POV: Cynthia / LOCATION: [classified]

Charon's words remain with me like the spray from an enraged Skuntank.

When I found out that Looker intended to visit Cyrus, I immediately inserted myself into the fray. The detective hadn't changed since the last time we met, but he did seem quite nervous around me.

So as we soar the skies, me on Togekiss and him on his jetpack, I raise the question.

"Looker, are you scared of me?"

His yelp affirms my suspicions.

"W-What do you mean?" he cries. "Y-You're the Champion of Sinnoh! You helped me get my promotion! Why should an agent of Interpol be s-s-scared of you?"

I ease Togekiss in closer. He almost crashes into the cloud trying to avoid me.

"W-Well," he says. "That Draco Meteor was, um, certainly something. 25% of Veilstone was destroyed in the attack, but thankfully we've issued evacuations beforehand." His voice tapers off to a whisper, so I can't catch the rest of the following sentence: "When we dragged Cyrus out of the rubble, it wasn't a pretty sight. It's miracle he's even alive…"

I try again. "So why do you need to see Cyrus?"

"Because HQ wanted his confession."

"You'll interrogate him?"

Looker wets his lips. "Um… looks like it. I've read over every handbook we have, so hopefully everything goes well…" His voice drops again. "Not like it'll be easy…"

I feel bad for the detective. For someone who was so gung ho before, it's jarring to see him now doubt himself. I want to give him a reassuring pat on the back, but he'll probably break apart if I touch him.

Cyrus is paler than usual. It might've been the harsh white lights glaring down on him, but his lack of color seems to run deeper than skin.

Nevertheless, he greets me with that familiar, all-knowing smirk.

"Welcome back," he rasps. "I'd offer you some coffee, but my hands are occupied at this moment."

For some weird reason, his cockiness puts me at ease. "Do they let you have coffee in here?" I say, taking a seat.

"Yes, and I have my own valet as well. I'm also not the madman who almost blew up Veilstone." He jabs his chin to the space beside me. "I am restrained, Detective Looker. Please have a seat."

Oh yeah. Looker's here too.

"T-Thanks." Looker pulls his chair to the edge of the table and sits. "Um… how are your legs? Can you lift them?"

Cyrus's smirk hardens. "You came to play Good Cop Bad Cop, yes? Your posture doesn't instill fear in criminals, Detective."

Looker stiffens. Sweat dots his temples. "W-Well, I haven't started the interrogation yet. The doctors alerted me to your condition, and I'm actually thinking of postponing this until you recover—"

"Tch. You're too soft."

"What?"

"If I recalled correctly, Champion Cynthia is pressed for time. Stop dawdling and do your job."

It's amazing how Cyrus's tone can go from smug to demanding at the snap of the fingers. I'm about to tell him that with the League closed, I'm not really that busy when he shoots me a cold, silencing glare.

"U-Um… yes." Looker scrambles for his briefcase. He produces a tape recorder, a notebook, and four triangular juice pouches. Drinking juice must be his way of relieving stress.

Looker starts by clearing his throat. "Why?"

Cyrus tilts his head. "Why do we exist? You'll have to be more specific than that, Detective."

Looker clears his throat again. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish?"

"You still doubt yourself, Detective. Try to channel the same self-confidence from the day of the raid. As long as you fool yourself into believing that you're invincible, others will believe it too."

Then Cyrus straightens. "As I've told the Champion, I sought a form of energy powerful enough to change the world. The current world of ours is plagued by strife and suffering. It has, and always will be, a struggle to survive."

Looker glances at me, hopelessly lost scrawled all over his face. I shrug.

"Why do we create meaningless conflict? Because we are incomplete. Because we lacking humans live in an imperfect world." Cyrus's smirk twists into an ugly sneer. Feral, almost. "Such imperfections I loathe with every fiber of my being. That is why I needed the power to create a new world… to steer it back on the right path… To make the world complete. Make it perfect."

The tape recorder is still running long after Cyrus stopped speaking. He leans back in the chair, eyelids half-open in a drowsy sort of way. Meanwhile, I just stare at the blank notebook in Looker's laps.

"Huh?" he says, summing up everyone's reactions.

"That sounds like the mad ramblings of your local conspiracy network," I mutter.

Cyrus shrugs. "Pity that you fail to understand why our world is a flawed one… not that I ever expect you will."

Looker scratches his head. "I know our world isn't perfect, but don't you think your method is a bit… extreme?"

"Radical or not, at least I'm willing to do something to change it."

"But why the bombs? If you hate conflict, why build weapons of mass destruction?"

"It was a last resort, Detective. I had no plans to use it against humanity. The Galactic Bombs were only meant to draw out the mythical Po—"

"How can you be so calm?!" Looker barks. "If the bombs went off, numerous people and Pokemon will die! Have the consequences never occurred to you—"

"I always consider the potential consequences before my next course of action!" Cyrus snaps. "And I'm not some immature child that you can berate like so!"

Then he drops his voice. "Speaking of foreseeable ramifications, why did you shoot my Crobat? If the lives of others are so precious to you, then why did you almost kill my Pokemon?"

Looker scoots all the way back in his chair. The reversed power dynamic in this room can be seen from the moon. Even the stale, frigid air crackles with fury, the source being the man chained to his chair.

"W-We never meant to hurt Crobat," Looker whispers. "Trust me, I wished it wouldn't have come to that, but… There was no other way. You would've detonated that bomb."

Cyrus gnashes his teeth. Then his shoulders slump, a direct result of all that suppressed rage leaving his body. "Last resorts," he mumbles, "are a necessary evil. I hope can see eye-to-eye on that now, Detective."

All is silent until a thunderous boom rips from Looker's pocket, a sound similar to falling grenades.

"Sorry!" he yelps, fumbling for his phone. "Y-Yes, it's Looker. Hold on." Turning to me, he says, "Higher-ups are calling. I need to step out really fast."

After Looker leaves, I turn back to Cyrus, expecting him to quip some witty remark. But he doesn't. He's stiff as a statue, what remaining color drained from his complexion. With a start, I realize that I've seen him like this before: it was when I slammed my fist on the table. When I showered Draco Meteor down his head.

He looks horrified.

When Looker returns, Cyrus instantly reverts to his smug demeanor. It's such a jarring change that leaves me wondering if what I saw had actually happened.

"I'm needed in HQ," Looker murmurs. "Higher-ups want me to look into another criminal syndicate called the Seven Sages. We'll have to continue this interrogation some other time."

The detective collects his equipment. "I'll keep in touch, Cynthia. And Cyrus…"

Cyrus looks rather surprised that he's being addressed directly. "Yes, Detective Looker?"

"I'll tell the guards to allow you access to painkillers. Wrap it up, Cynthia, so he can rest."

With that, Looker departs.

Cyrus scoffs softly. "Pity and compassion are products of a weak and incomplete heart. He cannot be an effective figure of authority if he lets his emotions cloud his rationale."

"Just how badly were you hurt?" I whisper.

"I've been through worse," he replies with a strained smirk. "Anyhow, you look troubled, Cynthia. What ails you?"

Cyrus's intense staring extracts the words from my lips.

"Charon went to see me," I say.

His smirk fades. "What? Why? When?"

"Yesterday. He wanted to brag about the Relic Key. Some mythical thing that's actually two complimentary counterparts. It's supposed to open the door to a grand treasure or something. Made no sense to me."

Cyrus is silent. He shifts his gaze to the side, brows furrowed as he marinates in his thoughts.

"Don't tell me you believe that shit," I say. "Charon obviously made it up."

"I wonder…" He then drags his eyes back to me. "How are Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter faring? Are they safe?"

"Last time I checked, Charon pushed for everyone to be pardoned." Everyone except you. "Other than that, I don't know."

Cyrus does not look happy with that answer. When the officer moves in to escort him out, he matches my gaze again. This time, he's dead serious.

"I have a favor to ask of you," he says.

"I'm not breaking you out."

"Stop fooling around. I need your help."

Help? Cyrus, needing my help? Has the sky turned green as well?

"It depends," I say slowly. "It'll cost you either way."

Cyrus grinds his teeth. "So be it. I need you to infiltrate Galactic HQ. Find out what the hell Charon has done to my team."