This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera.
[11-1] From Out of Nowhere
Never before had he so much trouble writing a thesis.
A draft spread over his lap whispered for his cooperation, but he solemnly couldn't provide it, for he had nothing but paltry claims and even more desperate words. Paragraphs of nothing stretched into a complex network, linking dead ends with other broken paths. There was little he could do with his current insight but scramble with a bare outline.
He lamented how niche his field had become—his branch of research had long since fallen out of favor as Ikaika Kukui's empirical studies in battle performance and Samuel Oak's visions into codependent sociology of humans and Pokémon had drawn the world's brightest minds like a flock following the leader in flight. Why, they asked, should they need to chase myths when there were easy answers to be found in fields already cracked open?
So many would abate risk and abandon challenging pursuits to feed their personal legacies. The literature itself was the legacy, and if his contributions amounted to naught but sparse footnotes in a flood of names and claims, his life would be wasted. He sought solutions to problems proposed hundreds, even thousands of years ago, ones that could fundamentally reshape human society! He had the opportunity to change the world's predicted future, and that was the truest prize of all.
Especially, as he learned in the most fateful months of his life, that such a prize was finally possible.
"Dr. Cassius?" called the driver in perfect, if sterile, Sinnohan.
He gasped, and his glasses slipped off onto his draft. So absorbed in thought, it startled him, and he quickly reseated the frames on the bridge of his nose. "Hmm, yes?"
A tinted shield separated her from the passenger section of the limousine, but her voice carried through a small rectangular slot. "We'll be arriving soon. Be sure to gather your belongings. I don't believe he would enjoy you dirtying a company vehicle."
"Yes, yes, I don't think he would," he said, and began stacking his things. He lingered on the opening line of the document, which prayed at the heels of the creation deities of Sinnoh. "I didn't wish to impose myself, but I wasn't expecting my schedule to be pushed forward."
The perfect leather felt uncomfortable beneath his fingertips, and he wished the countryside vista wasn't muddled so by the tinted windows. Darkened earth rose from the grass, free from snow due to the geothermal heat. It wasn't summery, surely, but he much preferred it over the mainland's pure frigidness. What he didn't care for was the name—the Battle Zone. The Pokémon League deeming it so to advertise their Trainer-scouting facilities, but he much preferred its ancestral moniker. Krigsland. The Land of War.
An island offshore northeastern Sinnoh, it was the place of the final battle between the Kingdom of Sinnoh and the invading Kingdom of Kalos. Most of their home had been consumed, and their forces decimated day after month after year, until nothing but the Krigsland and royal fortress on Lily of the Valley remained. The Sinnohan army's final gambit, to lure the main Kalosian forces to the island and then blockade the channel to cut off supply lines, resulted in their own massacre. Clever military strategy couldn't counterbalance Sinnoh's poor numbers, but a sudden volcanic eruption from Stark Mountain swallowed most of Kalos's vanguard, including their leading general.
Myth maintained it as divine intervention. In those days, his countrymen were far more pious, and rested their safety in the power of the deities they worshipped. Their prayers to Heatran, god of the mountain, had been answered. They welcomed the awesome might of Legendary Pokémon and were so fervently rewarded.
It was a nice story, and one he had shared passion for with Cynthia Masuta. Like many of their joint projects, he supplemented her mythological expertise on Heatran with his own wealth of literature in Legendary Pokémon theology. The previous summer, in advance of an upcoming journal deadline, she invited him to hole up in her personal lodge, where they tore through the hours to fill the final, grueling pages of their study.
His eyelids quivered when he thought about those days. That was before she drifted from him, before she turned her back. Those were some of the happiest days of his life.
The limousine cruised to a silent halt. Dr. Cassius, having gathered all his things, let himself out of the vehicle, not expecting her to play valet. He finally saw the outside in its true color, where the eerie shaded grasses caressed his legs and the volcanic rocks absorbed all light. The driver's side window rolled down behind him, leaving only a crack with which she regarded him.
"Your appointment has already been arranged. It's not wise for me to stick around, so I'll be back when you're finished," she said.
Dr. Cassius bowed to her feverishly. "Of course. I don't wish to keep you."
The gap closed, and the vehicle left him abandoned in Sinnoh's farthest reaches. It was nothing but a quaint little town at the base of the mountain, sparse, white-framed homes nestled between the exotic trees. He skirted past a Pokémon Center on the thin road, smaller than the homes, unmarred not by constant upkeep, but instead, he suspected, from disuse.
A towering stone fence broke through the trees and cast that hour's shadow over him. Its surface was mostly empty, aside from the central door that floated still atop the stone ocean, and the bolded Unovan text above it.
SINNOH REGIONAL CORRECTIONAL COMPLEX.
The stationed prison guard, a woman in a uniform so stiff it must have been purchased the day prior, regarded him. The Poké Balls at her side were a peculiar color—solidly black, with only a single official sigil atop their domes, signifying that they contained additional biometric security. "State your business."
"I've come for visitation," said Dr. Cassius. He fumbled for his identification. "I have an appointment."
She tore it from his fingers, and took ever so long to glance over it, occasionally flicking her eyes up to compare. She turned around and punched something into the keypad by the door, then whispered his name into a speaker above.
"Who are you visiting?" the officer asked, holding his ID just far enough away that he couldn't take it back. She was merely stalling for time while the request was processed.
He wasn't sure why his hands were shaking, but he held them together over his stomach. A tired smile gripped him, subtle enough that his lips stayed pursed. "It's… in the appointment. Just an old friend. I probably should have come months ago."
By all means, he wished that they were closer. He had let leagues of opportunities pass him by, and no matter how many chances he had to gather the courage and open a connection, it ultimately led nowhere. Not when he was sentenced a year and a half ago did Dr. Cassius reach out a caring hand.
The guard must have sensed this regret on him, as she stepped aside even before the confirmation relayed through the speaker. She swiped a card and the door swung upon, and she bid him a nice visit as he stepped inside the walled grounds.
It was paradise.
More than a beautiful campus, it was an elysium of natural harmony, where Pachirisu danced atop the sagging branches on which Silcoon and Cascoon were suspended. The Hoothoot and Murkrow sang in duets below and competition above. It was a display of beauty he'd never seen outside of protected parks. Unlike those, however, the Pokémon were not barred from human contact, and Dr. Cassius felt his eyes rotate in his head while he walked to keep his attention on one man singing as a man with a Psyduck-shaped watering can and a Buizel misted a trimmed berry garden. A woman on a bench nearby gently tested chords on an acoustic guitar and offered him a greeting as he passed.
He could recall no comparative experience. This beauty gilded a morbid reality of who these people may have been. There were undoubtedly white-collar criminals among them, those whose only mistake was questioning the arbitrary morality of law, but there were others society might deem irredeemable. He, for one, withheld his judgement, but reminded himself that pleasant company wasn't his objective.
The walkway forked through the grass. To the left loomed a modern, square building, most likely the main complex of the prison. However, another officer had taken place behind him, and tugged his arm to the right. "This way to the visitation house, sir."
"Y-yes," he complied, desperate not to step out of line in this place. No matter how beautiful it was, those walls still rose high to prevent any connection to the outside world. There were minds trapped here that he wished could be free and he wanted to maintain his own freedom at all costs.
She led Dr. Cassius to a quaint little cottage in the contained woods, which was particularly dusty when he stepped inside. It had only three rooms, including a small kitchenette, but no bathroom or bedroom. A wooden chair groaned beneath him when he sat, and the officer told him to wait patiently.
From within his bundle of papers he found a newspaper, which, normal as it had become, was plastered with tragedies. Violent crimes and were no longer banner headlines, delegated to smaller fonts at the edges. He lingered on a story about an eighteen-year-old Trainer who lost his Pokémon alongside a small forest fire just a few days ago. It hurt his chest to read such horror, but he thought it healthy to spare each a few strained heartbeats. It was the least he could offer them.
None of it was unexpected. From the moment the Champion seat was announced to remain vacant, Sinnoh's future was set in stone. Dr. Cassius wondered how many people understood that certainty.
The door creaked. A pair of feet stumbled. It took an unusual length of time for the person to struggle through the halls, and Dr. Cassius found his fingers twitching. He had little idea what to say, especially meeting in a place like this. If only he had introduced himself earlier. If only he had done so many things leading up to this moment.
One stout, Sinnohan man crashed through the doorway, a Chatot singing atop his balding head of mauve and a western Shellos glued to his left arm. He threw himself in the chair without grace and adjusted his tinted spectacles to stare at Dr. Cassius. The Chatot maintained its song even as it was jostled by the rough landing.
After a narrow-eyed pause, the man frowned. "Who is this? Why am I wasting my time here, officer?"
"This is Dr. Albert Cassius," the woman said. "He's a colleague of yours."
"Colleague?" He snorted through his nose, and the Chatot mimicked the sound at a higher pitch. "I stopped having those when I realized none of them understood my genius."
"Dr. Orcus, remember what we were working on. Your friend came to visit you, so how should you return the gesture?" she asked.
"Ahem, I'm enthralled by your research papers on Pokémon as drivers of technological progress," Dr. Cassius added quickly. "They're a major inspiration for my own work."
The man eyed him all over, judged his words and his intentions while sparing a sideways glance at the accompanying officer. Something shifted in his eyes and his grin twisted to playful with only a slight shift of his muscles. The woman didn't appear to notice a difference, but Dr. Cassius certainly could.
Dr. Orcus leaned forward and pushed his small, red-lensed spectacles up to his eyes. "Oh, yes! Cassius, I've been looking forward to your visit for a long time. Really, I've been getting lonely here, why hadn't you stopped by sooner?"
Dr. Cassius winced. It was as if he tried to play up his delivery as much as possible, and the secondhand embarrassment burned further when the Chatot echoed his sentences with a few missing words. He was offered a hand and shook it firmly, trying to ignore the clammy, unnaturally smooth texture of his skin.
"Lisbeth, would you kindly offer my old friend and I some privacy? I'm allowed that, aren't I?" Dr. Orcus asked.
"Under the circumstances, I believe that's acceptable," she said. "I'll be stationed outside, so just holler if you need anything."
When she left, the cottage fell quiet, as even the Chatot offered them peace when Dr. Orcus fed it something from his pocket to cease its singing. He leaned back in his chair, spread his legs slightly, and titled his head down. His smile had dissolved into the targeted observations of a scientist.
"Tell me your game," he said. "I only have eight minutes until my book club."
Dr. Cassius let his eyes wander about the room, finding corners and crevices and gaps between the wool sofas and the kitchen furnishings. They were all suspiciously void of activity.
"This building has no cameras, if you're looking for them. No inmate had tried anything in years, so they cut it from the budget. Trimming the fat, you understand," said Dr. Orcus.
"And the officer outside?" he asked.
"As long as you keep your voice low, she isn't one to think anything of it. She's my contact officer. We have a working relationship."
He was in good graces with the prison staff and was anticipating a scheduled meeting with other inmates. The year and a half reflected on his posture, which was free of tension or sweat. Dr. Cassius had heard of the conditions in this place. Its goal was to maintain a semblance of normalcy, where inmates accessed their own private spaces, cooked and cleaned and relaxed in open commons, and lived in harmony with the on-site Pokémon, like a symbiotic exchange.
"Are you…" Dr. Cassius considered his next words. "Are you comfortable here, Doctor?"
The Shellos on his arm hadn't moved since he entered, but Dr. Orcus offered it a treat of its own as a complement to its company. He paid Dr. Cassius no apparent mind, like he was simply whispering to an empty chair. "Comfort is a scam."
"Pardon me?" said Dr. Cassius.
"Three wonderful meals a day, nice walks outside, friendly Pokémon, all for free. I'm sure it does wonders on all the others, but I'm the only one genius enough not to be bought by it."
He wasn't certain he followed the doctor's logic, but he gathered his hands on the papers in his lap and let him speak at his own pace. Dr. Orcus paused on occasion, in no hurry despite his earlier indication otherwise.
"Everyone living here has crossed the Pokémon League in some way," he said. "Perhaps treating us well is humane, but it's nothing but a tool. Every meal we eat, every luxury we're gifted, and every day we spend happy is paid for by the League. The League is good. The League is kind. The League loves us. Do you see my point?"
As prisoners, their options were to rot forever or to accept the implicit propaganda. Even if they despised the highest authority with every thought, once they lowered their guard, that tumor might subconsciously take root.
Dr. Cassius, for one, had no special opinion on the Pokémon League. He considered it a necessary component to pursue his research, as it owned and processed almost all major journals in Pokémon study. While it was a bureaucratic annoyance, it wasn't the primary opponent to his theories—the general scientific community was. He understood, however, that those censured and beaten by its might would consider that cancerous belief the greatest defeat of all.
"Do you intend to fight back?" His question urged another snort from the good doctor.
"I pretend that I've learned something. I can act nice, just like I did with all my 'colleagues'. And when I'm finally free, they will be none the wiser."
"If I said I could grant you your second chance today, what would you do with it?" The words had ripped themself from Dr. Cassius's throat, and he found himself trembling everywhere except his feet that were firmly planted on the ground. He wasn't prepared to say it, but it was ready to be said.
"No one makes a deal without expecting a reward," said Dr. Orcus, clearly thinking it an empty question. "What do you want from me?"
This deal was already arranged, he was simply the messenger. He shouldn't be so nervous, but Dr. Cassius found he had to grind his throat to keep it contained, whispering in fear of the guard outside. "I'm not interested in you. I'm interested in Galactic Admin Pluto."
Dr. Orcus's eyes snapped to him, and he adjusted his glasses on his nose. Pluto stared back from behind them. His mouth, pursed together, shifted with his jaw.
"Who, pray tell, is setting this up?" he asked.
Dr. Cassius titled his head.
"Obviously, not you. I've never heard of you, so you probably don't have money."
"Horribly uncalled for." He cursed that he'd been seen through so easily. "A benefactor suggested that I seek you out."
"Because they know the others in prison are fake?"
Dr. Cassius nodded calmly, seeing no reason to deny that claim. According to said benefactor, the League tried unrelated criminals as "Mars", "Jupiter", and "Saturn", as those names' real holders were never apprehended. Their leader, on the other hand, was declared dead.
"You must have friends in high places," chided Pluto. "What else have they told you?"
"I was told there remain Galactic Company facilities that evaded the International Police's crackdown last year. You created resources of particular interest to me."
Pluto raised a knowing eyebrow. "A single resource now. One was destroyed."
"As well," Dr. Cassius continued, "I was told you would be best suited for a leadership role. We have been amassing manpower for you to command."
Suddenly, the man threw his head back—forcing the Chatot to take flight, and disappear, screeching, into another room—and took in a massive yawn. It was as if he sucked all the oxygen from the room, leaving Dr. Cassius gasping for his own breaths. "And why, Doctor Albert Cassius, should I agree to any of this? I already said that I won't be bought."
"Your release has already been arranged," he said.
Pluto searched the small contents of the house with a puzzled gaze and seemed on the verge of calling his contact officer to confirm this claim. "You've fulfilled your end of the bargain in advance? Why shouldn't I just walk out that door and never speak to you again?"
"I wasn't lying earlier."
Pluto grunted. "I didn't assume you were."
"I've read all of your papers. Every single one."
This gave him pause. His deadpan shifted ever slightly, even as he still refused to budge. His lips drooped, his shoulders hunched, both nigh imperceptible. "So did many. That didn't stop my research from crashing and burning."
"I empathize with you, Dr. Orcus." He guarded his heart from artifice and spoke the most genuine words he could, fully understanding the pain of being no one. "After all, if you haven't heard of me, my theories must not mean much. But it's people like you, those that seek the answers none believe in, that tell me my work isn't in vain."
Dr. Cassius searched back through his mind, to a time when Rotom was once considered a Mythical Pokémon—it would have been the first proven to exist. That classification had lasted barely a few months, but in that time, he had devoured every accessible piece of literature on the creature in an attempt to reinforce his own theories.
Pluto's writings on Rotom painted a utopian picture, one where the creature could power human cities, direct their computers, and advance understanding between humans and Pokémon until the line between had all but vanished. Others saw a jaded, feeble man who turned to organized crime simply because pleasant company didn't entertain his ideas, but he saw someone deeply invested in the future.
The career Dr. Cassius dedicated to Legendary Pokémon sought similar aims. Their might could be creative just as it might be destructive. It could drive humanity forward even if the writings of old suggested apocalypses that set it back. If Legendary Pokémon were real, they were an untapped reservoir of sociocultural evolution, and his benefactor had granted him one additional treasure of fact about them.
Legendary Pokémon were real, and they were waiting to be understood.
A set of disastrous floods in Hoenn four years prior were no mere coincidence of weather. The Blue Orb, now under possession of the Pokémon League for its role in that catastrophe, had summoned a primordial force few in history had ever witnessed. They had covered it up, just as she had buried the summoning atop Spear Pillar. She didn't want him to know.
"It's our duty, no matter the resistance, to create the future. Your work taught me that. I hope you understand that is the absolute truth."
The man was already on the verge of breaking, but with his final words, Pluto's rebellion was beaten. A sad smile crossed his face and he leveled across the table.
"What job did you have for me?" he asked.
Dr. Cassius smiled.
By the time he had returned to the edge of the grounds, all his affairs in order, the limousine was waiting impatiently for him outside the main gate. He gifted the guard with a parting handshake and then let himself into the backseat, making no additional room for a guest. His benefactor had made clear that Dr. Orcus would be handled once his assistance was secured.
The slot in the cabin shield opened. The driver said, "I expect it went well."
"It was refreshing, actually," said Dr. Cassius. "All this subterfuge leaves a poor taste. But for once, I didn't even need to lie."
"You won't be needing to lie much longer, Doctor. Shall we move on?" she asked.
He nodded, and the vehicle hummed alive. She adjusted the mirror, and before she shut the tiny gap between them, he caught a short glimpse of her sharp eyes and violet hair.
For those accustomed to the English names for characters, Pluto is Charon. There's not really an easy way to address that in-universe, but I went with his Japanese name. I think the original intention was to play into the relatively public demotion of Pluto to dwarf planet to portray him as lower rank than the other admins, and it also allowed me to parallel the Orcus planetoid that has very similar characteristics to Pluto. I know I've pretty consistently stuck with English-language names otherwise, so I hope it's not too confusing.
Next time is Part 2, Chasing the Story. See you someday!