Chapter 8

A couple of hours later, Visora removed her shoes wearily and threw them with conviction in a random direction. The shoe hit something and bounced away as her exhausted feet cried in release.

Flopping back onto the straw-strewn ground, she rolled her eyes up into their sockets and groaned. A few seconds later, Elva came bouncing over to her, with considerably less gusto than normal. "Hey, Vi…" she said, dropping down next to her sister and stretching out like a sunbathing cat. "Nice place, isn't it?"

Visora thought that, yes, this was indeed a rather nice area, for being roughly a hole with a cloth at the entrance. However, hell if she was going to compliment the place that they had spent two and a half hours reaching on foot through brambles and weeds that grew increasingly thick the further they got into the woods. It was a quaint little place, with straw mats strewn haphazardly all across the floor, papers stacked neatly in a pile to the left, and a small bundle of clothing wrapped in a blue cloth to the left. It was well hidden, too—something Visora had realized when she was yanked roughly away from the edge of the abyss by Gav, after failing to see the unsettled dip of netting and leaves that was the roof of their structure underfoot.

All in all, the day wasn't exactly going the way she'd planned.

Their two guides returned through the cloth flap, dropping down into the flat. "Hey, all," Ciara said amiably, tossing her black slippers much the way Visora had.

Gav kept his boots on, and secured the netting in place again. Elva grinned at both of them. "Heya!" she said.

Awkward silence reigned for what felt like an eternity. Ciara brushed her brownish-red hair off her shoulder. Gaveriel coughed. Elva shuffled her feet and fidgeted. Visora glared at all of them.

"So, thank you for freeing us from your traps and taking us to your… place," Visora said, deliberately pausing on the word and gauging their reactions. Just as she expected, Ciara lifted her head as if looking for challenge in her eyes, and Gaveriel regarded her evenly. "But maybe it would be good if we could find out exactly where Lavender Town is in relation to where we are. That's where we're headed."

Gav was on his feet. "Lavender's a long way from here," he said, walking over to where Visora sat and pulling up a spot of turf beside her. For a moment, she didn't know what he was doing—and then he began to draw a diagram in the dirt with a stick. He made a crude "x" for where they were, then drew what appeared to be a rocky path up a mountain, on the other side of which he sketched out an "L"—for Lavender Town, she could only assume. "If I were you, I'd go back the way you came and take the more routine path."

Defiance flared up in Visora's throat. "And why exactly should we do that?" she said, very carefully regulating her tone to be firm but not sassy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ciara fidgeting, waiting with bated breath for Visora to say something just a little bit confrontational—probably waiting for an opportunity to get into the fight. The auburn-eyed girl looked like the type to do just that.

"Well," Gav started, and Visora knew he was going to fall into her conversational trap. "I don't want you two to try to rough it down that path—it's—" dangerous was the word on his tongue, and yet he paused, as if sensing the ground he was treading. "It's a long way, and you'd probably do better to save yourselves some time."

Visora was impressed. She was the master of passive-aggressive verbal attacks, the Goddess of mind games and manipulation. And yet Gav had just avoided making himself sound like a pig-headed chauvinist who believed girls couldn't do anything, instead making it seem as if he were merely looking out for the best interest of their schedule.

Elva gave Visora a sly glance, grinning behind her hands. If anything, Visora knew her sister understood the way she worked—and wasn't used to seeing her get "gonged" as she so childishly put it.

Visora crossed her arms and said, "Well, actually, we're out here for some Pokemon experience…" she drawled, letting the sentence fall off casually before continuing. "You don't suppose you could show us where the really strong ones are?"

Gav smiled amiably. "Sorry to tell you, but TR's scared off most of the ones that used to live around this area—" he motioned with one well-muscled arm around the flat, even though Visora knew he meant the forest outside it. "All around Saffron's become somewhat of a dead-zone for wild Pokemon recently."

Visora couldn't help a mild snort. "You aren't trying to tell me the Silph Co. fiasco is back in action…?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Ciara chose that moment to speak up. "Actually, yeah. You see, Gav and I make it our business to know the inner workings of TR, and we're almost certain that they—"

"Hey, hey, whoa," Gav cut in, lifting his darkly-tanned hands at his sister. "I thought you were just ragging on me for saying too much?"

Ciara gave him a blank stare. "I thought we established that these two weren't with the Rockets."

The boy smiled. "What if they catch them and tie them up and torture them for information? You have to be paranoid, sis."

"Gaveriel, you can be so impossible."

Visora's reddish-brown eyebrows shot into her hairline. Gaveriel? Well, that was certainly unexpected. Gaveriel sounded like the kind of name you'd give a pet poodle, or a little girl with blond hair—not a name for someone as earthy and calm as this guy.

Gav—or Gaveriel—looked mildly embarrassed. He appeared to shake it off, though, and turned to Elva and Visora again. "So, do you want us to show you the way out of the forest?"

Visora stood up and crossed her arms, back into full-swing conversational shark attack. "I don't think so. We can handle ourselves, thank you."

Gaveriel looked uncertain. "Well, I don't want you guys trying to figure out how to get through here on your own. It's a real hard path—even I get lost sometimes, and Ci and I have been here for a few months now."

Visora was mildly impressed. Truly roughing it in the woods, she thought. How ruggedly charming. She had to admit, for two nut balls, these two were mildly interesting. Deciding to start up a conversation as they began to walk outside on an unspoken command, she said, "So, what exactly do you guys have against Team Rocket? I promise I won't spill the beans if they catch me," she added, catching Ciara's sidelong glare at Gaveriel.

Gaveriel looked back at her over his shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face. "Even if they make you watch Richard Simmons?"

Visora shuddered. "Even if they do something that diabolical, the secret's safe."

Elva had been remarkably quiet this whole time, but appeared no longer able to keep quiet. "What do you guys do? It sounds like some kind of ultra-top secret spy stuff."

Ciara laughed full-heartedly, and Gaveriel chuckled low in his throat. "Well, we just don't like the way the Rockets are allowed complete reign over basically anything," he began, holding the flap of the flat open so that Visora and Elva could climb out. "They've given us trouble in the past. And the stuff we do is actually mostly infiltration and spying—espionage stuff, like you said." Elva looked pleased and terribly interested.

Ciara was speaking up now, and Gaveriel seemed finished with his part of the explaining. "First, we keep our ears peeled for any strange happenings in the news," she said, kicking a large and imposing-looking rock out of the way. "Then, we figure out if the Rockets are involved—"

"And how often is that?" Visora couldn't help interjecting sarcastically.

Ciara shot her a look. "Actually, quite often."

Elva grabbed hold of Visora's arm below the elbow, as if to say, don't piss these people off! I want to hear the rest of the story.

Grudgingly, Visora resolved to keep her comments to herself.

"Anyway," Ciara was continuing, already warped up in her retellings. "Then we plot the place where they seem to be meeting most often—it's remarkably easy, actually, they're awfully obvious about it most of the time, it's a miracle nobody else seems to notice—or maybe they're just afraid of bringing them to the police, beats me, I mean, it's their civic duty after all, but then again, the police are kinda useless lately, so I can understand—"

"Tangent," Gaveriel commented kindly.

"Oh, sorry," Ciara said, clearing her throat. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah," she paused to duck under what would have been a lethal branch that Gaveriel was holding back for them. "Well, after we find their meeting place, we infiltrate. Now, that's the hard part, cause even though the Rockets are notoriously stupid—well, most of them, anyway—they're really, really hopped up on security if it's a big enough heist. So, we usually have to break in and hide out and snap our pictures in poor lighting. Sometimes, if we're lucky, we get to rent a video camera and get some crappy footage of them talking to each other about the cash they earned and the rare Pokemon they plan on stealing. If we can't do either one, we get voice recordings, but those kinda suck too, because the police would probably think we just made it as a joke, or something."

"Aww, that bites! Just cause you're kids no one would listen to you?" Elva asked, genuinely remorseful about the run of bad-luck their strange captors-turned-tour-guides would encounter.

"Yeah, pretty much." Ciara seemed to be winded from explaining all of that, and fell silent.

Visora decided it was safe to speak up. "So, let me get this straight—" Gaveriel began climbing straight up a rock wall then, and she paused. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Climbing up the hill," he said, turning back and hanging off the ledge with one hand to look down at her. "It's the only way through here."

Visora was incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me… oh, okay, fine. Bump over," she said, pushing her jangling hoop bracelets up onto her upper arms so they wouldn't be in the way of her hands.

Gaveriel looked uncertain again. "You sure you're gonna be okay doing this?"

There it was. "Just because I'm a girl you think I can't do this?"

"Oh, come off it," Ciara grumbled from below. "Gaveriel's no sexist—I'd kick his sorry ass if he was. He just doesn't want you to fall off and break your pretty little head open." The way Ciara said it seemed friendly, but there was an undertone of warning: Don't talk to my brother like that.

Visora admired her slightly for refusing to take her verbal bashings, and decided to cut back. Not responding, she proceeded to scramble up the wall, using Gaveriel's footholds and stepping where he stepped precisely. She could hear Elva following suit below her, and finally Ciara. They climbed that way in silence, but even though Visora was becoming increasingly aware of the height, she refused to forget her question. She held fast to it in her head, determined to ask it once they were on level ground again.

Eventually they had climbed up and over the rock wall and come to a rather nice-looking patch of grass. Relieved, Visora made a move to sit down—

Only to be caught halfway down by Gaveriel's arms and pulled back to her feet. Appalled and confused, she pulled away from him—and saw the nest of Weedles peering obtrusively out from a patch of underbrush. Embarrassed, she muttered a hushed, "Thanks," before launching haphazardly into her question from earlier to cover up her fumble. "So, you guys infiltrate dangerous criminal's hideouts instead of reporting their activities directly to the police?"

Gaveriel looked as if he didn't know where this was going. "Yeah," he said. "But you make it sound as if we have a choice on the matter. TR is quite savvy with their information—they'd know the second we reported them, and would clear out of there faster than you can say 'rare candy,'" he ran a hand through his tousled jet-black hair. "They'd call us lying little brats and send us away, and then our record would be marked and they'd never believe us again."

Visora was astounded. "That's pretty presumptuous, don't you think?"

Gaveriel only smiled. "You can never assume too much with Team Rocket."

Visora wasn't sure why, but she lost the will to continue picking apart their logic from that smile alone. She couldn't place it—and she almost thought it might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn she saw a flash of bone-deep, world-shaking sorrow in his chocolaty-brown eyes… if even for a second. However, it was gone the moment she blinked, leaving her feeling suddenly foolish.

"Well, I'm not tired," Elva piped up from behind her. "Should we continue? Is it very far from here? I'll bet we're almost there, aren't we?"

"It's about another two hour's walk," Ciara said. "Not so bad."

Visora only groaned.