POV: Cynthia/ LOCATION: Ruined Prison
Cyrus.
Why does everything lead back to you? Time and time again, our fates intersect though we hold divergent goals. It's as if the universe insists on pushing us together when we're meant to be apart.
Why? Why did you turn back in Foggy Forest? Why were you out there in the first place—no, I know why. You knew that a Time Gear was hidden there. You needed it to make your twisted ambition a reality.
Only, you found me instead. If our destinies had never crossed, then you would've carried out your madness with no interference. I, your team, and the millions of people of this world will perish in the name of your new, imperfect future.
Yet, I'm coming to you now for help. In the depths of my heart, I know that you're the only one who'll believe the tall tales I have yet to tell. If there's anyone crazy enough to come up with a plan to locate the bearer of this Red Sunstone and counter an inevitable paralysis, it's you.
It's always you.
When we meet again, it's straight to business. Not necessarily about the Time Gears, but you, Cyrus. What the hell went down in Crystal Lake? That answer might be the key to unraveling many more mysteries.
This time, I will get the truth from you. The first of many to pry from your cold, stubborn claws.
While I'm conceiving a plan to sweet-talk the prison personnel, my peripherals spot a warbling violet blob on the ground.
Woah. What's she doing here by herself? When I ask her that, she pulls out of her head to regard me with a tight smile.
"Got a summons from higher command," she says, showing me her buzzing radio. "Shit is about to hit the fan."
I examine the holster strung across her hip. Her crisp navy uniform highlights her triceps while her golden badge glimmers in the muted sunlight.
"Melissa pulled some strings," she huffs proudly. "Granted, I have to start over at the bottom, but I guarantee you that I'll kicking back in my old office very soon."
"You look nice," I blurt.
Jupiter coyly flicks my forehead. "Sorry, honey. The list is already long. Plus, you're not my type.
"Anyway, are you heading that way too? Let's go together."
"Something isn't right."
That's the first thing Jupiter says before we even reach the steel complex.
True to her intuition, the stench of burnt chlorophyll strikes my nostrils. Beyond the tangled barbed wires lies a scar upon the earth: a sea of ravaged land. A strong breeze blows in from the sea, scattering cinders to the cloudy skies.
The area still smells of rain. With a hint of fiery destruction.
Jupiter whistles. "Looks like lightning hit this place more than thrice last night. It's a breeding ground for bad juju."
While she joins a group of uniformed officers, I take a gander around the scene.
The buffeting gales that night have uprooted trees and earth. Whatever hardy grass that remained has been drowned by muddy puddles. Near the foliage are sleek black helicopters bearing the insignia of the International Police. Further down are flashing red and blue lights.
Judging from the yellow crime scene tape, an investigation is currently underway. But for what?
Jupiter returns with the smoldering tea.
"So apparently there was a prison break. Yes, the type on TV. At approximately dawn, lightning killed the power and caused fires to break out, which led to the fire alarms malfunctioning, which opened all the cell doors."
She holds up a finger, signaling a pause so I can absorb all that shit. Behind her, guards are still rounding up escaped inmates.
"To put it simply, it was shitstorm after shitstorm. Everyone's in hot water, and higher-ups are sorting out the facts of this incident."
"Incident?"
She crosses her arms. "You really believe it was an accident? Isn't it too convenient that lightning even struck at all? Note that this is an institution constructed to eliminate any possibility of escape. For it to suddenly spark up during the biggest storm of the decade?"
I briefly dwell on it before moving on. It's a matter best left to the authorities. I came here for something else.
"I need to get inside," I say. "Can you smuggle me in?"
"Or you can just waltz in, kid. Aren't there perks to being the Champion of Sinnoh?"
Oh. Jupiter's right. While she handles the investigative end, I swiftly walk past the Interpol agents, duck under the tape strung around the main entrance of the prison, and I would've successfully snuck in if I didn't bump into Looker.
"What are you doing here?" we exclaim in unison.
Looker peers at me with narrowed eyes, his tongue kept in his jaws. I attempt to bypass him, but the agents stop me. If I didn't know better, it's like they're blocking me from entering.
"Champion Cynthia, please vacate the premises at once."
Woah. When has Looker actually done his job?
"I need to speak to Cyrus," I say. "It's important!"
Still, Looker refuses to budge.
Fortunately, that's where Jupiter steps in. Her gaze bounces between us, barely hiding her morbid curiosity.
"Officer Jane," says Looker. "Can you please escort the Champion back to the League?"
"I don't take orders from Interpol. Besides, aren't you two in cahoots?"
Looker frowns. Today, the silver streak in his hair gleams like a blade in dimming candlelight. He glances at the nearest agent, who withdraws a piece of paper in an evidence bag.
"I thought I made it abundantly clear," Looker rumbles," that Cyrus was my case! How does the federal prosecutor have his written confession?!"
Oh shiiii… That.
Jupiter says slowly, "His confession was broadcasted across all major networks. But how does this concern Cynthia? That lunatic ratted himself out."
"We have reports that Cynthia was his last visitor. From your prior attitude towards him, the circumstances surrounding his confession is… dubious."
Even though we're outside, I feel like I'm on the other side of the interrogation table.
"What are you saying?" I snarl. "That I forced Cyrus to write that confession? What about the scary lawyer?"
"The federal prosecutor. A famous one that I never recalled bringing into this case."
"Her! She was there when Lucian was yelling at me!"
"Lucian? Where is he now?"
"I-I don't know…"
Jupiter waves her hands. "Cut her a break, Looker. She's just a kid."
"She's the damn Champion of Sinnoh," Looker spits. "Cynthia, Lucian, and the federal prosecutor were the last to see Cyrus. But she came some time later, and Lucian isn't here to provide a statement. That makes you, Cynthia, our primary interest."
I open my mouth to retort when Jupiter cuts in, her tone hushed.
"What do you mean 'last person to see him?'"
An agent scrambles to Looker. "Sir, the remaining inmates have been located and detained. We've searched the island four times, but Cyrus hasn't been found."
Looker drags a vicious claw through his hair. "Then search harder! Raid every crevice, no matter how small! We don't have much time!"
Another officer rushes in. "S-Sir, great news! Our Houndooms found a lead!"
Looker had warned us very sternly that we risk arrest by further solicitation. Jupiter ignored it, and I rode along in her shadow.
In the back of the prison is a gaping hole where a wall used to stand. A peek inside reveals extensive water damage, collapsed ceilings, and a charred, flooded hallway.
Could lightning single-handedly have caused so much destruction?
And there's a lingering stench, faint due to proximity. Something burning. Kerosene? No, it's more… organic, for lack of a better term. Coming from deep within the ruined prison, beyond the yellow tape. It's a smell that makes my stomach churn.
Presently, Looker is gaping at a rust-red trail, blackened by moisture, that winds haphazardly through the collapsed dirt. It ends at the ledge of the craggy coast which overlooks a tranquil sea. Below, brilliant blue waves lap against the barnacle-crusted rocks.
"His scent ends here," the officer is saying.
On my right is Jupiter, whose face is as stony as the statues at Foggy Forest. As her eyes sweep across the scene, her fists tighten, fingernails piercing into her flesh until it bleeds.
"Let's not be hasty," Looker says softly. "First, we must establish a timeline. Cynthia, was there anyone else who saw him before you?"
"N-No… not that I know of."
"I see. Jane, do you—"
"No! Why would I waste my time with that bastard? That traitor deserves to rot in a padded cell!"
We stare at Jupiter, who growls and storms away.
"Heh heh heh… rather quick to deny, eh?"
At that sleazy chuckle, we spin around to be greeted by glinting red glasses. The old man taps a finger against his chin, clicking his lips in disapproval.
"Citizens are not permitted in an active crime scene," Looker says. "Charon—"
Jupiter marches over. "What the fuck do you want?!"
Charon looks Jupiter up and down. "That police uniform doesn't fit you at all, Jane. A former criminal upholding the law?"
It's taking everything Looker has to hold Jupiter back. "W-Wait," he wheezes. "Charon, we have reports of you withdrawing a large sum of money on the night of the storm—"
"Is this what Interpol taught you, Looker? To toss around blatant accusations without substantial evidence?" Charon waggles a finger. "What I do with my money is my business. This certainly does not link me to Cyrus's little accident."
At once, Looker and Jupiter stiffen.
Then Charon covers his mouth. "Oopsies! I jumped to conclusions. You know I didn't mean that, right, Cynthia?
"Because you know that there are no such things as accidents."
With a slimy pat on my back, Charon hops into his space pod and speeds away.
As I stare at his smoke trail, something clicks in my mind. Puzzle pieces falling into place, revealing a horrifying puzzle once shrouded in fog.
"He's up to no good," Jupiter is mumbling. "You should send someone to keep an eye on him, Looker."
"J-Jane, you know that we can't just march into HQ without clear and convincing proof."
"Jupiter?"
"Yeah, Cynthia?"
I show her my souvenirs from my recent expedition with Rowan. "Do you recognize these?"
"Of course. Those are pieces from Charon's space pod. Must've crashed into something on the here, judging from that patch near his engine… but why do you have it?"
Holy. Shit. I'm trembling now. From anticipation, or…
"I found this in Foggy Forest," I whisper.
And just like that, the adults understand. Jupiter glares at Looker, who whips out his radio.
"I can't believe this," he mutters. "I just got assigned to Sinnoh, and I'm going to conduct a second raid… this time, however, we won't underestimate our enemy."