Disclaimer: No Protons were hurt in the making of this chapter. Maybe. Probably. Who knows, man?

Lines of code scrolled by his vision. Color-coded functions and variables jumped out, integers and strings, loops, lists and dictionaries. Proton watched them all on his laptop screen with a far-off stare, recognizing the lines but hardly paying attention. How long had he been here? Too long. Much too long. He blinked slowly, his unfocused gaze turning momentarily to the gamut of empty, disposable coffee cups that were forming a small civilization on his desk. Only cups, no plates. His stomach growled in protest, but Proton ignored it and turned back to his laptop. More code. More useless, useless code. He ran a bare hand across his face, rubbing his temples and feeling his stubble. Fuck, he needed a shave. A shave, a shower, and a nap. Maybe not necessarily in that order. But he couldn't. Just couldn't. It had been days, now, since he'd gotten Petrel to take him to Blackthorne to pick up these stupid pokeballs. He'd been so certain they were the answer to his problems, but the pokeballs and greatballs didn't provide him with any great insights he hadn't considered already. He was working through the ultraball now, auto-scrolling through code to try and find whatever variables or functions he was missing in his pokeball project.

He was supposed to have gotten his proof to Giovanni weeks ago. How much longer would he be patient? There had been no word from him, yet, but Proton felt with every passing hour that he was steadily running out of time. His mind flashed back again to the day of his promotion. It had been more than a scuffle, murdering Tachibana and Kuang. They'd ganged up on him. Kuang had got him by the arm and Tachibana had come close enough to slice his damn throat. Proton remembered pistol-whipping Kuang, lodging a bullet between his eyes. Fighting Tachibana for the gun, watching it land with a clatter, and the desperate battle to regain possession of it. For a minute he'd thought he was done for, but he'd thrust her to the wall, taken the pistol, and blew her brains over the paint. The whole time, Matori sat stoically at her desk, typing away at her computer like nothing was happening.

Would it be him, next?

Proton imagined how it would happen - one of the others slipping cyanide in his drink. Strangled by Ariana's arbok. Choked out by Petrel's koffing. Mauled and burnt by Archer's houndoom. Giovanni watching his body broken down into a bleeding carcass with the same look as a man sitting through a mildly boring wildlife documentary. His stomach turned violently, and Proton gasped aloud as he lurched over, hands tangling in his hair as he struggled to breathe.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

"Pardon... is this a bad time...?"

He took a moment longer, struggling until he could take a few deep gulps of air, and swallowing hard, he pulled himself up and settled back with a final, long sigh. Archer had been watching this entire little episode from just inside the door, his usual clipboard tucked under one arm and a large thermos clutched tightly in the other hand like some sort of great jewel. He was eyeing Proton with a curious concern, brow raised and mouth drawn in a pensive frown. He didn't wait for Proton to speak, but instead came to settle in the seat across from him, leaning back himself and taking a long swig from his thermos.

"It's alright, you know," he said, "You're new. It's a stressful position."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Proton forced out in reply, and Archer's knowing smile made him want to reach out and slap his dumbass face.

"Something I find that helps," he continued as though he hadn't heard him, "is limiting my caffeine intake." He raised his thermos in a silent toast, and Proton wanted to slap him even more.

"What do you want, Archer?" he finally snapped. Archer took another sip from his thermos.

"I was just in the area and figured you might be good company. We got the bid on that building in Goldenrod, I'm just finalizing some paperwork. Master Giovanni is in a very good mood."

"I can take the copies to him," Proton blurted out before he could stop himself. "Since, ah, you're so busy. Probably. Are you busy? I mean, do you want me to...?" Archer laughed, his sly smirk broadening as he took another sip from his thermos. Laughing at him, Proton imagined. He knew he seemed desperate, but that was only because he was. He waited patiently for Archer to swallow, and just like that he agreed.

"I am very busy, yes," he chuckled, "be my guest. Master Giovanni is currently spending the week at the gym in Viridian. The League season is starting soon, so of course, he needs to get his training in. Do you follow the Kanto League, Proton?"

"No," Proton admitted, "Battling ain't my thing, and I ain't had a TV to watch. No fun when you can't see the pokeballs."

"You ought to, one day. Some of these trainers' strategies are simply inspired." Archer finished scribbling on a few papers and then passed a stack across the table to Proton. "Here. These are for him. And if I were you, I would at least bring him a coffee along the way. Don't worry." He raised his thermos in solidarity. "I've been in your position before. Ariana and Petrel, too, though neither of them would admit it. As long as you behave yourself, Master Giovanni can be surprisingly forgiving."

Proton would believe that when he saw it. It turned out Archer had sought his office for a reason, which was partly to actually check up on him and partly to swap out stacks of paperwork. He took the stack Proton had already completed and placed it delicately in its own folder into a small backpack he was carrying with him, then left another stack and took off before Proton could so much as complain about it. What an asshole. Still, knowing that his special delivery afforded him the time to put it all off, he supposed it wasn't the end of the world - not now, anyways. He packed up Giovanni's papers and went off to try and bum a ride off someone. Unfortunately, Decarli was busy correcting a grunt, Forhan and Heim were in the middle of taking inventory, Carillo was training some of the more recent recruits, and Peng had completely disappeared for a reason no one was able to articulate. That left Proton with one option; Petrel was pissed as shit when he approached him just to ask.

"Fucking Christ, I'm not your goddamn chauffeur!" the doctor groused, shoulders tense as he punctuated his sentences with angry waves of his clipboard. "Do I not look busy? Have you seen my waiting room? Do you understand that grunts are magnets for grievous injury?" And it was true: the infirm's waiting room was currently packed with grunts who all seemed to have significantly injured themselves in some tremendously stupid fashion or another. Proton shrugged.

"I'll buy you a coffee," he offered. Petrel offered a sour look in return.

"I'm still waiting for the cigs you promised me last time," he snapped. Proton shrugged again.

"I'll buy you a coffee and some cigs."

"No."

"Come on," Proton begged him, "Coffee, cigs, and a favor. Anything. I just need to get to boss."

"Why do you want to play mailman so badly?" Petrel turned away from him and shouted a name to the waiting room, then turned to start walking towards an examination room. Proton hastened to fall into step behind him. "Look, anyone can take Master Giovanni the papers, it doesn't have to be you. Send them with a runner."

"Petrel, please!" Proton grabbed him by the back of his lab coat and whirled him around, shoving him away from the door and into the corner of the hall. Something flashed across the taller man's face for a second - a seething anger, lips curled in a disgusted snarl, but just as quickly returned to Petrel's resting bitch face - and as Proton looked him in the eye, waited with bated breath for the answer, he could see the gears and servos whirring and clicking in his head.

"You don't have anything," it dawned on him, "your project hasn't gone anywhere, has it?"

"I can't lose this job," Proton answered, "if I could just talk to him while he's in a good mood-"

"Losing your job would be the least of your worries."

"I know. I know. But the cash is important. Coffee, cigs, favor. You get me to the gym, I owe you big time."

Petrel's laugh was a lot less reassuring than Archer's was. Just like the other executive, Petrel's eyes were alight in amusement, but just like his smile they were cold, distant, and anticipating something altogether less than ideal. Proton swallowed hard, his hands curling into tight fists around Petrel's lapels.

"Yeah, alright," he said, "I'll drive you. You know what you're going to tell him?" Proton didn't answer, and the laughter came again. "Well, I can't wait to see how this unfolds, then. You know? I could use some entertainment."

It really was a good question, Proton mused as Petrel later drove him out of the Rocket compound and down the east side of the mountains. Excused raced through his mind: he didn't have the documentation. He didn't have Silph nerds to pick the brains of. Programming was hard. The technology wasn't there. He replayed the day of his promotion over again in his mind. He replayed the day they caught Pirouz. No, Giovanni was not forgiving. Proton was healed and sober now, but that day he'd been running on fumes, and this was just another failure. Admitting to that would put a target on his back, and he knew already that Giovanni was angry at his refusal to let go of his paycheck. There had to be something he could say to buy himself some time. It was just a matter of what?

The pokeballs were a dead end right now, technology being what it was. Silph Co itself had even been rumored to be working on a perfect capture rate formula for years, and they had yet to announce anything regarding it whatsoever. So unless Proton could slip into Silph Co and go digging through their servers... A big company like that was bound to have a lot of intense security. Proton wasn't sure that was something he could crack on his own, and he equally wasn't sure any of the admins or even one of the Executives who could would know what to do when they got to the servers. There were a lot of unknowns about the situation, too, including whether or not the research was still just a freaking pipe dream on Silph's part. Amusingly, Proton felt like he had been far more in the loop when he was still living with his Ma in that shitty little camper van than he was now.

Pirouz.

The thought struck him suddenly and unbidden. Pirouz's pokeball, to be precise. The stressed chips. The hitmonlee. Before that, even. The larvitar. Cipher. And Ein. Now, there was an idea. Cipher had been pushing into Kanto since Proton had been a grunt fresh off the streets. He couldn't justify storming Silph Co, but he could certainly justify infiltrating a Cipher hangout. An outpost? No. Something bigger. More impressive. They would have the pokeballs at the outposts, but tech like this would need some serious equipment. A way to monitor the battery. The fusion cores weren't powerful enough to cause a black hole or anything universe-ending, but that didn't make pokeballs as safe as everything seemed to think they were. One little melt-down, and it could bring down an entire building. Yeah. Tech like that would be heavy-duty.

The thought was cut short as the car screeched to a stop in front of a PokeMart. They'd long entered Viridian, by now, but it was only then that Proton realized it, and he jumped in his seat as Petrel tapped his shoulder.

"Earth to Proton?" he was saying, "Coffee. Cigs. Let's go. And you know what? Get me a bento, too."

"What?" Proton replied absent-mindedly, "oh, uh... yeah. What kind?"

"Golden Crobat and nigiri, or something," Petrel answered. "I don't know, something easy I don't have to worry about spilling in the car. Hustle. I've got a headache."

"Hold ya fuckin' ponyta," Proton grumbled, "I'm going."

He was getting all of his goodies together to check out when a display on one of the endcaps caught his eye. They were phone charms, kind of cheap, but cute. Very cute. They were shaped like little pokemon with equally small bells attached, no bigger than a pea. Pikachu, vulpix, eevee, growlithe... and, most importantly, a beckoning meowth. After a careful moment of deliberation, Proton took one from the hook and added it to his pile. All that was left was to withdraw some cash and hit the register. He paused by the ATM in the back, sliding in his trainer card and tapping some buttons on the screen.

Gone. It was all gone.

He stood there for a long moment, simply staring at the zeroes on his account. There had to be something left. It's not like he went out on spending sprees. He'd been wearing the same jacket for three years. His shoes were cheap. He hadn't even gotten the chance to pay Petrel back for the pokeballs, yet. When did the rehab clinic take payment, again? He struggled to remember. He never paid much attention, and maybe, he considered, that was a mistake. Or maybe...

He quickly withdrew his card and canceled out of the ATM, then took his pokegear and texted Petrel. He was busy pretending to look at magazines when he came in.

"What's taking so long?" Petrel demanded.

"My account's seized," Proton answered, "or... or something. Can you spot me?"

Petrel rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket for his wallet. "I should have known," he bitched, "I'm not a bank. You're going to owe me."

"Isn't that Boss's money in the first place?"

"Shut up. What makes you think it's seized?"

Proton explained to him the suspicious zeroes in his bank account, and although Petrel still looked wholly unenthused, he nodded.

"We can get Archer to check when we get back," he sighed, "could be someone saw your face after Mouri. But still, you'll owe me." Proton thanked him politely as he paid, and soon enough they were back on the road.

While most pokemon gyms tended to be in the middle of their respective city's downtown, the Viridian Gym was uniquely far from the action. It stood, large and imposing, by its lonesome on the very outskirts of the city. Nearby was a small Pokemon Center, a smaller Mart, a fast food place, and a few small houses. The area was heavily wooded and right at the foothills of the Victory Mountains, where it thickened into true, vibrant forest. Proton was even certain he caught sight of a much larger, elegant house through the trees, but he didn't have time to look as Petrel pulled the car up into the gyms parking lot.

It was a very sturdy-looking building, built to withstand the tremendous power of the pokemon battles that occurred inside. Even Proton, who didn't follow the Pokemon League, knew Giovanni himself was hailed as the most powerful gym leader, if not the most powerful pokemon trainer in the KohJoh area. He was certain, in fact, that he could feel Giovanni's aura from here — the aura of a warrior. A general. Just looking at the building, just being nearby, put a powerful pressure on Proron's heart.

Is this what it felt like to stand before a legend?

"...So? Are you going in? Or are you just going to have a panic attack in my car?"

His head whipped around to Petrel, who was busy cracking open his box of Golden Crobat to light up. He took a good inhale of his cig then set about rolling down his window and opening his bento.

"I..." Proton looked back to the building. "Yeah. I'm going."

"Any day now."

He left the car and made his way into the Viridian Gym.

It was just as imposing on the inside as it was on the outside. Artfully made marble sculptures of various pokemon flanked the entry: rhydon, nidoking, nidoqueen, kengaskhan, dugtrio, persian. Giovanni's pokemon, he realized, each one exuding a regal, imposing nature. The hall led to the gym proper, a massive earthen battlefield flanked on each side by plush stadium seats. They were largely empty, save for the far end on the right side, where Proton could spy Giovanni's brat sitting with a sallow-faced teenager he assumed must have been a grunt. There were others milling about the gym floor, adults of varying ages, watching what Proton knew was undeniably the main attraction of the day.

Giovanni himself, dressed in one of his many suits, stood in the Gym Leader's box. His rhydon stood in front of him, its powerful horn whirring, mighty tail thrashing. They had no opponent; it was only the two of them, standing on the field. Even so, as Giovanni gave commands, the rhydon moved fluidly, perfectly in sync with its master's rhythm and cadence.

"Hammer down!" Giovanni called, and the rhydon swung its arm hard through the air and into the dirt, the resounding impact sending shock waves through the gym floor. Proton stumbled over them as he walked, even though he was making certain to move alongside the edge of the stadium seats, giving the arena itself a wide berth.

"Again!" The rhydon's other arm came swinging, slamming into the same spot as the first. Proton held to the railing as he walked, this time keeping his footing as the shock waves tumbled by..

"Hey, Boss," he tried to greet as he neared, but Giovanni didn't so much as glance over.

"Now, to the core! Earthquake!" The rhydon's horn whizzed and whirred, and it pulled its arms back only to slam them down once more into the battlefield, only to jam its horn into the ground afterwards. Suddenly the shock waves weren't just shock waves. Massive tremors ripped through the gym, and Proton watched for a brief moment as everyone scrambled to hold onto something. Proton, himself, clung tightly to the railing as he lost all footing, just barely holding himself up in the face of the attack. It felt like it went on forever, minutes, maybe even hours—but the earthquake subsided only seconds later as the rhydon pulled its horn from the ground.

"Deeper!" Giovanni cried, "Horn Drill! Rend the very Earth!"

Again, the rhydon pounded its fists to the ground and bellowed with such ferocity it would have sent any challenger running, and Proton clung to the railing for dear life, watching the ground split as tremors again rocked the gym stadium. Rhydon bellowed again as it horn slowed to a stop, its sides heaving as it panted from the stress of such an intense workout. The edge of the cracks crumbled and quickly collapsed on themselves, filling the cracks back up.

"Good! Very good! We've nearly got it!" Giovanni clapped his hands twice in the air, and the tired pokemon plopped on its butt to take a quick break. A few of the gym trainers whooped and cheered, and Proton thought he saw the corner's of Giovanni's mouth twitch upward, if only briefly. It disappeared the moment he turned to lock eyes with Proton, and again Proton felt his stomach lurch. Obeying the silent command, he began his approach, but was cut off by a small red blur streaking across the field, tackling into Giovanni's legs.

"Daaaaad!" Silver whined, "Can we get lunch now? I'm hungry."

"Dad's working, Silver," Giovanni replied sternly. Silver whined again and tugged at the hem of his shirt. Giovanni sighed and beckoned the sallow-faced teen over.

"Get him whatever he wants," he told the baby-sitter.

"I want McDonphan," Silver announced. Proton watched Giovanni roll his eyes and dig a set of keys out of his pocket.

"Not a scratch," he added as he handed them over with a few sizable bills, "and bring me the change. And while you're there..." He leaned in to speak briefly with the boy in undertones, and the baby-sitter nodded and nodded. Finally, he took Silver by the hand and dragged him to the exit, shooting Proton curious glances all the while. Proton wondered how often an Executive would come to the gym to bother Giovanni.

"Now," Giovanni said, "to what do I owe the visit?"

"Oh," Proton said, "uh, just running some papers for Archer..." He dug in his bag to produce the folder, which Giovanni snapped up and immediately began to leaf through. "...And Petrel and I stopped at a Mart on our way in, I thought I'd pick some stuff up for you, too." He produced the canned coffee and the meowth phone charm. Giovanni eyed them strangely, but took them nonetheless. He made his way to the stadium seats to rest, plopping into one much the same way his rhydon had plopped to the floor. Then, he neatly crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and leaned back, cracking open the coffee to take a long sip. Proton followed, waiting anxiously in front of him.

"I'm not sure whether to thank you or to advise you choose your next words very carefully," he said plainly, "I'm not an idiot, after all. I know when someone's sucking up to me."

"Yes, Sir," Proton agreed. It wasn't worth the games, he decided. "I hoped you would be... lenient with me."

"Mm." Giovanni raised an eyebrow as he considered him. "What did you screw up, then?"

Proton shifted on the spot, leaning from one foot to the other before he finally stood up straight, only to bow deeply and apologetically. Perhaps it would even be enough. "It's the pokeball project, Sir," he admitted. When he glanced up through his bangs, Giovanni seemed... not much different then he had earlier. He hastened to finish speaking. "I've missed the deadline you set for me. I have no proof of concept. The math... it just ain't workin'. The technology ain't there." Giovanni made him wait, bowed and writhing in his own nerves. He took a long sip of his coffee, leafed deliberately through the papers Archer had sent.

"I'll admit, I'm disappointed," he finally said. "I had much higher hopes for you, Proton, and yet you seem to let me down at every turn. Tell me, how long has it been since your promotion?" Proton swallowed hard, thinking.

"Long enough for me to know better." He glanced up again to see Giovanni's lips once more twitching upward, and his shoulders dropped as the tension began to ease away. Yes. That had been the right answer. The Boss, certainly, was in a good mood. "I was arrogant to think I could work it out before Silph's entire development team could. I'm not... stoppin', per say. But requesting to put it on the back burner while I shift focus to something a li'l bit more attainable."

"And what would that be?"

"Cipher's pokeballs."

Giovanni shook his head and rubbed his temples, heaving a great sigh. "I told you. Cipher's a non-started. I want them left alone. They'll cannibalize themselves without our help, and we have more important matters to attend to."

"Sir, I..."

"Are you arguing with me, Executive?"

Proton bowed deeper.

"No, Sir. Course not, Sir."

"Rest, assured, I'll find some use for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to my training." Proton righted himself and stepped aside as Giovanni took to his feet and returned to the gym leader's box. His rhydon was busy drinking from a fountain to the side of the field, and he clapped his hands again. The rhydon looked over at him and lumbered back to its position. "You'll want to hurry up. Get out while you still have your footing. Careful, now."

"Yes, Sir," Proton said again, "thank you, Sir." He turned and headed back for the exit, thanking Lugia and Ho-Oh in his head that everything seemed to go more or less alright. Certainly, Giovanni seemed displeased, but all in all, he felt like he'd gotten off pretty alright. Still had his fingernails, his teeth, his knees, hell, even his life. It was a good day.

As he was passing by the end of the field, he heard a massive thwak, then a crack, a whirring, and the Earth shook. It wasn't just tremors. Wasn't just shock waves. Wasn't just one crack. The ground quaked violently, cracks grew, fissures formed. Proton stumbled over his feet and fell onto his side, arms flailing and fingers scrabbling for anything, anything to hold onto. A fissure opened beneath him and he felt one leg slip, then the other, then his whole body. He dug his elbows into the edge, holding himself close and tight to the cracks as he felt the earth shift and press in around him. He tried to find purchase with his feet, but his boots scraped helplessly against the side of the rock and earth, and somewhere in the middle of it all, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his ankle as his foot twisted harshly.

Just like that, it was over.

Mind reeling and heart pounding, Proton gasped for breath, wildly scrambling to crawl out of the small fissure and throwing himself onto solid ground. When he finally pushed himself up to his palms, his eyes shot back into the gym. Giovanni was smiling at him from the gym leader's box.

"Whoops," the boss said simply, "I told you to be careful. We don't want another accident, do we?"

Proton picked himself up and quickly limped out of the gym on his twisted ankle, hardly noticing where he was going. He was probably only ten paces out into the parking lot when a car horn blared and something smacked straight into him. He swore and cursed on the tarmac, again pushing himself up to his palms. He could feel sand and grit digging into the scraped and raw skin, but nothing felt broken. Sore. But functional.

"Holy shit! I... I'm sorry! Executive, I'm so sorry!" Dazed, Proton looked up into the blinding sun, blinking to make out the face of the sallow-faced teenager. Giovanni's car was still idling, and he could hear Silver's distressed cries from inside.

"What the-" Proton hissed as he struggled to push himself up, "what the actual- what the fuck-"

"I'm so, so, so, so sorry, I didn't see you, I just-"

Proton let out a bellow of his own, lunging at the grunt and tackling him to the ground. His fingers wrapped tightly around his neck, squeezing, wringing, crushing. No intelligible thought escaped him, not a curse or swear, only growls and grunts and notes of hatred and rage. Someone grabbed him by the hood of his jacket and yanked him back, and the grunt gasped and coughed and clutched his bruised throat as he tried to pull himself back towards the safety of the car.

"Chill the fuck out!" Petrel snapped, yanking Proton back once more as he growled and lunged again, "holy shit! Pull yourself together, dumbass, you're causing a scene!" He yanked again on Proton's hood, choking him for just a second, and Proton breathed deeply when he could, his rage beginning to die down. As his head began to clear and his eyes focused, he saw the boy climb shakily back into the driver's seat of the car and quickly pull the door shut, locking it his shaky hands.

"Fuck!" Proton shouted. He yanked himself from Petrel's grip and limped to the El Dorado, slipping inside, as well. Petrel followed soon after him.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, and Proton shook his head, leaning to tuck it between his knees as he grabbed at his hair. He started when he felt a hand on his back, head snapping around. It was Petrel. Petrel was... rubbing his back? That was probably the most shocking thing to happen that day. The thought was so surreal and utterly bizarre, and it was Proton's turn to shock himself as laughter bubbled up.

"What the hell was that?" he repeated, voice high and strained, "what the hell is this? Fuck you doin' that for?" Petrel frowned, delicately slipping his hand back as he settled in the driver's seat.

"You're freaking out. I... wanted to calm you down. Is it not working?"

"Fuck, I... I don't... know, I..." Proton took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm worn out. Can we go? Please?"

Petrel's answer was to start the car, throw it into gear, and begin the long drive back. Proton leaned the seat back and rested, taking deep breaths and trying to keep his focus away from what had happened at the gym. Yes. Everything was fine. Everything was okay. No more accidents. Just... the two. The car had been an accident. And Giovanni had only meant to startle him. He was fine. Proton was fine. He was starting to doze off as they ascended the mountain, but it was Petrel who broke the silence and pulled him back to the waking world.

"So it didn't go so well, I'm guessing," he mused, and Proton shook his head. Petrel glanced over, lips pursed. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Fuck, I dunno," Proton huffed. He pressed his cheek to the window, idly watching plants speed by. "I tried to offer him a second project, but..."

"He didn't bite. I get it. Sometimes he doesn't see the use in things that might otherwise be useful. So? The plan?"

"I don't know. He won't bite on Cipher, but that's all I fuckin' got. And I barely got their tech to begin with, just a couple burnt out pokeballs."

"Hmm..." The car slowed. Petrel pulled to a stop on the narrow, almost non-existent shoulder. Proton suddenly had a vision of Petrel whipping out a pistol and lodging one right between his eyes, or maybe tying him up and then throwing him off the side of the mountain. There were worse ways to die, he supposed. He was too tired to resist, now, so they might as well get it over with. "So all you need is access to Cipher's pokeballs."

"Yeah, but good fuckin' luck." Proton shrugged and explained, in detail, the work the security division had been undertaking. So far, all of the remaining security staff had been green-lit, and so had most of the admins and grunts in administration. The more days passed, the more it seemed like there really weren't any Cipher moles rooting around, and if there were, they were smart enough to fly under the radar while security did their work. Petrel took his time to think all of this through, then finally, he nodded.

"Alright," he decided, "that settles it. You and me, we're gonna take a little vacation."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Proton demanded. Petrel flashed him a grin - wide, handsome, dangerous, and altogether charming. His usual cold, distant eyes were alight with excitement and anticipation.

"Get your passport and pack your bags, bitch. We're going to Orre."