Like the two sides of a coin, there are good news and bad news. Good news: Cynthia was back. Bad news: Flint was still being a brat, Aaron was still indecisive, and Bertha had exhausted her throat from yelling.

Even Looker was standing in the corner, silent and watchful throughout the meetings. Lucian would occasionally turn his head, catching that wide-eyed stare before the detective dropped his attention back to an empty notebook.

What the hell happened?

The group dispatches after the meeting. Bertha leaves to get something for her throat, Aaron by her side. The hot-headed idiot probably stormed off somewhere, and that's fine with Lucian. Things will finally get done without unneeded conflict.

And it's all that criminal's fault! The Sinnoh League was supposed to be a cohesion of Trainers, banded together to preserve the dignity of Pokemon battles. Not to argue over ethics, over every little thing that emotion exacerbates.

Now where's Cynthia? She missed out on a lot. Lucian had done his research—why, he feels as if he's the only one actively pursuing this investigation—and had come up with a promising lead. Not only to this time conundrum, but to finally apprehend the Villain of Sinnoh once and for all.

She's not in the building. Maybe outside? As Lucian descends the stairs, he hears voices. Hushed whispers. Peeking around a marble column reveals a curtain of dull gold.

"…nothing amiss." The detective is also there too, sucking his triangular juice pouches dry. His eyes constantly dart around, as if…

"Did you find any new leads, Looker?"

"Not yet. Did you?"

"No."

A silence. Looker drags a hand through his scalp. "Well. I have to go, Cynthia. Um… thanks for coming back."

"Of course. That's what the Champion of Sinnoh should've done a long time ago. No more running away."

Running away?

A few more exchanges, and Looker leaves. Cynthia stares after his retreating back. Then she sighs. She turns around—and almost collides into Lucian's chest.

"ACK!" It's almost a scream, one that uproots his heart from the mess of veins.

"C-Calm down, Cynthia. It's me, Lucian."

"O-Of course I remember!" She turns away before he can get a second look at her face. "I remember everything now!"

Lucian frowns. "All right…" He grabs her arm before she can slip away again. It's like telling a child not to wander far away from home. "Cynthia, I need to talk to you. Right now."

Cynthia whips around. Lucian lowers himself so their gazes can connect. He waits for a good five minutes.

"Cynthia. Did I do something wrong?"

She hesitates. Oh I definitely did. "No… no, it's not you, Lucian. It's just…"

"Just what, Cynthia?'

Cynthia gently pushes him back. His mouth goes dry. "Lucian," she says flatly. "Mind your business." His eyes widen, and in that moment of hesitation, Cynthia breaks from his grasp. By the time that he recovered from that cold sting, she's already out the room.

Lucian lunges for her sleeve, much to her exasperation. "Cynthia, something's troubling you, isn't there? Tell me! That's what a team is for, yet you're treating us as if—"

Her eyes are flashing like knives. Lucian's heart climbs to his tongue. "Nothing's wrong, Lucian." Once again, she brushes aside his grip. Like it's nothing. "Why don't you go patch up with Flint?"

Oh. Oh, is this what it is? "Cynthia…" It's all he can do to keep his voice under control. "Look, that idiot started it. If he wants to work together again, then he has to take initiative!'

Cynthia clicks her teeth. "Don't get me started on the way you've been acting as of late, Lucian!'

"M-Me? What did I—Oh… is this about Mesprit? Well, I assure you that anyone would've done the same to protect a friend!"

Lucian stops to catch his breath. Cynthia is staring at him.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, a hand on his chest. "I just feel like… It's frustrating, seeing how I'm the only one doing anything productive… Everyone's off in their own direction, and the cohesion that we once shared… well…"

I don't know if I can fix it.

"Lucian." Cynthia's tone is softer now. She's looking at him in the eyes. "Don't beat yourself up too much." A hand taps his nose. "This whole paralysis thing messed up a lot of heads, I know. You're just stressed."

Is it now? Lucian rubs his temples. It certainly feels as if something heavy and foreboding is pressing against his consciousness, yet attempts to pinpoint the problem yields no results.

"I think you just need some time to think, Lucian." A breeze runs its fingers through golden silk. She casts a glance at the skies, so blue and bright. "I think we all need some time for ourselves."

Lucian frowns. Cynthia smiles, and his doubt quavers. "I need to do a little rain check, Lucian. I'll be back for dinner."

When Cynthia summons Togekiss, Lucian pulls out a Poke ball of his own.

I'll tell him eventually. Xatu appears in a flash of light. They don't have Poffins over there. He'll probably like the sweet ones, based on his personality… and he's not the type to hold a grudge. I hope.

"All right, Xatu. Follow—"

"WAIT!"

Xatu cringes under the sudden weight. Lucian whirls back, and to his disbelief, Flint's fingernails are digging into the bird's feathers.

"What are you doing?" Lucian hisses. "You're hurting her!"

Flint's legs are dangling in the open air. "Oh, well, excuse me! Don't mind me, I'm just falling to my death!"

Cynthia's fading into the distance. Lucian grits his teeth. Damn! He reluctantly reaches over to help the stupid fool.

"Whew! Man, that would've not been fun at all."

Lucian crosses his arms. Fling slowly, painfully turns his head back to the scowling man.

"Lucian."

"Flint."

Silence. Xatu's eyes dart up to its passengers. Wind streams past the majestic wings.

Flint scratches his afro. "Listen, man… Um… S-So. Volkner and I had a talk, and… um…"

Lucian feels like his wisdom teeth are pushing out. It's that unpleasant. "C-Cynthia and I also had a talk." Flint drops his gaze. "She said… er… s-she said…"

More silence. Xatu sighs.

"Look," says Flint. "This recent time-going-out-of-whack-thing is stressing everyone out, including the Pokemon. We get a little hot under the collar… b-but it shouldn't… burn us out…"

"Hmm. Well. I suppose that I was a tad too harsh on you…" But I'm right about Volkner, that lazy… "And… nothing gets done if there's no cooperation…"

Flint reluctantly raises a fist. Lucian stares at it… then he gingerly bumps knuckles. The tension dispels like a breath of fresh, sweet air. Lucian briefly debates on turning away and ignoring Flint for the rest of the ride.

After the most awkward apology in the world is made and accepted, Flint snaps back to focus mode. "So. Where are we going again?"

How in the world did you make that stupid leap? "Because." Lucian keeps his tinted gaze to the horizon.

"Because…?"

Lucian scowls. "Because I feel—no. I know that she's hiding something. Always running off without telling us, her team? Something… someone might be hurting her, and we're left in the dark!" Lucian slams his fists on his laps. "Damn me if that criminal got his paws on her…"

Flint looks visibly uncomfortable. "Um… Lucian?"

"What? Speak a little louder, we're quite high up."

"Do you…" He drops his voice. "Do you really think that Cyrus is alive?"

That name sends cinders up his neck. Lucian yanks off his glasses, relieving pressure off the pulsating veins under his eyes. "Oh, that freak is alive, I assure you. The region is still in chaos. And besides, that pathetic display at the prison was just to divert our attention so he can proceed with his world domination!"

Flint scoots back. He's not saying anything, which strikes Lucian as strange. Usually that hothead has a lot to say…

Lucian shakes his head, turning back to the expansive blue skies. "Okay, Cynthia… Now, where are you going?"

"Cyrus—zzt! Hey, hey! Look what I can do—zzt! Backflip! Wooooaaahh—bzzt!"

"No, Cyrus, watch me dance!"

"Nah—zzt. You'll never—zzt—get better—bzzt."

"Boss?"

"That is no way to speak to a lady!"

"You got two—bzzt—left feet!"

"Master Cyrus?"

"You brute! Tasteless Pokemon! Someone should ground you!"

"Nah, sister—zzt. Me and the boy—zzt—are tighter than oil in motor—zzt."

"Cyrus!"

A solid hand clamps on his shoulder. Cyrus gasps. In front of him are…"Oh. I apologize." He rubs his eyes. Focus, focus. "Where are we?"

Saturn puts down the Old Notebook. "Um… we finished the tour a while ago, Boss. Then you just kind of… spaced out."

"See, Elise—bzzt? You made him space out!"

"Me? You're the one pulling on his hair!"

"Cyrus!" The gardener runs into the room for the fourth time today. "Cyrus, I have arrived with a new proclamation! Please present this to the beloved Jane!"

Rotom smirks at the envelope. "You got no chance, dude. She won't be—zzt—moving on anytime soon—bzzt!"

"Rotom!"

The Pokemon, Elise, and the gardener all freeze at that tone. Mars edges closer to her Commanders and whisper, "Is Boss still hearing things?"

"I… think he understands the Ghosts, but Rotom too?" Saturn watches as that lighting rod begins to weep, much to Cyrus's disbelief. "Well… he did have a bad fall…"

Jupiter clears her throat. "Um… Cyrus? Why are you yelling at Rotom?"

"It spoke out of turn."

"What?"

"Rotom said…" Cyrus slumps back to the chair, a hand pressed against his temples. "Never mind." Who am I, to bring up old wounds?

Mister Mori arrives with a tray of tea. He offers the Commanders, who simply stare blankly. "Please forgive the gardener, Miss Jupiter. He misses his beloved very dearly."

"Well, pity him." Elise leans closer to the wheelchair. "You cannot begin to fathom my delight, now that you've returned, Cyrus."

"Bzzt—nah, sis! I'm 110% more delighted—zzt!"

Elise scowls. "You had your change to see him! Flying out during the storm like that!"

Speaking of which… Cyrus rubs the trench between his ribs. There's still the metallic taste in the back of his throat. "Rotom?" The Pokemon jolts. "Rotom, that was you, wasn't it? Back at the prison…"

A small smile forms on its face. "How?" Cyrus whispers. Mars begins to open her mouth, but Saturn nudges her.

Rotom raises a pulsating axis to Cyrus's cheek. His skin tingles, but the shock never came. "You and I—zzt—are bonded on a much deeper, incorporeal level—zzt. I waited—zzt—for you to come back, you see—zzt—after they threw me away." Then it frowns. "Honestly, I never thought—zzt—you'd turn yourself into a—zzt bzzt—lightning rod, kid. But the lightning connected you to me—zzt. I heard your thoughts for the first time…"

Rotom gently smacks his chin with a dead battery that it picked up from the floor. "Your head is so—bzzt—depressing—zzt—you know? Maybe I should've shocked you harder—bzzt."

The Pokemon rolls its eyes. Cyrus's expression softens, and he coughs into his sleeve. Jupiter's face breaks into alarm, but he holds up a hand. "Worry not, Jupiter. I don't taste the blood." She frowns, and he turns back to Rotom. "Thank you. For… for saving us."

"Hehehe—zzt. What are friends for, Cyrus—zzt?" Friends…? So back then, what you were saying was… it wasn't a lie…?

Elise looks back and forth between the two. "I helped too," she huffs.

"You most certainly did, young mistress." She beams. "You opened the gates of the Old Chateau to welcome Cyrus and his team."

Cyrus nods. "Yes, and you opened your home to all of us." He glances to his Commanders. "We simply cannot thank you enough."

Rotom sees the look on his face and giggles. "Hehe—zzt. Bzzt. That boy, Cyrus. He reminds me of you." That warrants a small frown, to which Rotom shrugs. "I say it as I see it, brother—bzzt."

Elise compares the two faces. "You even gave him your notebook." Saturn blinks, and Cyrus looks away, muttering a sort of half-hearted excuse. "Oh, he certainly did become a fine young man."

Cyrus's lips ache from frowning. "Jupiter, I wish to go outside."

"Huh?" He continues to stare at her until her scowl cracks, and she sniffs. "W-Well. I don't see why not… A little fresh air might be good for you."

"Thank you, Jupiter."

"Arceus, Cyrus. Don't go all Pachirisu-eyes on me…" Go what?

"It's my turn to push the chair!" Mars says.

"Nah, it's my turn!" Saturn snaps. "You got to push him around yesterday, and you almost made him fall down the stairs!"

"Well, the boss gave me permission to ride it around like a shopping cart!"

"Damn it, Mars, do you want him to get another concussion?"

Jupiter gives an uneasy smirk. "Saturn, he's all yours."

"Hey!"

"Haha, suck it, Mars!" Saturn slams his palms on the handle, sending a small earthquake to Cyrus's core. The latter has to remind himself to breathe. "Let's go, Boss! To the forest!"

Elise and Mister Mori make way for the colorful trio. The girl skids to a halt before the doorway.

"I want to play with Cyrus!" She stomps her shaky legs to the groaning floorboards. "I want to go outside! It's not fair!"

Elise calms down at the butler's gentle grasp. "We've served our purpose, young mistress." She blinks. The old man chuckles. "The boy finally found his family. He deserves every minute with them… There's no room for us to interfere anymore."

A pleasant breeze kisses his cheekbones. Sweet, aromatic arms sweep foliage aside for the wheelchair to glide down the pebble-laden path.

"Boss?"

"Shh."

"I'm awake." Cyrus rubs his eyes. Still no good. Perhaps… He squints until he feels his eyeballs vibrating. No… still broken…

"It's so green," Jupiter hums, her voice carrying down the breathing forest. "Oh, look at the flowers. I've never seen such a crimson hue."

"Hey—zzt!" Saturn yelps when that lighting rod whizzes past. "Hey hey hey—zzt! The main guest—zzt—has arrived to the party! Cyrus—zzt! I'm right here! CYRUS! CYRUS!"

"Rotom, you are giving me a headache." The Pokemon deflates. Cyrus purses his lips. "No, I didn't mean… No, don't cry. Just… keep your voice down."

"You're the only one who can hear me, Cyrus—zzt."

Saturn speaks up. "Um. Boss. We can go back—"

"I am fine." There's a ringing in his ears. Rotom is discharging ample electricity. But he can't keep up his mask around its company.

"Hey, Doc!"

Cyrus perks up. "Ah. B-2. R-8." Rotom opens its mouth, but he silences the Pokemon before whatever crude thing can flow from that motor mouth.

R-8 grins. "Wow, you're finally outside, Cyrus. Welcome back to the world of the living."

"It has indeed been a while," Cyrus mutters. "Ah, B-2? I have a question."

"Oh sure, shoot it, Cyrus. There's no such thing as a dumb question."

Cyrus nods. "This. Was this a novel discovery in science? This Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon?"

B-2 chokes on dry air. Cyrus leans forward, eagerly gesturing to his cast. "Champion Cynthia was considerate enough to lend me the newest edition of the Sinnoh Encyclopedia. However, there were no entries on such a cannon."

Rotom squints at the cast. "Cyrus—zzt. That's a pe—"

"What is the relative size of such a cannon, B-2?" Said Grunt is blinking like a dumbstruck Chatot while the younger Commanders struggle to contain their breathing. Jupiter simply rolls her eyes.

"Um… it depends?" B-2 grunts.

"I see. Is the name connected with the first astronaut to ever walk on the mo—Excuse me, R-8. Why are you hitting the ground?"

"I CAN'T-!" she wheezes. "YOU-! HOLY ARCEUS-!" Then she's slapping the pebbles as if she's hitting slots at the old Veilstone Game Corner.

A hand falls on his head. Jupiter ignores his staring and continues to pat that fluffy nest.

Then the ground begins to tremble. Cyrus clenches the armrest until his knuckles turn white. BOOM! Lightning flashes before his eyes. Rain. Fire. But when the world returns to light, there's just a Budew in his arms.

In fact, there's a crowd of forest Pokemon around him. Budew is yipping. The Cascoon fidget, the Starly flapping their wings in nonverbal warning.

"What's happening?" Mars murmurs when a Drifloon tugs her hand.

Rotom hovers closer to the bud. "Hmm? Bzzt… Budew says… there's someone—zzt—in the forest."

That implication churns his stomach to tatters. "Is… Is Champion Cynthia?" he whispers.

Budew shakes its head. As Rotom translates, the vicegrip around his lungs squeeze tighter and tighter until he sees nothing.

BAM! BAM! A glistening needle dipping into his skin, pressing deeper and deeper through layers of fat, destroying flesh—

"BOSS!"

Cyrus yanks his head back. "Mars. Saturn. B-2, R-8. Gather everyone and tell them to come back now!"

Said people instantly scamper away. A scathing wind slices through the silent air, scattering leaves about the ambiguous skies.

How much time do I have? "Jupiter, we need to go back now!"

"W-What?"

"Cyrus-zzt… what happened? Cyrus?"

Of course, of course… There's a hollowness in his chest. A coldness spreading to his fingertips, his toes. I lowered my guard. Careless! How stupid can you be? Of course you can't run away!

In the end of the story, good always triumphs over evil!

The Grunts are silent as their boss paces around in that wheelchair, surrounded by a grim-faced Gengar and a mass of Ghosts.

"How much can the basement hold?" Cyrus counts heads. "No, there's too much… I see what you're suggesting, Mister Mori, but that'll just draw in more suspicion."

Rotom is buzzing around his head. "I'm sorry?" His brow furrows. "No, the attic will be one of the first places he'll look, Rotom. From the outside, there are three stories. It's natural human instinct to follow up on a hunch…"

Gengar gestures to the air. Cyrus frowns. "No, we have a contract. We agreed on the terms. Champion Cynthia wouldn't…" Then he blanches. "No… But we… No, she promised…"

Jupiter's hand comes as a flick to his neck. "Cyrus." She wheels him back to the audience. "We're here too, remember? See? At least I can touch you."

Cyrus gasps. "Yes, of course! You can take the Drifloon! But then you'll have to split into groups…"

"Boss," Saturn mumbles. "What the hell is going on?"

"N-No. I have an idea." Cyrus fumbles for his Poke balls. "Five minutes… Two? No, we don't have time for—"

"Boss!" Saturn snaps. "Boss, we're your team too! You have to let us know what's going on!"

"He found me." There's nothing in that voice. "He's coming to arrest me as we speak."

Dead silence follows that statement. "Based on what Rotom told me, he came alone." That monotone is back. Much chillier than Saturn remembers. "The convoy must be camped around the forest then." He's glancing out the windows, a hand shielding his neck.

"Cyrus!" Jupiter hisses. "Who's coming? What are you talking about?"

And when Cyrus reveals the answer, the life leeches from everyone's eyes.

"So what's the plan?" B-2 wheezes.

"The plan is to run, B-2." Cyrus coughs into his sleeve. "Even if we do outnumber him, reinforcements will surely come. And if two sides do interact, he'll only have proof to confirm his theory. Nowhere will be safe anymore…"

"But I don't want to leave!" Mars huffs. "And this place has meaning to you, Boss! You can't just throw it all away again—"

"Mars, how many times will you allow your ugly sentiment to blind you from the truth?" Cyrus slams a palm against the frame. Gengar frowns. "You and Saturn take half of the Grunts to the garden path around the back. Jupiter, take the other half by sea. Use Gyarados to—"

Saturn smacks the Poke ball out of his boss's hand. THUMP! The capsule rolls on the floor, stopping by Cyrus's feet.

For a long, tense second, no one moves. Frost is spilling from Cyrus's eyes. A blizzard is flickering back to existence. "You would dare—"

"Enough of your nonsense, Boss!" Saturn hisses. "They were right! Something is definitely wrong with you head!"

"Watch your tongue, Saturn."

"N-No. NO! Master Cyrus, you listen to me! We're a team, and we'll get through this together! I'm not leaving anyone behind! I'm not losing anyone! I won't let that ever happen again!"

Saturn had shoved his face well into Cyrus's personal bubble. The older man is pressed tightly against the back of the chair, his shoulders stiff, his lips slightly parted in a frozen gasp. Saturn forces himself to ignore the trembling by directing his gaze to the side, where Rotom is gaping at the scene with open jaw.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"Do you realize what you're implying, Saturn?" That voice starts out as a whimper. The man drops his gaze, jerking his head to the side and snatching Saturn's heart along with it. "If you take everyone and run right now, there's still a chance that you'll escape. Improbable, but not impossible.

"But me? I'll just slow you down." Cyrus glares past the blanket. "What can I do? Fall over? The authorities are looking for me specifically. Not… you. Not Mars, nor Jupiter… I can buy you time. Be realistic, Saturn… not everyone is worth waiting for."

Those eyes speak a different story. "Don't you get it? That's all I'm good for. You're staking your own future to protect the likes of me. What don't you understand? Leave! Stop arguing and leave, Saturn! Please, just leave!"

"But what good is a future without you?" Saturn murmurs. Those dreams from once upon a time still lingers in his mind. That rainy day. That bleak skies lit aglow by the brilliant sun…. The moment when "home" encompassed more than a roof over his head.

"I have a plan, Master Cyrus."

A spark of light slips into those vacant eyes. Cyrus's brows are furrowed, but he's not frowning. He's waiting, like everyone else.

"That's a great idea!" Mars whispers once Saturn finishes explaining. "That way, we won't be running away!"

"If it works." Jupiter clicks her tongue. "But time is not on our side. Do you still think we can pull it off?"

"Improvisation is a specialty of a Galactic Grunt!" B-2 huffs, smacking his hips. "We're a team, after all!"

"Not just any team," his colleague adds with a small smile in one direction. "We're employed by the best, after all."

Saturn returns his attention to his boss, the former's hands clasped behind his back as if awaiting further orders. Gengar's grin is wide, but not at all malevolent. It nudges the man, whispering something in his ear.

"But… What will I do?" Cyrus croaks.

"You just stay out of sight, Boss. We'll take care of everything." The gears are cranking loudly in that complicated brain of his. "We'll be careful," Saturn says, and Cyrus closes his mouth. "Trust us, Boss."

It takes a while, but those lips finally unlatch. "All right." Cyrus is nodding intently. He straightens. "All right, Saturn… I'll entrust this operation to you. Just… just be careful."

Despite everything that has happened as of late, Saturn finds himself grinning. And suddenly very, very warm. "T-Thanks, Master Cyrus. I won't disappoint you."

Grunts are whispering excitedly in the background. Mars is giggling into her hands, and Jupiter has her arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on her lips. Cyrus finally snaps out of his stunned stupor to turn to the Ghosts.

"Your full cooperation is much appreciated, "he tells them. "I wish to borrow your wardrobes. Yes, ma'am, please bring your cosmetics if you can. Mister Mori, please see it that assistance is offered if needed. Elise… Mars?"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

The man presses a sleeve to his mouth. "Elise wishes to do your hair."

Mars blinks. "Um. Sure…" The Ghost waltzes over, examining the Commander from all angles before it sifts its ghostly paws through threads of fire. "Oh… Well. This is a first," Mars's voice is faint.

As Jupiter is being led down by a pair of chittering Haunter, Cyrus rolls up to Saturn. The man has a piece of blue fabric in his hand, presumably given to him by one of the Ghosts.

There's a particular expression on his boss's face. That very rare, very subtle gesture that renders all money, all material gifts in this world insignificant. That one emotion often overlooked in the man's impassive mask, but right now it's there, shining in all its radiant glory.

"Do you still need help with tying a necktie?" Cyrus mutters. "Erm. No, of course you don't. You're not a child anymore. My apologies."

"I don't mind," Saturn wheezes. Cyrus tilts his head… but he nods and proceeds to spin magic upon Saturn's outfit. The young man is breathing through his mouth now, and he's vaguely aware of the low kettle noise hissing through his teeth.

"I-I'll make you p-proud, B-Boss…"

And the boss makes a faint sound in his throat. "I know, Saturn."

Eterna Forest. So fittingly known as "The Place Where Time Stands Still."

He can't see the skies, save for the slivers of grey sunlight peeking through the leaves. The difference between this and city air is made so shockingly apparent.

"Now, let's see…" His voice reverberates through the lush greenery. Crunch, crunch, goes the crunching foliage. The Pokemon peek out, scampering away as suddenly as they came.

Looker whirls around. Of course, there's no one. Just a Gastly, who giggles and dematerializes into the breeze. Wait. Where's my gun—Oh. No, that would defeat the whole purpose of this secret mission. Looker takes a deep, pollen-scented breath, but still his heart refuses to calm down.

It feels like he had committed a grave crime, going against protocol like this. But he has a good feeling about this hunch.

He slips his hand into his pocket, gripping the icy handcuffs. No, no, act now, think later! It's too late to turn back…

Oh, there's quite a lot of Ghost Pokemon in the forest. Looker spots a flock of drifting Drifloon. Murkrow staring down at him. There's the deeply disturbing sense that he's being watched, but it's just the Pokemon… It's just the Pokemon, he tells himself over and over.

"Be careful."

Looker almost chokes on his heart. He stumbles backwards, narrowly avoiding a tree to the forehead. Tmp. Tmp. A figure enters from the shadows. A smile upon blood-red lips. Ringlets steeped in inky midnight, shifting like a ripple in the night sky.

It's as if she was a character straight out of those archival files.

Looker quickly reaches for his hat—only to realize that he's not wearing anything—and settles for a nod instead. "H-Hello." He has to tilt his chin just to reach her gaze. "I… Hello."

The woman chuckles—a deep, soft sound that flutters through the silent air. She sweeps the veil of her pillbox hat aside, capturing his essence within her starry night skies. "A lost traveler? A Trainer? Who do I have the pleasure to meet?"

By that accent, I'd say… Kalosian? "Looker." He thrusts out a hand. Her grip is strong. And under that glove, he can feel the bones, the cartilage… "I'm… I'm just looking around. And you are?"

"Janice." The second syllable comes after. She smiles again, evaporating his doubts. "I can show you the way out if you wish, Looker."

"Sure—" Looker clears his throat. "Actually, I'm quite exhausted by my travels. Would you mind if I stopped by to rest my feet?"

"Of course not," she says pleasantly. "Please, my chateau is just across the pond."

THE OLD CHATEAU! Looker smooths his hair in anticipation. "You… you live around here, Janice?"

"Yes. We've been here since the conscription."

Huh? But the last draft was…

The walk across the overgrown path is passed in silence. Janice is humming some kind of ballad. Her evening gown exposes a good portion of that strong, lithe back, framed with violet curls.

Then they're here. A man in a traditional butler's uniform opens the rusted gates. Looker keeps his gaze on those humps for a second too long before he quietly chastises himself and looks away. A maid ushers the two people to the porch.

BOOOM! Darkness fills the skies. Plip. Plip. Eventually turning into a downpour. The ground is flooded within a matter of seconds. Looker extends his hand, and sure enough, that's actually rain on his skin.

Weather reports promised sunny skies all week…

"Oh my." Janice taps a finger against glistening lips. "Another storm… Ah, it seems like you'll be here for much longer than anticipated, Looker. I don't foresee the sun any time soon." There's something about her words that makes him uneasy, but as to why, reason escapes him. "You two. Prepare a guestroom."

The butler and maid bow. Looker follows Janice through the double doors. At first, it's dark. As if he had blindly walked into the belly of the beast.

"I apologize for that," says the butler's voice. Then a violet spark, a flame, and the hallway bursts into light.

What the… The inside looks nothing like the outside. Nothing like what the archives depicted. In fact, it's very well-lived in, right down to the spotless nooks and crannies of the satin carpets. The decorated walls, the glowing chandeliers, the faint aroma of musty roses in the air…

Janice is a form that's a sight to be reckoned with, the light catching like fire in her hair. "As you can see, my chateau." She gestures to the glass windows and the storm that lies beyond. "Now, come with me. You must be starved."

The dining hall is the biggest room Looker had ever seen. She mentions for him to sit, which he does in a dumbstruck trance. He feels the fork in his hand. The woman is staring at him as if he was the most amusing thing ever.

"Everyone will be arriving shortly." So there's more? "You can eat first if you're hungry." She claps her hands, and a chef rushes forward with a bottle of sparkling water. Looker, being the tenacious detective that he is, sniffs it first before proceeding to touch his poke the crystalline surface with his tongue.

"Hm. I assure you that poisoning you is the last thing on my mind, Looker."

Looker almost chokes on his drink. "N-No. I-I just…"

"Hoho. Oh, that's fine. Everyone has their preferences, and those most cautious are the ones who survive."

Looker blinks. Janice tilts her head. "Ah. There they are. Come down and meet Monsieur Looker."

Footsteps thump on the carpet, drawing Looker's gaze to the draped balcony. Two pairs of eyes bear down, a golden sun among electric-blue skies.

"Mother."

"A visitor?"

Janice flashes a curt smile to the stunned detective. "My children," she says. "Elise. Toyotaro. Aren't they simply wonderful?"

"Flint, be quiet."

"Ugh… ooof, I… urp!"

Lucian blanches at that dry heave. "Nononono. This isn't my Xatu!" He scrambles for his precious monogrammed handkerchief. "Just… breathe into it. I don't need it back."

Xatu cringes. Lucian pats the bird's head. Flint draws himself into a ball, his eyes blank and dim.

"Eterna City?" Flint mutters after a minute. Lucian frowns. What the hell is Cynthia doing in Eterna City? We've already combed the area…

"There's Eterna Forest," Lucian mumbles. "Could it be… she's been running off to this forest…? What could be so…" Oh. Adrenaline spikes up his spine. "Hurry, Xatu. Don't lose sight."

The trees are dense enough to block the ground, but Cynthia seems to know exactly where she's going. She knows where to turn, where to dip into an opening—

"YYYYEEEEEPP!"

Togekiss shrieks when a beam of darkness blasts from the canopy. Its Trainer fumbles for control. "What are you doing?" Cynthia gasps. "Why are you—"

A blue fireball whizzes past her cheek, missing her eye by a hair. The Gastly swarm together into a squirming blob, blood-curling screeches ripping from their dripping mouths.

"We have to help Cynthia!"

Lucian holds Flint back. "We'll be seen, idiot! And besides, she can take care of a few Gastly!"

"That's not what I'm seeing, four-eyes!"

And horrifyingly enough, Flint is right. As Lucian observes the battle, it seems like Cynthia is leaning towards the defensive.

"Togekiss, Air Slash!"

The Gastly retaliate with Payback. Flint shoots to his feet, and Lucian pulls him back.

"Togekiss, Ancient Power, now!" Quivering boulders knock aside a handful of Gastly. Cynthia whips her head around, and Xatu immediately hides behind a passing cloud.

"Flint, stop breathing down my neck!"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Lucian stiffens. An unearthly sound grates into his ears, icy needles scraping down the walls of his heart, peeling back veins. A Misdreavus's eyes are gleaming a dangerous red.

Then a torrent of fire slams into the Ghost before it can utter that Perish Song. "Score!" Flint pumps his fists into the air. "Infernape, Fire Blast again!"

WOOOOSSH! Clouds are thinning due to the intense heat. Lucian feels his hair. "Flint, you idiot!" he snaps.

"Well, this idiot just saved you from eternal damnation! And besides, afros are always in season—"

"Who's there?" Cynthia barks, and the two men freeze in their tracks.

"Oh fuck!" Flint hisses.

"It's all your damn fault!" Lucian racks his brain for a backup plan, but the adrenaline had compromised his ability to think rationally. Another arc of wind slices the cloud next to them. Xatu is murmuring to what sounds like a Future Sight attack.

Flint's eyeballs are bulging out of his head. "Damn it, Lucian! What now?!"

The young man named Toyotaro gives Looker a curt nod. Those eyes are the brightest blue, a stark contrast compared to…

"It's been so long since we've received a guest." The young woman named Elise offers a curtsy. Looker, not knowing what else to do, curtsies back, earning a dainty little laugh. Those golden eyes crinkle like blossoming dandelions. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Um… Looks like it." These two look nothing alike. Nothing like their mother either.

The food arrives. "Wow." Looker whistles. "Now that's a feast."

Janice laughs. "Everyone's here now. Please, Looker, enjoy yourself."

"Don't mind if I do."

And as the clock strikes midnight, dinner just… magically happens. Residents of the household join in with hefty amounts of savory foods and liquor.

"Well… just a bit." Looker accepts the smiling maid's offer. The liquid doesn't come when he tips the glass, but when he reflects on that, the sweet taste of aged wine fills his throat. As he cuts into his fatty lobster, he hears the distinctive crink of metal cutting into metal. As if… No, that's ridiculous. The food is right here! And damn, does it taste fine!

Looker belches into his fist. It's so warm. A comfortable warmth, as if someone had draped a blanket over his chest and tucked him in. Add in the rain, and it's perfect bed weather.

"I can escort Mister Looker to his room, Mother."

"Oh, thank you Toyotaro. Take Elise with you."

Then Looker's following the young adults down a brightly-lit hallway of paintings and doors. A turn here… A corner here… Round and round and round!

"I'd expect you to have a higher tolerance," Toyotaro muses. The young man runs a firm hand over the man's pocket to righten the latter. "Now, allow me to take your coat…"

They're such good kids.

"Your room, Mister Looker." Elise pats the bed. It's a modest guestroom of vintage variety. The detective collapses into the plush bed. Ooh. It's so soft. So many pillows… smells so sweet…

"Happy dreaming, Mister Looker."

"Hmm… goodnight, Taro… Lisa…"

And he drifts into darkness.

Detective Looker jolts up in that heavenly bed.

It's still raining. It's still dark outside. His hand flies to his pockets—Oh. Good. It's still here… Where's my coat…?

No, more like what the hell happened?! He squeezes his eyes. And groans. Damn it! I KNEW I shouldn't have drunk! Happens all the damn time! I'm an International Police Officer, for Arceus's sake!

Looker rushes for the door. What the… The knob won't turn. "Hey!" He's pounding on the antique wood. "Hey, open up! Janice!"

I knew I should've brought that gun! Looker rolls up his sleeves and backs up. Okay. Academy training time. Ready? One… Two… Three!

BAM! The door flies open, and Looker crashes to the floor. After the stars leaves his eyes, he scrambles down the now-empty hallway, past the dining hall, past the foyer…

What the…? Looker runs his hands along the wall. No, there was most definitely a door here! But where the hell is it?!

"Ru ri ra… ru ri ra…" Gooseflesh explodes down his neck. C-Calm down, Handsome. You're an I-Interpol Agent. Y-You've seen p-p-plenty of stranger things…

Looker tiptoes back down the corridor. There's a suspicious door at the end of the dining hall. And that song is coming from behind the wall.

"Ru ri ra…" A speckle of red is dancing across the empty ballroom. Elise, right? She's humming to herself as she whirls, hands positioned above an unseen presence. And her lone shadow… is rippling under the ambiguous light.

Looker jerks his head away. He sprints back to the light. "Ah, hello, sir." The butler and maid are cleaning the table. "Did you enjoy your meal?"

"Yes! Where's the door!"

"Ah," says the maid. "We do apologize. The doors are quite heavy… that's the problem with this brand, you see."

"N-No not that door! The main door—"

"I think it's time to wake the young master from his nap," says the butler. "Please excuse us."

And with a small nod, they're gone. Seemingly vanished into the air.

Ding. Dong. Is it still midnight? The paintings are glaring down on him. When he attempts to focus on faces, colors blur into a disorienting mess, so much so that the expressions would contort.

Looker storms up the stairs. He opens doors—some of them are locked, but thank Arceus for Academy training. Library. Guestroom. Guestroom. A very disturbing pink room that he passes without a second glance. A study filled with dusty shelves, artifacts…

"What are you doing?"

Looker almost drops that model train. Toyotaro's face never changes as he crosses into the darkened room, his shoes making no sound upon the carpeted floors.

"Is this… is this your room?" Looker manages to choke out. Then he sees the handgun behind glass casing.

Toyotaro smiles. It's a polite one. "No, sir. This was my father's library. He was a fervent collector of classics." The young man runs a long finger across the books' spines. "Maihime. Takekurabe. Hamlet. La Metamorfosi."

Looker casts one more glance around the room, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Haha… quite observant, are you?" Toyotaro's expression softens. He sighs, his shoulder slumping with that breath. "You see, my mother remarried into the family when I was only six. Elise became my sister… All was well until winter struck, and my father couldn't leave the bed. The disease had already consumed his legs, and the doctors estimated that it was only a matter of time until…"

Silence. A grandfather clock chimes from somewhere in the mansion.

"I'm sorry," Looker grunts.

"Oh no, don't be." Toyotaro gives a soft, pained smile. "It wasn't your fault." His fingers hover over his necktie. It's a simple yet beautiful knot. "Anyhow, I shouldn't trouble a stranger with this. Do you want me to show you around?"

Looker sniffs. "Um. Thank you, but… I need to talk to your mother."

"Oh? For what, if I may ask?"

Looker hesitates. Toyotaro waits. Well… he does appear like he's a proper young man… "I'm actually a police officer." He fails to see that minor twitch in the other's eye. "I'm looking for someone. Has anyone come across the chateau in the last few months?"

"Hmmm… well, soldiers. Children with Pokemon. But they never stay around, you see. Everyone's always moving on…" The young man tilts his head. "I don't recall seeing anyone out of the ordinary. Is something the matter?"

Looker pats the Toyotaro's shoulder, and the latter stiffens ever so slightly. "Thanks, son. I need to go now."

"Of… course…. Take care…"

Down the hallway Looker runs until something catches his eye. An unmarked door. So plain that it could've easily been missed by untrained eyes.

"Wait, what are you—"

And Looker kicks that door down before Janice can stop him.

"Who are you?! Show yourself!"

"SHIT! Lucian, she's gonna kill us! HURRY UP!"

"STOP SCREAMING INTO MY EAR!"

"Stop running away!"

A blast of stale wind nicks Xatu's wing. The bird scowls, but it keeps strong. Infernape fuels the cloud camouflage while Lucian scrambles to avoid Cynthia's wrath.

Holy Arceus we're halfway across the region already.

"Augh!" Lucian whirls back. "Flint, stop-!"

"Ow!"

"Bzzt!"

Lucian swats his hand, and the shock comes again. Wait, what is that? It's too small to be a Volbeat…

"Bzzt!" And it shocks him again.

"Oh, you think that's funny, eh?" Lucian reaches for a Poke ball. And that damn ball of light laughs. It dares to mock him! "That's it! Alakazam—"

Flint slaps his colleague. "What happened to—ow!—keeping a low profile, huh?"

"Hey!" Cynthia yells. "I know we've met before! You're going to be sorry!"

"Arceus—ow! Flint, keep this… this thing away from me!"

"I don't even know what it is, Lucian! OW! Why is it attacking us?!"

More like it's playing with us! Lucian glares at that ball lighting in its blue eyes. "Who—or what—the hell are you?!" Even though Pokemon can't talk…

The Thing spins closer to Xatu's skull with a raised axis. The bird blanches. But before Lucian can sic the intruder, the light vanishes into thin air.

"Is that Xatu?" Cynthia hisses. Holy Arceus. O-Okay. Well, you see, Cynthia, we weren't following you because we were suspicious or anything. We… we just happened to be going to Eterna City! To look at the statue! Huh, why am I running away? Haha, well. You see—

Xatu suddenly jerks. Lucian's chin slams to the bird's back. "What the blazes?" Flint cries.

An updraft? A sudden gust of wind—of cold, stale, silver wind blasts into his face, almost ripping hair from scalp. The cloud cover dispels, but (fortunately) the guest is even obstructing Cynthia, who's hanging tightly to her Togekiss.

"X-Xatu! Hold on!"

Flint keeps his colleague's head down as the Silver Wind picks up speed. It's safe to call it a typhoon now. But if he squints hard enough, he can make out a shape… a Drifblim… with… Holy Arceus, is that a person?!

Then the gales of darkness land an uppercut to his chin, and Flint falls over Lucian's back. Xatu's dropping altitude, down, down, down until it collides with golden sands.

THUMP!

When the ringing finally stops, Lucian rolls off the poor Pokemon's back. He recalls the broken bird. Damn. Will's going to let me have it now…

"Yo, what the fuck was…" Flint suddenly leaps to his feet. A saline breeze wafts through his hair. "Hey, we're home! Lucian, it's Sunyshore!" He runs his hands down his body. "Arceus, where are my sandals?"

The sandal in question smacks his red afro. "Why did you fall from the sky? Your memories still intact?"

Flint whips around, intending to give hell to the idiot who would dare throw his precious footwear. Then he gasps, and a large grin spreads on his ruddy face.

"'Sup?" Volkner grunts. "The shooting stars came early this year."

"Man, it's been so long!" Flint wraps an arm over his friend. "Well. Actually, not that long, but still. Hey, you wouldn't believe what happened to us. Lucian and I—

"Lucian? Where are you going? Don't you want to have iced tea at Volk's place?"

"No." Lucian throws himself over Girafarig's strong back. "Flint, meet me back at the League."

"Hey hey, what's the big rush?"

Lucian shoots a glare at the blank-faced Gym Leader. "Someone like you wouldn't understand, even if I used pictures!"

"Lucian…" Flint grumbles while Volkner frowns. And with one last huff, Lucian wills Girafarig down the golden sands of Sunyshore, past the armed guards, the armored vans, the rolling ocean spray…

And there's not even a wanted poster in sight.

The room is empty. Almost disappointingly so. Janice shoves Looker aside. She's also staring at the empty bed. At the closed and securely-latched windows.

"What are you looking for?" they say in unison.

Looker crosses his arms. "Ma'am. I'm actually an agent from the International Police. I have reason to suspect that you are withholding valuable information from me."

Janice's lips twist. "Like what, Looker?"

"Mother!" Elise bounces into the room, effectively shattering the tension. "Here she is! My, what an impatient little girl you are, Elise!"

"Elise?" Looker echoes.

"Yes, sir. That's Elise," says Elise, patting the Gengar's head. The Pokemon notices Looker's staring and spreads an ominous grin, and his stomach plummets.

"Mister Looker is a policeman." Heads turn to a stern-faced Toyotaro in the doorway, flanked by the butler and maid. "He is looking for someone."

Janice's eyes are stony. "Do you have proof? Looker?" She says it as if it's not his true name. And she isn't incorrect.

"Yes, it's…" Damn! "Um… I left it at home, but I assure you that I am an International Police Officer! The genuine article! At times I'll be on a ship—"

"The visitors get livelier with each decade," muses the butler.

"What? N-No, it's true! I'm actually looking for a suspicious person!"

Janice's eyes narrow. "A suspicious person? At my chateau?"

And Looker launches into the short version of a very long story. He pulls out that poster, and he could've sworn that the mood plunged into a scathing snowstorm.

"That is quite a horrible tale, Detective Looker," Elise says once he's done. She exchanges a look with her family. "The outside world is indeed… horrifying. Now were a wanted criminal to hide in our house—"

"He's not—" Looker catches himself. The mansion's residents are staring at him intently. As if he'd lost his damn marbles. "I-I mean… Um…"

"Why did you come alone?" Janice murmurs. And for a heartbeat in time, Looker sees another person in her place. A familiar face that refuses to surface into memory, but he clearly remembers the hatred spewing from those eyes. "If you were to apprehend such a threat to society, shouldn't you have brought reinforcements? Protocol mandates…"

She then casts that aside. "Well, Detective Looker. Feel free to conduct a full sweep of our humble home. I just don't feel safe with a lurking menace…"

Looker swallows the dry lump in his throat. Everyone is nodding, but the gesture is forced.

"All right then," Janice says. "Let's snuff out that rat bastard."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am."

"Oh, no harm done, Detective. It pleases me to know that calamity will not befall my family."

Looker coughs politely into his fist. "Um… sorry again for going back for the fifth time. I just wanted to double-check."

Janice hands him back his coat. "I understand. You detectives are so meticulous in nature. Stubborn, reckless, I daresay… but very much dedicated to your pursuit of justice. Quite admirable."

That statement incites a burst of warmth up Looker's cheeks. "Y-yes… No one appreciates good cops nowadays." He didn't mean for the woman to hear that. But she does, and she gives him a mysterious smirk.

"Farewell, Detective Looker," Elise sighs. "We've only met for so brief…"

"I have to go back to Headquarters, Elise." Looker blinks—hard. He's never the type for farewells. This emotion thing is always hard. "But I'll stop by soon—"

"Oh, we can't possibly ask that," Janice says. "Just visiting us is enough. Surely you have better things to attend to, yes?"

Toyotaro gives him a small nod. "Happy travels, Detective Looker."

"Bye, son." The young man stiffens. Looker just keeps smiling as his throat fills with phlegm. "J… Janice. These two will grow up to be wonderful adults. I just know it."

"Oh. Is that so?" Janice's smile is…. odd, to say the least. She puts her hands on their shoulders, herding them back. "Well. Farewell then, Looker. We'll meet again soon."

"Okay." Looker keeps waving until the mansion recedes back into the forest. Crunch, crunch… It's light outside now, as if time had stood still while he was inside the Old Chateau. In fact, the ground is dry. No puddles. No sign of that recent storm.

They're such nice people… Fate can be so cruel sometimes. Looker dabs his eyes with a sleeve. I guess there are strange things in this world after all. Oh well. At least my search for Cyrus hasn't been in va…

Looker freezes. Wait a minute. The Old Chateau is… There weren't any stairs, but…

But there's a third floor.

Looker rushes back through the gates. Instead of going to the door, he produces that foldable jet pack from his pocket. The mansion is exactly as it should be in the daytime: old, neglected, and crawling with ivy.

"Sorry, Janice." The jet pack wheezes, but it fulfills its function nevertheless. It's too dusty to peer inside, so with a little fingernail action, Looker slides the glass pane out of place.

It's so dark. A darkness that even light cannot penetrate. But something must be here… it's the perfect squatting place for—

Blue. A wheelchair with its back to Looker. A splotch of faded blue. A head.

Looker lunges through the window, handcuffs in hand. "There you are, Cy-!"

But it's not Cyrus. It's a boy. A pale, fragile child with his hands folded over his laps, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Sitting on the wheelchair like it's his throne, a blanket draped over his legs.

Looker's hands fly to his mouth. The boy isn't moving… not doing anything except sitting there… his chest perfectly still.

And the strangest thing is, Looker could've sworn that he'd seen this child before. A brief glimpse perhaps, but that image was forever seared into his retinas. He fails to conjure the exact memory, but his heart remembers. It remembers the moment when it quivered into bloody tatters.

Something shifts in the shadows. Red. Six pulsating spikes. Patches of blackness, unfurling to the light, wings unlike anything Looker has ever seen before.

Clink. Clink. Time stands still as floorboards creak, as muted colors fuzz into existence behind the sleeping prince. A swaying motion. Orange. White. A lone red eye, glinting in the darkness…

And the unmistakable smell of burnt human flesh.

Looker almost cracks his skull on the way out. The jet pack screams as it slices across the blue skies, past leaves, Starly, Drifblim, Murkrow… passing everything until the billowing flags of the Sinnoh League crawls into sight.

When Looker finally reaches an area blanketed by sun, he finally looks over his shoulder. It's perfectly peaceful.

There's no sign that a winged monster had been chasing him.

Cynthia bursts into the door. "Cyrus, the—" Then she sees them.

"What are you wearing?"

B-2 shrugs. "What's wrong with a little cosplay, Cynthia? Grown-ass adults do it all the time."

"Oh yes," R-8 murmurs. "I just love being a maid. Oh, but this apron's so cute though…"

Cynthia takes a step back. Around her, Grunts are all half-dressed in vintage outfits. "Did I… Did I miss something?"

"Hey!" Mars waltzes into the room. "Welcome back, Cynthia!"

"Hi, Mars! Ooh, who did your hair? That's quite lovely."

Behind the grinning Commander is a scowling Saturn. He's attempting to undo his gel-pressed cowlick. When a faded Haunter offers to undo the necktie, Saturn just waves it aside.

Cynthia runs up the stairs. "Jupi— Oh wow. You look great in that evening dress."

"Thank you." Jupiter gives a timid smile. "We had a little masquerade, is all. There were some old costumes… Just… having a little fun in the middle of a national manhunt… My eyes are up here." Cynthia flushes, but Jupiter merely snorts. "You came for Cyrus, right? He should be in the attic…" She frowns. "He should be up there. I'll get him—"

Gengar enters with the occupied wheelchair. Rotom is absolutely animated, whirling and chattering like a pack of hyper Bidoof.

"Ah. We… Welcome…" Cyrus stops to catch his breath, as well as to sit properly into the chair. "Champion Cynthia. You've arrived. Come to my office. We have much to discuss."

"Sure." Then she sees him for the first time. "Cyrus, did you just run a marathon or something? You look… green."

"I'm sorry? Oh. No, running away would be out of the question." Something glints in his eyes. Like he knows something she doesn't. Nothing new. "I doubt my legs can handle such strenuous activity."

"Then why are there leaves in your hair?" Jupiter musses that fluffy blue head. "Arceus, there's a branch—"

"Jupiter, see it that everyone is settling in. Champion Cynthia, I have some developments—"

"Cyrus, you'll never believe what happened!" He merely raises a brow. Cynthia licks her lips. "The Gastly suddenly attacked me! Out of nowhere!"

"The recent time phenomenon has affected Pokemon as well as humans, Champion Cynthia. There has been increased reports of wild Pokemon disturbances."

Cynthia scoffs. "I… guess… But someone was following me into the forest, Cyrus. I think they know. And I know that I know them, but I couldn't tell—"

"Just be careful next time, Champion Cynthia. You weren't hurt, were you? Good." Cyrus gestures forward. "Come now. To my office. I've compiled a decent report pertaining to the Time Gears, as well as my theory behind the solution."

Cynthia puts up her hands. "Okay, okay. What's the big rush, sheesh?"

Then Cyrus stops. He turns around to the chattering crowd. They notice his presence and shut up immediately. "Stellar work," he says softly. "I'd expect nothing less."

"Oh, Cyrus!"

"D-D-Did he j-just c-c-c-compliment us?!" "

"KYAAAAHHAHAHAHAAA!"

"Of course, Doc! We're your team, after all!"

"KYAAAHAHHAAAHAAAAAAAAAAA!"

As the Grunts deal with the fallout of such simple words, Cyrus turns to his Commanders. "Mars," he says. "Very creative. Excellent improvisation on your part. Jupiter, you handled yourself professionally, as I knew you would. And Saturn…"

Saturn holds his breath. Cyrus squints at him… then he chuckles. It's a gentle, quiet sound. But it's one that makes Cynthia's heart flutter, a sound that stills all conversation in the room.

And for the first time in a while, the sun is shining directly over the Old Chateau.

"Commander Saturn." Cyrus's eyes are warm, his voice rich with genuine emotion. "Well done. You should be proud of yourself."