Breccia was expelled from the infirmary the next morning. Having little appetite earlier, she tried to ignore the gurgling in her gut as she struggled down the steps into Aurora.
The island was nothing more than a frigid, tiny ball of ice. (Much like the rest of Birtan). Aside from the Wingulls floating on the frozen sea breeze, the place was rather quiet. Most of the minuscule population belonged to the Organization. Those that weren't ran the local shops, which consisted of a small grocery and a ramshackle diner. The 'roads' were trodden paths of dirt with very few sidewalks to be seen.
Walking past a couple grunts patrolling near the infirmary, Breccia tugged her collar around her throat.
"Look who's up and running." Morice was outside in wait, holding a small bag at his side.
"More like limping." Breccia accepted the package when offered. "What's this?"
"They found some of your things in the wreckage. Thought I'd swing them by."
Of the meager belongings Breccia brought along, a few shirts and a water damaged notebook remained. She figured it was better than nothing.
Morice took her on a small tour of the island, showing her the shops and the apartment complex many of the grunts called home. By the end of it, Breccia's lungs were sore and her legs numb. Morice must've noticed because they took a detour to the local pub shortly after.
If Breccia had her way, she'd be at Nessa's place. She'd be in bed with the world shut from view.
Instead, she let Morice drag her to the bar and regretted it immediately when she was met by a room full of drunks.
With all that had occurred in the short two months since her release from the penitentiary, she felt worn and weary. There wasn't enough liquor in the tiny, one roomed shack to give her the relaxation she needed.
She's like to say her stint behind bars gave her perspective, but it did little to calm her. For her entire sentence, all she did was think of her father. She did right in keeping her head down while serving her time. The place was minimum security, so the guards did little to quell any fights that broke out. Her days were typically spent in the library, where she could be safe and out of the way.
After eight weeks she was a free woman. They set her loose with a handful of belongings and a felony to besmirch her name. Because her record was tarnished, no one would hire her and if it hadn't been for Nessa catching wind and putting in a good word for her, there was no telling where she'd be.
"So, where are you staying?" Morice pulled the chair out for her after picking a rickety table in the corner. The place was in shambles with mismatched stools, and a tattered rug across the splintered floor. The bartender was an old crotechty fellow with an eyepatch and hook hand.
The yellow, cracking walls were decorated with ropes, hooks and other faded posters and there were only a few beers on draft. If it wasn't for the body heat given by the crowed, the place would've been bitter cold as well.
"Vanessa and Caleb-" Breccia caught herself. "Vanessa's."
Morice shook his head, asking for his usual when the barbtender's Gallade came around to take their order. "From what I've heard, Nessa is inland. Birtan City. She had too many breaks and bumps for the nurse here to deal with."
Not much of a drinker, Breccia ordered the same as her friend, lacing her fingers on the table top. She didn't say anything in response, allowing Morice to continue speaking.
"She slipped a disk in her back, messed up her neck." Morice took a large drink from his beer when it arrived. "She'll be lucky if she ever walks again."
When her drink arrived, Breccia took a sniff of it and cringed, crinkling her nose. Holding her breath, she took a gulp. Morice was buying, the least she could do is finish it. "What about Lars?"
"What about him?" Morice snapped. "It was his stupid contraption that got us into this mess to begin with." His glass already half empty, he called over the crowed and blaring noise for another.
Despite Lars' cold reception of her, Breccia defended him...partially. "Last I checked, Caleb was on board with it too."
"Yeah well..." Morice inhaled, his breath sharp and quick. "Look, I never liked Lars okay? I've been going on research trips with him for the last year and the whiny little runt is insufferable. All he does is complain about how he should be calling shots at the Lab because he's been with the Organization longer."
Breccia wondered if this meant she'd be taking orders from Lars once she settled into her duties.
She hoped not.
As her mind wondered, she took note when the loud, ear numbing chatter dulled to a quiet murmur as the front door opened.
Morice put a stay on his unrelenting rage towards Lars, darting his vision from Breccia to the newest patron that came in.
From were she sat, Breccia's view was obscured by the standing bodies of others. All she could see was the stranger from the neck up. Judging by the obvious red of his roots, his hair was dyed. He was unremarkable otherwise.
She was more focused on the body guards standing around him. The two human's were similar in build, both muscular with one sporting a long, puckered scar running the full length of his left cheek.
The final guard wasn't a person at all. It was a Blaziken and it stood taller than any other Breccia had ever seen. From a distance, she guessed the creature to be female due to her head crest being smaller. Her fur was a deep, blood red. Though, what stood out were her almond shaped eyes, both a pungent gold hue. She was both beautiful and terrifying.
"Must've been a rough day if he's here." Morice stopped, letting his glass tease his lips. "I don't blame him."
"Who?" Breccia was impressed how the very presence of this man was enough to silence even the rowdiest of patrons.
"That's Riker." Morice appeared put off that his friend didn't recognize him. "He's an Executive. He runs the operations on this frozen hellhole." He murmured at a near whisper. "You would've been a grunt in Kanto if it wasn't for him. He lobbied pretty hard for you."
"How do you know all this?" Feeling a light buzz, Breccia allowed her muscles to fall lax. "You have an ear to the wall or something?"
"Nessa wouldn't shut up about you. If she could've, she'd have told the entire island." Leaning in, Morice lowered his voice further. "Lemme give you some advice. You do what Riker tells you, when he tells you. He's in good with the Boss. You don't wanna piss him off."
"Piss who off?" Riker appeared at their table, his guards in tow. Both Breccia and Morice jumped in their seats.
"Nothing sir." Morice said. "Just taking the new girl out for a drink. Trying to get her use to the town."
"She didn't have the best introduction." Riker studied Breccia for a second before speaking once more. "Relax soldier." He said to Morice. "If you strain yourself anymore, Cliff will have a mess to clean up." The Bartender perked up upon hearing his name. Riker looked to him over his shoulder. "I'll have the usual." After which he addressed his guards. "You're free to wander. Don't leave the premises." The two humans were more than happy to escape for a drink. His Blaziken, however, was not taken to the idea. She scanned the two bodies at the table, finally setting her eyes on Breccia. Riker attempted once more to grant her leave, but she responded with a quick stream of air expelled through her beak. It came out as a tuft of hot, searing smoke.
Finally managing to polish off her first beer, Breccia was trying her damndest to be inconspicuous as Riker removed his jacket. "Sorry we have to meet on such strange terms." He said. "The nurse said you were released and I was headed to Vanessa Carter's apartment to speak with you. Lucky for me, I stopped off here first."
"It's-" Breccia swallowed to try and alleviate the strange aftertaste on her tongue. "No problem sir."
"Yes, well, while I have you, I'd like to change our meeting to earlier in the day. Around nine tomorrow. I have plans I can't change."
Breccia nodded once more. "Yes sir."
"Good." Waving his Pokemon to follow him, Riker gave both of them a quick goodbye before vanishing into the crowd.
"You handled that better than I thought." Morice gave a snarky compliment.
"You made it sound like he could shoot lasers from his eyes." Breccia received an unstable laugh.
"I figured Nessa would've told you." Cliff's Galade was making a second round past their table. Morice ordered another round for himself, taking a moment to peer over the bar where Riker stood. "It's one of those things everyone knows but doesn't really talk about." He slid his glass in closer when it arrived. "The Boss treats him no differently. He gets bitched at like the rest of us."
Breccia caught the Blaziken's eye once more and broke contact. "Considering his entourage, I'm guessing he and the Boss are close?"
"Try related." Morice said finally. "His Grandson."