happy to get out of his cubicle, even if it was just for a little bit. "Let's move."
Frank and his Mr. Mime quickly left the office space and headed towards the nearest elevator in the hallway. The wait for the elevator to arrive felt endless, but again, anything but the office was great. When it finally arrived, he rode it to the 49th floor with his pokémon.
[So… promotion?] his pokémon suspected.
"Probably not. He says I'm doing great where I am. Maybe a raise?"
[Just as long as we aren't back in the field. I like this job.]
"I've met Snorlax with more motivation than you," Frank quipped. Field work would be nice, but he didn't think it would be that. Still, this meeting was on the fly, so perhaps it was good news? He could only hope.
The 49th floor was mostly private offices. It was far quieter than his floor, so if Frank was the type of person to wear a suit, this would be the place to be. It wasn't long until he reached the Father's door. He gave it a few knocks, hoping that it would be a raise after all. He'd still be miserable, but at least he'd be miserable and able to afford a nicer apartment.
"Come in!" Ezekiel shouted out from within.
Father Ezekiel's office was beautiful. The big window in the background offered a fantastic view of the city and the office itself was almost grand in its aura. Both sides of the office were lined with built-in shelves, filled with books. On the center of both the left and right walls were flatscreens, each displaying a major news channel covering current events, although the volume was low. The man's mahogany desk was nicer than the ones he had at his temporary offices that Frank had seen. Several computer monitors lined the left side of the desk and numerous papers covered remaining surface area. The Father was very busy with his work, apparently. The leader's Slowking sat in a chair near the window, reading a book it was levitating in front of its face, while his Houndoom sat by his side. The dog stood up upon Frank's arrival but quickly relaxed as soon as she saw it was him. She was used to seeing him by then.
"Come, sit down!" Ezekiel beckoned, motioning towards the two chairs. Frank and Isaac did as they were told and sat before their boss. Upon closer inspection, Frank could see the dark bags underneath Ezekiel's eyes. The older man's hair seemed to be slightly grayer than he remembered as well. His job must have been stressful, running his underground brotherhood.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Frank asked.
"Of course," he said, pushing the papers in front of him to the side. "How's the job? Treating you any better?"
"No… not really," Frank sighed. He didn't feel uncomfortable saying this as he already told Ezekiel how he felt about the position, given how honest they were with each other. His admission didn't affect the Father's tired but jovial tone.
"Well, keep at it. You may not realize it, but your productivity has been astounding. You've been a far more useful asset to us here at headquarters since your direction and experience have helped countless others succeed as you have." The older man's smile made him feel a little bit better about the job he despised. "But down to business: I do have a field assignment for you today, though it's a little bit different than what I've asked of you before. There will be no penalization towards you, should you turn the offer down, but I'll thrown in a nice bonus for you if you accept."
The mention of the bonus was almost missed, as hearing "field assignment" excited him. He didn't care if it was training new recruiters or going along for observation like he did with Paulson up north. But before he could accept the job, Isaac decided to run his mouth about it.
[Superior One, with all due respect, we don't have to fight, right?] the Mr. Mime queried. [I can't speak for my trainer, but I really do not miss being out in the cold all the time.]
[Exercising the body is just as important as stimulating the mind. You'd do best to remember that, young one,] Wisdom the Slowking responded, not looking up from his book.
[Whatever. Snob…]
Frank thankful that Isaac had limited the telepathic channel between the two of them because that Slowking could have ended them in an instant if he felt so moved to do so.
"You may have to fight, but you shouldn't have to. We're sending in one of our best extraction squads, led by Salem, and he's packing a secret weapon. So long as you stay near him, you should be safe. That's all I require of you and your trainer," Ezekiel said, giving a kind nod to Isaac.
"Wait, what?" This sounded all too serious way too quickly. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it, but I need to know what it is first." He still felt a bit uneasy about some of the work that the organization was involved in, but his loyalty would always be there. He just wanted a briefing.
"Naturally," his boss agreed. "You remember when I told you about Regice?"
That was nearly a year ago, but Frank remembered. He nodded, curiously wondering what this was about. Had the Father found what they were looking for?
"And do you remember Cody Storm?"
There was a name he hadn't heard in awhile. He hadn't seen or asked about Cody in nearly a year. He knew that the boy had met with Ezekiel and that he was still on the watchlist, but otherwise, he knew nothing. But he remembered and he acknowledged his superior.
"We've been keeping an eye on him. There's a mole in the group he travels with and she's kept us updated. So far, he has yet to indicate any ill will against us. That is good. However, he has stumbled onto something very beneficial to us: Regice, within the Gracen Research Institute. Purely accidental, mind you, but we received the report and we know what we must do. I'll have you briefed on the subject, but I need you to accompany Salem on this mission."
"Okay…" He wasn't exactly sure why he was needed for this. He had barely any training in terms of extraction or any related field. But something else bothered him. "Why Storm? I mean, is he really worth this much effort? He's just a kid?"
"Do this favor for me and I'll tell you," Ezekiel offered firmly. "A favor for one of our most valued secrets. I'd say that's a good deal for you."
"Okay, sure," Frank agreed, "but why am I needed on that mission? I don't have the training and if Salem is smart enough to have his bases covered-"
"Salem is a genius, but I'm sure you've heard of his history with us," the Father interrupted with a groan. "He's what one might call a loose cannon and he's taken unnecessary, aggressive action on previous missions. We don't want to kill if we don't have to. To be honest, I wish we could have used more negotiation with this one, but no such luck. Dr. Blake Merrick, the head researcher of Gracen, he's not somebody we can work with. We need this Regice and we need to do it with minimal bloodshed or cause for concern. You have proven time and time again to be excellent with de-escalation, and so, I need you to act in my stead. I'm granting you the authority to keep Salem in line on this mission. Let him carry out his plans that I have approved of, but keep him steady. Sound doable?"
"Sure…" Frank sounded as unsure as he felt about the situation. He had never met Salem, but he knew that he had been described as being difficult, which was supposedly a very extreme understatement. But why him. "Why me? I feel-"
"If you need me to spell it out for you, it's because I've been grooming you for leadership within our organization," Ezekiel answered bluntly, keeping his tone even as not to sound annoyed at his disciple's cluelessness. "You're a success story. Unlike Lily, Paulson, or my grandson, you didn't have the advantage of nepotism or name recognition to get to where you are today. You've risen to my circle because of your success. You may not be as good of a trainer as some of my followers, but there are different kinds of strengths that I need in the Brotherhood. Your compassion and your charisma are traits that are not overlooked. Choosing to pass on this mission will not affect your standing with me or my plans for your involvement in the future. But there will be rewards to reap. So…?"
Leadership?
For a moment, he was speechless. But how could he pass this up? Even if it wasn't held against him, Father Ezekiel had more faith in him than he had in himself.
"I'm in," he answered with a nod of the head.
"Excellent. The details of the mission will be passed to you. But that is all for now. You may return to your office."
"Thank you," Frank answered. He turned to leave, but Ezekiel spoke again.
"I know you have your doubts about what we are doing, Frank. Seeing the underbelly of who and what we are is never pretty for anybody. But remember, our ultimate goal is far much greater than the sum of us all."
What? How did he know about my doubts? But Frank nodded.
"I won't let you down, Father," Frank replied. That's all he had to say about that.
"I know," Ezekiel affirmed confidently. "Now go. We will speak more at a later date."
Alright… For an optional mission, he felt the rising stakes to impress.
Three black vans and one black sedan. Thirty-five men and women, all dressed in their black Cipher-esque uniforms. Two hundred and nine pokémon between them all. Not even the stars and moon betrayed them under the cloudy, nights sky. The headlights of their vehicles were on, but that was it. And they all headed towards the same location, but from different roads, as not to draw any unnecessary attention.
Frank drove the sedan, but while the drive had been smooth thus far, it couldn't have been more awkward. In the passenger's seat was Salem Douglas, one of the highest ranking disciples of Father Ezekiel and one of his grandchildren. But he did not rise to his position on nepotism alone. Salem was an excellent trainer, a brilliant strategist, and a certified genius. But there were many less excellent qualities of this young man.
For one, he was ugly. Of course, that had nothing to do with his positive or negative qualities, but the man's crooked nose, his cat-like eyes, his smile when he chose to show it… He also had alopecia, leaving him hairless. Some members of the Brotherhood would make fun of the way he looked. "Lex Luthor" was the most common nickname, but nobody would say it to his face.
They never said anything ill in front of him because most members of the organization feared him. Salem was sadistic and after seeing how vicious his pokémon were, nobody wanted to be on his radar. He also had a long history of unnecessary violence, which was why Frank was there to reel him in if things got out of hand. Compared to Salem, Casper the snatcher was a cupcake. Frank figured that Ezekiel was only using his sociopathic grandson for his skills to accomplish the Brotherhood's goals, since his behavior did not represent the organization's morality at all.
Frank had tried to start a conversation with his superior a few times, but nothing came of it, as the young man would not speak. Even Isaac, who sat in the backseat, seemed afraid. He wouldn't even send telepathic messages to Frank alone out of fear of the rumors that Salem had psychic powers of his own that could possibly allow him to intercept those messages. The Mr. Mime told his trainer earlier that he sensed no such powers, but he was too afraid to assume that was true.
Just do as you were instructed, Frank thought to himself for the millionth time during that car ride. Stay close to him and only interfere if-
"So, you're the one who's babysitting me tonight," Salem finally spoke. The way he said that, it was as if he had just entered the car. They had been in that car together for hours and he hadn't said anything until then.
"Um… I wouldn't put it that way…" Frank said, unsure of how to respond. Technically, his passenger wasn't wrong, but he didn't want to say anything upsetting.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" He didn't sound mad, but the question shook Frank as if Salem was angry with him. "I was at the meeting when this plan was brought up. I'm the one who suggested we infiltrate the institute in this way. Of course, they wouldn't let me do it unless I was supervised. My grandfather can't do it right now, Lily is overseas, Tyrone is off doing some goodwill charity bullshit… so they set me up with you, the fly on the wall at our last few extended circle meetings. Do you think this was wise of my grandfather?"
"I… I don't understa-"
"When I was told that you would be holding my leash tonight, I looked at your file. You have a commendable record thus far, having brought numerous peons to our ranks, and you were spoken of by your supervisors as being charismatic, charming, and friendly. But you were also reported as being a sub-par trainer for the amount of time and effort you've put into battling. So tell me, what makes my grandfather think I'll listen to you? It would be very easy to 'erase' you tonight if I wanted to. Tell me, who would stop me from doing as I please then? These soldiers who are with us will listen to me. They wouldn't even bat an eye if I were to 'take care of you.'"
Even though he didn't take his eyes off the road, Frank could feel Salem glaring holes into the side of his head. He could also tell that the man was smiling that crooked smile at him. He didn't think he'd be threatened by Salem and he was realizing that he was right: what could he do?
"You know, Tyrone Paulson said something interesting to me when I was working with him earlier this year," Frank began, his voice quaking ever so slightly. "He told me that you wanted this Regice. Do you really think he would let you have it if something happened to me?"
"You're nothing," Salem scoffed.
"You're right. I'm very replaceable. But the Father is testing both of us tonight. If you want to get what you want, you'll have to play along."
"Of course," Salem agreed reluctantly, as he knew the answer already. "This is just the beginning. This Regice is my book of Genesis. I've seen a lot more than you could ever comprehend. I've seen both the light of Heaven and the face of darkness, and I know that I am destined for a grand future in this world that we'll shape."
What's this gibberish? But he forgot all about it when one of the vans pulled in front of him from them. It had emerged from a fork in the road and it flashed its lights to signal them. It was time.
Frank followed the van until it met up with the other two. They had all pulled off the road into a grassy grove that would be easy to leave through when the time came. They were about a football field's length away from the high walls of the Gracen Institute and all thirty-five of the Brotherhood members on the mission unloaded from their vehicles. Aside from varying heights, builds, and secondary sexual characteristics, everybody looked identical in their black bodysuits and their black, visored helmets that concealed their faces, but didn't make it any more difficult to see in the dark. Frank realized that he hadn't put his on at this point, so he did just that, but not before being recognized.
"Frank. It's been awhile."
He knew it was Casper. That chilly, monotone voice gave him away. Frank looked over to see one of his black-suited comrades, and he would never have guessed it was Casper otherwise. Scratch that; he noticed the trainer was squeezing a stress ball with one of his gloved hands. It wasn't a total giveaway, but that sort of behavior was one of his trademarks.
"Casper. I didn't know you'd be here," Frank admitted. Then again, he didn't spend too much time reviewing every mook Salem had chosen for this job.
"Don't like groups. But I'm good at this. Not my kind of mission, but I serve the Brotherhood regardless."
"Right…" Frank acknowledged with a nod. He sort of understood what Casper meant by that, as he preferred as much stealth as possible when he worked. In reading Salem's report, Frank saw there was an estimated 94% chance that they would have to engage in some sort of confrontation on this mission, a number that wouldn't decrease, even if they brought in a smaller party. The problem was that even if they could get in undetected (thanks to their man on the inside, the groundskeeper, and his security code), the facility was manned 24/7. Even when they reached the building where the Regice was contained, they would have to make contact with one of the employees because none of them, not even the mole, knew the passcode to get to the Regice. They could blast their way in, but they wanted to leave as little of a footprint as possible.
"Listen," Salem hissed. Every member of the squad silenced their whisperings at the leader's hiss. "Release your dampeners."
By "dampeners", Salem meant Sableye. Already, each of the team members were granted a Sableye. In the past year, the Brotherhood had been collecting Sableye almost as fast as they were collecting Unown. These pokémon were given basic battling training, but they were mostly trained to be receptive of commands from any trainer they worked with, as they were passed between trainers a lot. This was because ghost-types could dampen sound and visual image of others. It wasn't a perfect fix for stealth since it didn't make them invisible or anything; it really worked at a distance. Up close, a person may be quieter, but they'd be clear as day. But still, it was a good protection for missions like this, especially when it was as dark as it was that night. Sableye were also chosen for this role for being part dark-type as well. Ghost-types had a difficult time detecting dark-types, making them useful against guard ghosts like the Dusknoir that resided within the walls.
Every member of the thirty-five man group released a Sableye, including Frank. The tiny, purple ghosts, their diamond-like eyes shining, immediately climbed up onto their respective trainers' backs and disappeared as if they were absorbed into their trainers' skin. They were light as feathers, almost as if they weren't even there. Frank looked around and to him, nobody looked any less visible. He assumed it worked from a distance and he was comforted by the fact that his Sableye would defend him if necessary.
Salem continued delivering his instructions. "A review: A-Squad goes first; use the groundskeeper's code to get in and checks if the coast is clear. From there, use your dampeners. Not just for humans, but for the Dusknoir that's on guard as well. The regular pokémon probably won't care unless you bother them, but be silent. In an emergency, be ready to contact me or one of the squad leaders via communicator. But your main goal is to spread out through the facility's grounds. Be our eyes. And take out any guards and guard pokémon you see. Casper, I need you to reach marked facility. In all likelihood, we will be spotted at some point, so I need you on the inside to make sure we have entry and that nobody leaves that building. Got it?"
"Aye, aye," Casper said, turning the delightful phrase into something dull. Nevertheless, it was a good role for him and his stealth.
"B-Squad, my squad, go with me to the building where the Regice is kept. Follow my word to the letter on step by step instructions." He turned to Frank and nodded towards Isaac. "Keep that Mr. Mime out. We may need him to throw up defensive walls and barriers."
[Of course,] Isaac answered, oddly respectful. The sassy mime seemed far more obedient, probably out of fear.
"C-squad, we need you at the southern tip of the grounds where the backup power generators are located. Those need to be disabled. I want this place in the dark. Otherwise, D-Squad, I need the main power cut from every building except the main production facility. E-Squad, I need you to get the landlines cut and the airwaves jammed. I don't want any of them contacting the outside, whether it be by phone, email, or radio. And I need you to hack into the security cams. Get them offline and delete any footage taken during our time here. Got it?" He waited for the nods before turning to the last three. "F-Squad, stay near our vehicles. We need a clear path to a clean getaway. And finally, Erica will be coordinating us from the van." He nodded towards the woman who was leaning against one of the vans. She would be relaying messages between the groups as well as viewing the field via the miniature cameras mounted in each helmet. Salem often ran this part of his operations himself, but he had a vested interest in being on the field during this mission.
Compared to the threats and gibberish Salem was spouting earlier, this was far more straightforward and coherent. The grandson of the Father was definitely in the zone and he clearly loved it. South of his visored eyes was a small, smug, smirk.
"I chose all of … well, most of you," Salem continued, turning his head to Frank briefly before turning back, "because you're the best of the best. Failure will not be tolerated. That being said, as you've all read, there will likely be some confrontation with that ghost lurking about. This Dusknoir is tough. I'm talking twelfth tier and beyond tough. So do not let your guard down. So…" He nodded. "From the ashes, we shall rise."
"From the ashes, we shall rise," everybody repeated, their voices low and clear. It was spooky how in unison everybody was when they said it. And then, the extraction began.
The entire squad, save those working outside the walls, approached the entrance building attached to the main wall of the institute. They couldn't go over or under the wall, due to the security measures put in place to keep the pokémon inside the walls in and those on the outside of the wall out. Teleporting over wouldn't work for that reason as well. Crossing that border would attract too much attention too early. Instead, the members of A-Squad continued past the main building and to the large garage door that was big enough for semis to pass through. Next to that door was the smaller maintenance door with a keypad. The leader of A-Squad used the groundskeeper's code to unlock the door and one by one, each member of the ten squad member disappeared inside. For a time, the rest of the group waited beyond the view of the security cameras that scanned the perimeter. Roughly ten minutes later…
"A-Squad in position: Squads C, D, and E, proceed," Erica directed, her voice almost sounding synthetic over the communicators.
The next thirteen members filed through the door, spacing each group out by three minutes. Frank could only guess the directions each group would go once inside. Finally, Erica spoke again.
"B-Squad: proceed."
Salem subtly motioned his hand forward and the seven other members of his squad followed him forward. Past the cameras' blindspots, past the door, and into the institute's grounds. The land was as spacious as Frank had guessed they would be. Under the cloudy night sky, they could barely see anything, but Salem knew where to go: northward, up the hill, towards the big building. They moved silently and slowly, listening for all sounds that may have been their downfall. They all stood calmly, though Isaac was a bit uncomfortable, constantly glancing around, ready to throw up a barrier at a moment's notice.
"C-Squad in position."
So far, so good. Frank looked to his right to see a few Girafarig sleeping together near the border wall. One of them awoke to see them pass, but as quickly as it awoke, it fell back asleep. They had passed numerous pokémon on their walk, but most didn't care. Many didn't even wake up to see them so maybe the Sableye were doing their job?
"D-Squad in position."
[This is going too well,] his Mr. Mime commented, only to him. [Either that ghost is asleep or something bad is about to happen.]
Frank gave his pokémon the eye. He didn't believe in getting jinxed, but he was irritated with his pokémon's commentary nonetheless. He really wanted to make it through this mission without an issue.
"E-Squad in position. Communication to the outside has been jammed."
Alright, just us. And that's when he jinxed himself
"Hurrooooooow!"
Everything went completely dark as a black shade passed over their vision. Frank blinked his eyes, but nothing changed. They must have been found, but by what?
"Keep calm and release your Unown!" Salem ordered.
Frank and the others grasped their pokeballs and unleashed the floating letters into the air. Slowly, they regained their eyesight, but not by their own doing. The Sableye latched to their backs had leapt forth onto the enormous Dusknoir that had found them. The tiny ghosts scratched and clawed, but they could only distract the bigger phantom for so long. With a ghostly pulse, the Dusknoir blasted the Sableye off and shot a Shadow Ball at the party, but Isaac readied a forcefield to block the shot. The field shattered upon impact, but it bought them time. Above them, the Unown shot a collective Hidden Power, their force combining in a powerful blast orb. The orb missed the target but exploded upon hitting the earth.
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm went off for a brief moment before being cut off mid-siren. The lights of every building went dark, save the target. Both the main power and the backup generators must have been cut.
"The guards have been alerted. Stay vigilant! A-Squad will dispatch appropriately," Erica notified.
The eight trainers of B-Squad hid within the Mr. Mime's protective bubble. While the cluster of Unown swirled above them, the Sableye kept trying to swarm the bigger ghost, but to no avail.
"Three guards incapacitated."
"We can't be caught off guard! Release your powerhouses!" Salem shouted.
The closest thing Frank had to a "powerhouse" was Isaac, but he was busy guarding the lot. Instead, Frank released Pascal, his Buizel. The little rescue pokémon was decently tough, but very outclassed and undersized next to Salem's elite's pokémon: an Arcanine, a Crabominable, a Magcargo, an Empoleon, a Grumpig, and a Bisharp. However, Salem's pokémon of choice was even smaller than his Buizel: it was a minuscule little thing that swayed like a paper bag in the wind. One couldn't see its body, as it hid underneath a sheet that resembled a Pikachu… a poorly made Pikachu at that. But despite its bizarre appearance and tiny size, Mimikyu were not to be trifled with, especially not Salem's. The little ghost was eight inches of fury.
While the Mimikyu began its ritualistic Swords Dance, the other seven guarded it with a forward assault. Pascal and the Arcanine charged first with an Aqua Jet and a Flare Blitz respectively, but the Dusknoir effortlessly swatted both of them back. The Bisharp, Empoleon, and Crabominable charged forth next, but the Dusknoir trapped all four in a Night Shade. The Gumpig's Psychic was cut off as the ghost descended into the earth, reemerged next to the pig, and Shadow Punched it. The Magcargo hit a Flamethrower, but the ghost barely noticed as he punched out the lava beast, waving the flames from its fist afterward. It launched another Shadowball at the group, shattering the forcefield, and when it shot a second at those inside, the Mimikyu hopped in, blocking the shot. A sickening "crack" was heard upon impact, and when the Mimikyu landed, his disguise seemed to be broken at the neck, but he didn't seem all that distraught. In fact, he moved as if he wasn't hurt at all. The Dusknoir readied a Shadow Punch, but the Mimikyu countered with a punch of his own: a Sucker Punch. With lightning speed, the tiny ghost reemerged in front of his foe and struck the big beast with a long, black arm from under his sheet. Before the Dusknoir could retaliate, the smaller ghost struck the bigger one with multiple, swiping Shadow Claws. And then, the Duskinoir was struck with a Hidden Power by the Unown. That really left a mark, and the Mimikyu followed this up by playing rough, striking the foe with fairy swipes. By now, the other seven pokémon were back up and dogpiling the Dusknoir and beating it senseless. Strong as he was, he could only hold off the onslaught for so long.
"The guard dog has been handled," Salem said out loud in his report to Erica.
"You should be clear," all of them heard over the communicators. "Ten security guards and their pokémon have been dispatched by A-Squad and some of the others. There may be guards inside the facility, but you shouldn't meet much opposition."
"Roger. Move forward," Salem ordered. The group did as they were ordered, though they did not call their pokémon back. Stealth was out of the question at that point, but the Sableye all returned to the shadows of their trainers.
When they reached the building, they found the door locked down, as expected. The only reason the power remained on for the building was because the door that guarded the Regice was likely too reinforced for them to break through without creating too much damage. They wanted to leave as little a trace as possible, but the outer door would be the exception. No time to waste with outside locks.
"Paula, Garrett, you know what to do."
Two of the masked trainers nodded in response to their leader's orders. Paula ordered her Crabominable to Ice Punch the door. A few punches later, the door was still intact, but it was dented and frozen through. Garrett's Arcanine followed this up with a Flare Blitz that shattered the door upon impact.
Salem motioned forward and the trainers returned their Unown and their bigger pokémon. Isaac and the Mimikyu stayed out for defense in the tight corridor. Only one guard came across them as they navigated the halls and the tiny ghost made quick work of him.
Finally, they reached the room they were looking for: the one with the reinforced steel door that they would need a code for. But they weren't alone. Several guards and scientists stood in front of the door, but they all looked sweaty and nervous, unsure of what was going on or who had infiltrated the institute. By then, more squad members had shown up. Now that C-squad was done with what they needed to do, they had shown up to lend a hand.
"Dr. Blake Merrick!" Salem announced as he stepped forward, pointing at a long-haired doctor in a white lab coat, who unlike the others, looked more pissed off than afraid. "We have taken the grounds, neutralized your security force, and cut off communication with the outside world. You are at our mercy and you will do as we say." Salem snapped his fingers and his Mimikyu responded by stepping forward, its long, black appendages emerging from under its now limp Pikachu-like disguise.
"I can see that," Merrick said through gritted teeth. He stepped forward, trying not to falter in the face of the unknown. "Without The Reaper, we cannot defend ourselves further. What is it that you want?"
"What's behind that door," the squad leader answered, pointing at the steel door behind them. At that request, Merrick's face finally turned fearful, as it paled and his mouth fell. He quickly regained his composure and tried to hold his ground.
"I don't know what it is you're looking for, but you won't find it there," the doctor answered, his voice icy.
"Then you will have no problem giving me the access code," Salem replied. "We don't care about the pokémon up here or your zinc or your precious research. Let us through that door so we can get what we came for and then we will be on our way. You will never hear from us again."
The doctor would not give Salem the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, he continued that icy stare.
"You know, it's true what they say about you. Stubborn to a tee. Well, no matter. I know how to make you talk." He snapped his fingers, and again, is Mimikyu knew what to do. The shrouded ghost knocked Merrick backward with a strong slap from one of his arms while grabbing the nearest scientist with the other and drawing him in. The old man, probably in his late sixties, tried to escape, but Salem swiftly moved into position, holding him from behind and bending his right arm at the shoulder in a way that definitely did not look natural.
"Now, tell me the code before I break this old man's arm. And if you give me the wrong number, even by a single digit, I will kill all of you without a single moment of hesitation."
Frank got out his cellphone, ready to take down the number. He wondered if the Father was okay with this violence or the threats, but he wouldn't step in just yet. They needed to get past those doors.
"Let him go!" Merrick shouted, getting back to his feet and looking slightly worried again. "He has nothing to do with this." The other scientists and doctors look horrified, murmuring to each other about what they were witnessing.
"I know you won't talk, but maybe he will," Salem said, almost casually as he continued his hold. "How about it, gramps? You got something to say?"
"I'm not going to say a word to thugs like you," the old man spat as he struggled, though he wouldn't be able to overpower his aggressor.
Salem held the hold, chuckling. "Brave and stupid. My favorite combination." In a quick, jerking motion, he bent the shoulder even further and everybody could hear a sick cracking noise. He broke the man's arm at the shoulder and members of both sides, including Frank, cringed at this. Salem let the man drop to the floor and in another fluid motion, he pulled his pistol out of his holster, pointing it at the man's head. "Now, if pain won't convince you, maybe a threat of death will. Give me the code, or you die. And if you don't give me what I want, I will repeat this process with each one of you until I get what I want. Is that something that you want on your-"
"Stop, stop!" Merrick finally cut in, stepping forward, prompting Salem to point the gun at him instead. He looked worried again over his employee's predicament. "I will not let this continue. I'll give you the code, and it will work! I promise you. Just don't kill him."
"Very good," Salem answered, pointing the gun back down at the old man, who was struggling to even hold himself up on the ground. "And…?"
"6675902*218," the doctor answered.
"Mmm, now was that so hard?" Salem asked, smiling back at the doctor. "That's a pretty long code for a door that's guarding nothing, though. Was it worth me breaking this man's arm over? Still…" He knelt, placing the end of his pistol against the back of the old man's head, the touch forcing the man to freeze in in horror. "You took too long and we're on a schedule. There should be repercussions for-"
"Enough!" Frank finally stepped forward. Salem looked up at him, glaring behind the visor of his helmet, but Frank felt comfortable enough. He knew that if Salem retaliated, there would be consequences.
"You got what you needed. There is no need to spill blood over this. It's not what he'd want."
Salem just stared at him, scowling.
"You may outrank me, but I follow him," Frank reminded him. "Not you. And he ordered that I keep you from acting outside of necessity. So-"
"Yes, we've been over this. I know why you're here." Salem stood up, re-holstering his gun, and looking very unsatisfied. "Consider yourself lucky that I'm being watched, old man." He looked over to the other captives. "You will all live, so long as you do not interfere. We won't demand that swear your secrecy of this event, as we have no plans on returning here anyway, but you will find it in your best interest to leave us and our purpose be." He looked back at C-squad and nodded. "Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don't move or talk. If any of them so much as looks at you funny, kill them all."
Okay, that's a bit harsh too, Frank thought to himself, but he wouldn't report that unless they actually went through with it.
Salem had one of his men input the code into the door's terminal and it opened. He led the seven other trainers with him into the first of the cold rooms. After they all arrived inside, the door shut, but it was not problematic. They had the code to get out and their men on the outside knew the code to get back in.
What caught Frank off guard was how cold the first room (which looked like cold storage) was. The suits were designed to regulate temperature, as when the Cipher wore those models years ago, they were important in keeping the wearers cool under the blazing desert sun and keeping them warm during the chilly desert nights. But the suit wasn't ready to prepare anybody for this level of cold.
Thankfully, the six trainers had brought a variety, and the pokémon they used outside, they would use again there. They released their monsters, each adapted to deal with cold weather. The Arcanine and Magcargo were both fire types, both warming up the room as well so that the trainers shivered less. The Crabominable would resist the cold and use fighting attacks. The Empoleon was used to cold weather like that in the vault. The Grumpig had Thick Fat to brace against the cold. And a Bisharp had basic type advantage. And if these pokémon fell, their trainers had five more apiece. And the six trainers that Salem chose ranged between the tenth and twelfth tiers. They were some of the best foot soldiers in the Skitrexian branch of the Brotherhood.
"You," Salem said, pointing at Frank. "That Mr. Mime of yours will continue to protect us with barriers."
[Against a Regice?] Isaac asked indignantly, finally having enough of the orders. [You're as crazy as they say they are!]
"Do as you're told or I'll leave you here," Salem ordered sharply, forcing the mime to recoil in his presence. "The rest of you, this fight will not be easy. We don't have enough Unown with us to do considerable damage, so when we get down there, we'll rush it, and when it can no longer defend itself appropriately, I'll use the Masterball. By then, it should be too weak to resist the initial capture. Be warned, though: what we are about to fight is stronger than any pokémon any of you have ever faced. Having an elemental advantage isn't actually going to do much here. Thankfully, I have a secret weapon."
They all nodded, most wondering what this weapon could have been. Salem had chosen to keep it a secret, probably from some of the lower ranking members of the squad.
"The longer we stay, the more fatigued our pokémon will get. Let's hustle."
The group and their pokémon followed Salem, swiftly but carefully, as to not slip on the icy steps that extended from the mysterious arch and away from the clearly manmade cold storage room. With each step, the air grew colder and it felt as if there was a cold wind blowing in their face as they headed down. Was that the Regice's doing as well?
[We're gonna die down here,] Isaac said, bracing himself with a small, personal-sized barrier.
Frank realized it was a very real possibility. Hopefully, Salem did have a plan in place that would save them from becoming popsicles.
At the bottom of the stairs was a sheet of ice that was lit up by a floodlight, but the light could not penetrate the whirlwind of ice that spun in the center of the circular chamber. Even though Frank and the others couldn't see it, they knew the golem was in the center of the swirling ice.
"So, w-w-what now?" one of Salem's underlings asked. The cold man didn't answer. He seemed right at home in the ice chamber, and confidently, he stepped forward, raised his arms, and beckoned to the golem of ice within.
"Regice!" he bellowed, unaffected by the cold. "We have come to claim you! I am your new master and you shall answer to me and me alone! Show yourself in all your glory and prove to us your immortal strength!"
The hell is he doing? Does he really think it will answer to that? This isn't a movie! But to Frank's surprise, the underground ice storm slowly began to subside. Piece by piece, the flying ice bits began to settle, each little chunk falling to the ice below. It took about a minute, but the wind died down and in the center of the grand, ice chamber stood the pokémon they were searching for.
The ice golem was nearly seven feet tall, it's shape strange yet symmetric. It stared at them with it's seven, yellow eyes and it raised one of its arms up and forward as if it was pointing at the group.
"TUUUUUUUUUU!" it blared at them, it's voice sounding synthetic, not too unlike a Porygon's.
"Go!" Salem shouted. All seven of the good trainers' pokémon ran forward, while Isaac stood back and erected a forcefield to protect the humans from the fight and the unbearable cold that radiated from the Regice. Immediately, all seven were blasted back with an explosion of cold air. The Icy Wind even caused Isaac to shake as he continued to reinforce the Light Screen with additional psychic energy.
The Arcanine was first to his feet and he charged in with a Flare Blitz. The fire-type dog crashed into the Regice, and normally, a direct hit from such a powerful fire-type against an ice-type would have been game over. But this was not a normal foe. The Regice braced itself for the hit and pushed back for an instant before clutching the Arcanine by his throat and delivered an icy choke. The Arcanine's color faded as the ice consumed him, but the Regice didn't bother killing him. Instead, it tossed the Arcanine to the side like a ragdoll.
Next, the Bisharp ran in to slash at the monster with its bladed arms while the Grumpig shot psychic blasts at it from a distance. The Regice casually swatted the Bisharp away with its left hand while freezing the Grumpig in place with an Ice Beam from its right. Even the pig's bulky frame couldn't defend it. The Crabominable endured the next Ice Beams and began rapidly punching the Regice with her fists, which were resistant enough to endure the Regice's chilling body. But the onslaught didn't last, as one Hammer Arm later, she was incapacitated.
In the far corner of the hall, the Magcargo had slithered over to the wall and slammed its igneous shell against the ice. A large cluster of rocks from the ceiling above fell atop the Regice, stunning it. The lava slug unleashed a Flamethrower, but just as it hit, the Regice hopped up, slammed down, and started an Avalanche that buried the Magcargo under a pile of ice and rubble, cooling it into a stasis.
Salem's Mimikyu jumped in and unleashed a fury of Shadow Claws on its target. For a pokémon with no resistance or damage advantage against ice-types, it did a pretty good job, but it was sent flying with a low-aimed Ice Punch. And that was when the big guns stepped in.
Enter the Empoleon: the massive, steel penguin was only a few inches shy of the Regice in height, and it was one of the strongest pokémon there. His trainer had all twelve badges and had actually made it past the preliminary pools at that year's Diamond Beach Tournament. The Empoleon was unimpressed with the Regice, as his body was adapted to the coldest weather on earth and his water-steel dual-typing would aid him against the legendary enemy.
The Regice threw an Ice Punch, but the Empoleon swatted the punch away with a Steel Wing. The penguin followed with a dozen more Steel Wings, hitting dead center before letting loose a Hydro Pump. The water froze upon impact, but sent the ice-golem into the wall before following up with an Aqua Jet, unleasing another barrage of Steel Wings. The other elite trainers were cheering at this, thinking that the tides had turned in their favor, but Frank could see that Salem looked on, stern.
"It won't last," their leader predicted.
Just then, the Regice plowed through the ice with a Bulldoze and smacked back into the Empoleon, following with a barrage of quick Ice Punches. The punches did little to the foe, but they slowed the Empoleon down enough for the Regice to charge and release a Zap Cannon at point blank range. That quick turnaround was all it took.
"Damn…" the Empoleon's trainer muttered, calling his pokémon back. "Round two? We have more pokémon to-"
"No, forget it. It's too strong. But my grandfather…" Salem pulled forth a Luxury Ball. "We have a weapon just for this. And she'll be enough." He pointed at the Regice. "You're strong! But not as strong as her!" And he released a new pokémon into the chamber.
The jaws of all the other trainers dropped at what they saw. The light from the ball poured out, revealing a bird who flew in place above their heads. Her body was yellow, with wings stretching out to unimaginable lengths and a long, pointed beak extending from her mouth. The most striking feature was the fire blazing atop the bird's wings, from her backside like tail feathers, and from her head in a blazing plume. And when the bird entered the chamber, any chilliness that was once filled the room melted away.
"That's a Moltres," Frank muttered, dumbfounded. This… how did he not know about this? Hell, how did anybody not know about this? Trainers were required to register their pokémon, so this would have been public knowledge. More importantly, where did the Moltres come from? Ezekiel was known for his Moltres research, but if any nationally registered Moltres disappeared, there would have been some buzz about it. None of it made sense, but here the Moltres was, facing down against the Regice.
"Flamethrower!"
"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" As she shrieked, a stream of flame shot from her mouth. The Regice formed an ice wall to defend against the shot, but the fire shot right through and hit the target. Sliding sideways, the Regice shot an Ice Beam, but the Moltres used Safeguard, the barrier of light protecting it from the icy side effects. When the Regice slid in a quick, wide circle, rocketed from the earth, and threw an Ice Punch. But what had been a powerful attack before might as well have been a slap on the cheek to the legendary bird. Upon impact, she burst into flames, the Heat Wave knocking the Regice back like a crumpled piece of paper. The Heat Wave hit Isaac's force field as well, shattering it. Thankfully, it would not be needed.
The Regice, knowing it was outmatched, began to glow white, raising its arms up.
"It's using Explosion! If it hits, we're all dead! Go all out!" Salem shouted to his grandfather's pokémon.
"Kiiiiiiiiiyaaaah!" The flames that covered the Moltres engulfed her as she flew straight into her foe, the fire engulfing the charging Regice. One might think that the attack would have triggered the Regice's Explosion, but not so. Instead, it seemed to shut the ice-golem down in place as it caught fire.
The ice caught fire. That didn't even make sense to Frank.
The Moltres had burned up most her energy in that attack, but the Regice, still on fire, tried to move away from the group. That was when Salem pulled up the masterball.
"Um… do you even need that?" Frank asked. "I feel like an ultra ball-"
"It will always have the strength to escape. We must act now before it regains its strength and is able to freeze this ball on impact," Salem explained hurriedly as he raised the ball. "It's mine now."
Salem pitched the ball the Regice's way and the light of the masterball engulfed the burned golem, landing on the melted ice below. The ball did wiggle a few times, but it was no use. Once a masterball closed around its foe like that, even the strongest of pokémon couldn't escape. It was just about getting the Regice to that point that they could get the ball close to it in the first place.
"Yes," Salem said, raising his fist to his face as if he was excited, but his voice sounded dull. "Erica, we've captured the target. Are we clear to depart?"
"Affirmative," they all heard on their headsets. "Proceed."
"Roger." Salem recalled the Moltres and quickly went over to claim the Regice. Meanwhile, Frank and the elite squad stood in amazement. The Regice, the Moltres, the capture… it all felt unreal.
"I have so many questions," Frank muttered to himself.
[Let's save that until we get out of here,] Isaac answered him.
"Right." Frank knew Salem wouldn't answer those questions anyway. Besides, he had the drive to worry about. Just get back to the headquarters. The Father will answer your questions there. And the answers he had waiting for him would be well worth the effort.
It was morning and he was back in Ezekiel's office again. The job ended hours ago, but he couldn't sleep, and even though he didn't work weekends, he was in the office, wanting answers. It was just him this time, as Isaac was not nearly as anxious as he was and he was actually able to sleep. Otherwise, the situation was the same. Ezekiel was busy in his office, both TV's tuned to the news, his Slowking was reading in the corner, and his Houndoom resting at his feet. Thankfully, Frank's intrusion wasn't detrimental to the Father. He seemed to be in the office most of the week for one reason or another unless he was traveling. It was as if like Frank, the man never slept.
"You look exhausted," the Father commented, taking a sip of his tea. "But the mission was a success. Look at the news." He pointed to one of the large screens on the wall where SNN was covering the story. In their words, an unauthorized intrusion by a mysterious group had been reported at the Gracen Research Institute, but nothing was reported to be stolen and the attackers could only be identified by their appearance. They mentioned in the report that there was speculation about a Cipher resurgence in Skitrex, but rumors like that had been going around for years by then with no conclusive evidence. Besides, nobody could trace the infiltrators' affiliation back to Ideal Imports or anybody in particular. And because the Institute reported that nothing was taken, the presence of the Regice had not been revealed.
"You did what you needed to do and you did it well," the Father commended, smiling all the while. "Injuries were minimal, you kept my grandson in check, we caught the Regice, and nobody can pin it on us."
"Yeah, you're right," Frank agreed, feeling his anxiety lessen at the sound of praise.
"I knew I could trust you, and there may be more assignments for you in the future. Continue the good work and I guarantee your ascension in our organization."
"Thank you," Frank replied, humbly bowing his head. "But I have a few questions."
"And I have the answers," the older man chuckled. "You helped me, so I will answer any questions you have at this point."
"Okay…" He didn't know where to begin, so he started with the obvious. "You have a Moltres."
"Tsk tsk, not a question," the superior one playfully chided.
"Okay, let me rephrase that: how do you have a Moltres?" Frank knew that the Father had researched Moltres long ago, being the first human to coordinate a breeding between two of these legendary pokémon. But as he knew already, there was no public record of him owning a Moltres. The real question was where it came from. There were no records of Moltres ever living in Skitrex and catching it elsewhere may have been in violation of the International Legendary Pokémon Treaty.
"Ah yes," the Father said as if he didn't understand Frank the first time. "When I bred the Moltres pair many years ago, it was well documented. You can watch the entire documentary where the egg is laid and when the Moltres chick hatched. But you see, we only expected one egg. Reports have always shown a Moltres only laying one egg per breeding. But when the cameras weren't rolling, I found that by the grace of Arceus, the female Moltres had laid a second egg."
"And that wasn't recorded?" Frank asked. He had watched that documentary, and for how thorough it was, he was surprised that nobody had ever found out.
"It was because we had cameras rolling round the clock, even without a crew. I just made sure that the footage was removed."
"Okay, so that's the Moltres you have? Why did you take it?"
"For research, of course!" the Father exclaimed as if the answer would be obvious. "But, I had to do it secretly. That Moltres's egg was laid in Hawaii of the USA, a country that signed the International Legendary Pokémon Treaty, making that Moltres illegal for me to capture or take for unauthorized purposes. I could have tried to justify my position of research in why I wanted the egg, but it would have never gone through. My plan involved removing the chick from the care of its mother, which would have triggered animal activists worldwide, despite the fact that many pokémon are raised by humans from the time that they are born, hatched, or otherwise spawned. It was the context that muddled things up."
"Okay, I get it," Frank agreed, "but what were you trying to accomplish with this research?"
"Records show that there have only been five humans who have ever captured a Moltres," Ezekiel began. "Three of those records are spread out throughout the past millennia, and the documentation on those instances are lacking. It's even called into question whether or not these trainers even caught Moltres to begin with. The most recent two trainers were my colleague, Brandon Galloway, and Master Greevil, former global leader of the Cipher. But Brandon caught his Moltres as an adult. The fact that he was able to train a grown Moltres speaks to his skills as a trainer, but it limits the accessible information. Greevil only had his Moltres for a short time, so little documentation there exists, but…" The Father shook his head, a disgusted look emerging on his face as he scowled and looked downward. "He tainted it by turning it into a shadow pokémon. And it was from my research that he managed to capture that Moltres in the first place. I swear, to this day, I will never forgive myself for how my selfish actions aided the Cipher."
Regaining his composure, Ezekiel continued, although his smile was weaker. "My point is that only Brandon has detailed documentation for training a Moltres, but his work is so brief. I wanted to document the growth of a Moltres as raised by a trainer from egg to adult. This study, Project Torch, has broken new ground in helping us understand these pokémon. I guarantee you, I've treated Lazara with the utmost care. I trained her myself against my own pokémon, and now, she battles against some of my elite in secrecy. I've hired doctors under the table to take care of her and she currently has her own physician who works with her as needed. It's been costly, keeping her a secret, but you've seen how strong and healthy she is."
"So, she's unregistered?" Frank questioned, though that much was obvious. "I don't doubt that you've taken good care of her, but that sounds illegal."
"It's incredibly illegal," Ezekiel confirmed. "All owned pokémon, whether they are kept for battle, as pets, as livestock, whatever, need to have some form of registration, as required by law. And we will be doing the same thing with the Regice in terms of keeping it secret. As for Lazara, I have it in my will that upon my death, my reports and documentation about Project Torch will be released to the public. Also, Lazara will be released into the wild at an appropriate location. She's smart, so I know she can survive on her own. None of the identities of the physicians or trainers she has worked with will be disclosed, so I alone will take responsibility for my actions. It may tarnish my reputation as a trainer, researcher, and philanthropist, but I hope that my reports would benefit the scientific community."
To Frank, all of that sounded amazing and it made him respect the Father even more. However, he couldn't help but feel that his superior had taken on this Moltres as a pet project and not just for selfless research. Perhaps his interests in raising a legendary were selfish, but he wouldn't make that assumption and he certainly wouldn't say it out loud.
"Was there anything else?" Ezekiel asked him.
"Yes, I'm really curious about what you see in Cody Storm," Frank stated. "I mean-"
"You didn't ask a question," the Father pointed out again.
"Okay, then why are you interested in him?" Frank rephrased. "I stopped following the kid's blog, but I know he was getting good. And yeah, he was a little inconvenient for us, but enough to spy on? What do you see in him that makes him worth all these resources? He's just some kid."
"Well," Ezekiel said, "you know that I eventually made contact with him, correct?"
Frank nodded, though he didn't know many details. "And you're spying on him, so I'm assuming he declined?"
"You'd be correct," the Father sighed. "It was probably my fault, sending Casper after him. He's excellent at his job, but he's a poor representation of us. But yes, I would have liked to take Cody on as one of my apprentices, but it's more than just his battling that's interesting to me."
"So, what do you see in him?" Frank asked again.
His boss smiled. "It's not what I see in him, but what Lily sees in him."
"Lilly Chen?" Frank knew she was one of Ezekiel's inner circle disciples and his second in command, but he had never met her. Moreover, he had no idea what the older man meant by that. What she saw in him? "I'm sorry, but I don't follow."
"You know that Lily has some psychic powers, correct?"
"Well, yeah, I knew that." That was common knowledge. Pretty much anybody who followed Lilly's career as a trainer to the slightest degree would have known that.
"Well, it's known that she has a little bit of telekinesis. But she has another power that she's been less public about and that's precognition."
"Okay… But what does that have to do with what I asked?" He was seriously confused now.
"Lily can't control what she sees and when she looks into the future," Ezekiel continued. "She only sees into the future when she sleeps, so she's been very consistent with recording her dreams. Her predictions have been fairly accurate, although the future is not written in stone. But when she joined the Brotherhood, she began to have two types of visions of our future: visions in which we succeed in our goals and visions in which we fail. Of course, I am aware of the possibilities of success and failure, but there was something else that caught my attention: there were two common variations of the success vision and two common variations of the failure vision. In the altered vision of our success, alongside Lily, Paulson, and myself, there was a young man with blonde hair and a Tyranitar by his side. And in the alternate vision of our failure, he's standing above me while I die."
Whoa… This was a lot to take in, but before he could offer a comment, Ezekiel continued.
"For a long time, I asked myself who this man was. Who was this outlier that could be entwined in our healing of this world? I was at my wits' end. I had a few of my analysts crossreference blonde, male trainers who owned members of the Larvitar line, but none of the results matched up with Lily's description. But then I received an update in your report about the boy who interrupted your recruitment mission north of Kindle. You remember, the one where you sent a link to his battle blog? When I watched Cody's battling, I was impressed with his skills for that point in his development, but I noticed three things: he was young, he was blonde, and he had a Larvitar. I sent the link to Lily, and sure enough, she said that he looked just like the man in her visions, only a little bit younger. What do you think that means?"
"So…" Frank was at a loss for words, "it's his destiny to be involved with us or something?"
The Father chuckled. "I don't like the word 'destiny'. I feel that it takes away from our will to accomplish great things because we choose to do so, not because it was written in the stars. And again, these visions are not set in stone. Lily has had nearly a dozen different variations of the dream, but only the four I mentioned were the most common and he wasn't involved in all of them. The way I see it, there's a 25% chance that he helps us, a 25% chance that he dooms us, and a 50% chance he's not involved at all. Hell, it's possible that he's not even the one in the dreams. Maybe he has a doppelganger out there who's also using a Larvitar or something. My point is that this boy, whether he realizes it or not, may be the wildcard in our future. That's why we have an agent traveling with him; to see if he's dangerous or advantageous to us. Right now, all reports show that he distrusts us and wants nothing to do with us." His eyes saddened again as he let out a weary sigh. "That's good news. Maybe a little bit disappointing, as he has so much to offer, but still, good news."
"Still, 25% chance that he dooms us?" Frank quoted Ezekiel's words. "Those odds aren't pretty if they're correct."
"Lily has said the same thing," the older man agreed, his frown deepening. "She says we should kill him and wipe him from the equation. I won't do it, however. So long as he has potential to serve us in creating a better world, I will not destroy that potential, as there's also a chance that doing so may make our chances worse in our attempt to control the future. And I refuse to carry the blood of a child on my hands before the day of judgment."
Day of judgement? What? Before Frank could ask, the Father continued.
"If he does significantly interfere with our plans, I will have him eliminated. I just hope that this trend of him keeping to himself continues. Not like he can do much anyway at this point. He has five badges, but he's hardly a threat to us as a whole."
"You're right. I assume I'm not to say a word of any of this?" Frank asked.
"I don't need to demand promises from you about that. I know that you are loyal," Ezekiel answered. "Just remember that those secrets are very powerful and that if others were to know them, there would be grave consequences. But you already knew that."
"Yes, thank you," Frank replied with a nod.
"Very well. You are dismissed," the Father answered, nodding back.
Frank stood up and was ready to leave, but before he reached the door, he turned around. "Father Ezekiel?"
"Yes?" The older man had not returned to his work quite yet. It was as if he was expecting Frank to have one more question.
"With all due respect, do you think it's wise for your grandson to have the Regice? Even you have admitted that he's unhinged."
"Call it a compromise," the older man said, sighing when admitting this. "I've talked with Brandon Galloway about this before: training a Regice, Regirock, or Registeel is one of the hardest tasks imaginable. They're very robotic in nature and he's compared it to trying to make a computer behave in a different manner when you have no access to modifying its code. I would have asked Brandon to do it, but I know he would not join our cause. Salem volunteered in exchange for the Regice specifically. I agreed."
"Okay, but-"
"But you are right," the Father interrupted. "Giving Salem access to this power is dangerous. I was worried about lending him my Moltres, but she's a smart bird. She would not follow him, should his intentions prove ill. But he will be kept in check, as he has a brilliant mind that will be of use to us. And like all the others, if his heart is not with us on the day of judgment, he will face the consequences. It is my hope that he rises to our standards, but until then, everything is under control. In fact… it's now under your control."
"My control?" Frank had almost forgotten of that "day of judgment" mention again when he heard that.
"From now on, you will attend any field mission that Salem leads or attends. You will serve as my conscious and what the Brotherhood of Life stands for. If he is to behave in a way that goes against our beliefs or our goals, you will be the one to reel him in and report him to me. Do you accept this new position?"
"Of course!" Frank blurted out. Even with the threats that Salem had made to him, the thought of rising out of the boring office job excited him. Helping the Brotherhood reach their goals excited him. The knowledge and the deep, dark, secrets that he was learning excited him. "Does that mean I can get out of the cubicle work?"
"Not yet," the Father answered, laughing at his disciple's eagerness. "Give it time. I will still need you to work that job, but if there are any weekday assignments, you'll be off the hook for that day. But eventually, I might give you a promotion. I would still like you to be involved in recruitment, but one day at a time. Fair?"
"Fair," Frank agreed. He really wanted out of that office, but he'd take what he could get. He was feeling wonderful about the whole thing, now that some light was shed upon the darkness that surrounded the Brotherhood's biggest secrets.
"And one more thing," the Father requested before Frank could try to leave the room again. "I would like you to provide orientation for one of our new trainers when he arrives here in a few days. He's a new recruit, but his abilities as a trainer surpass the majority of the Brotherhood. Quite frankly, I'm surprised we were able to convince him, but I have a feeling that he'll be useful in our endeavors. "
Frank had given plenty of orientation tours around HQ, so he didn't mind giving one more. That being said, Ezekiel had never asked him personally to escort anybody. Whoever it was must have been important.
"I can do that," he agreed, nodding.
"Thank you," The Father replied, nodding in return. "You've been an invaluable follower, Frank. You will always have a place among my disciples."
When Frank left the room, the feeling of elation was growing, almost as if the farther he took those secrets from the office, the more spectacular they became. However, he was already kicking himself for not asking more about the recruit. It was one of the few answers he hadn't been given. But honestly, he never felt more invested in the organization than he did in that moment. That feeling of pride… he promised himself that he would never let that feeling slip away.
If you notice any significant grammatical or continuity errors in this chapter or any of the others, please notify me. I really need to clean a lot of this story up at some point.
