Chapter Four: Intelligence & Infiltration
I awoke the next morning to a soft grumble vibrating the sand below me. Blinking in the dim light of my disguised pup-tent, I softly shushed Iron Maiden, who had been keeping watch for me. I'd seen to it the big Steel-type had burrowed down into the sand until only her eye ridges appeared above the surface of the dune the night before, then used the loose soil she stirred up to disguise my own resting place, piling it up until, from a distance at least, it would appear to be just a part of the landscape. Thus, when I reached out and twitched aside the entry flaps, I still had the high ground for a good view of the big dune my Marking Map had led us to.
The Cacnea and Cacturne were still there, so it seemed I hadn't slept through my only chance at seeing where the entrance was. I didn't see what it was that had caught Maiden's attention, however. Aside from being better lit, and a few of the Grass-type guards having moved in the night, everything looked identical to me. But of course, I can't sense faint vibrations in the ground like she can.
A door opened in the side of the dune as I watched. It wasn't fancy, just a sheet of steel opening upward, sand apparently adhered to it completely. Rills of sand trickled down from above and to the side, disturbed by the motion, but I could tell that when it was closed back up there would be no notable differences. Several men and women emerged, carrying folding chairs, a patio table with a folded umbrella, and a cooler of drinks. Another brought out a rack of Pokéballs not unlike the ones I had seen in the lab back at Eterna Forest.
I saw them returning Cacturne and Cacnea to Dusk Balls by the bunch out of the corner of my eye. Most of my attention was focused on the woman walking through the doorway and settling into a chair under the umbrella, which had since been opened for shade. After all these years, she was still wearing her Rocket uniform, beret, mini-skirt and all. Even in the heat the morning sun had already begun to kick up, she was wearing the all black sweater. Arabella Ragnos, loyal to her team to the end and most of a decade beyond.
Rage hit me at the sight of her, rage that I had never felt looking over photos or reading files. Here was one of my enemies, in the flesh. I had started scooting forward when my PokéGear vibrated in my pocket. I almost ignored it, but decided to let them finish setting up for whatever they were doing instead. They were active at that moment, after all, I'd let them get bored and complacent before moving on down the hill. I'd be less likely to eat a long-range blast of venom or bile that way.
"Not a great time, Looker," I said into the receiver, keeping my voice down and thanking my lucky stars that I'd remembered to set the thing to silent the night before. I didn't hide the irritation in my voice.
"Can't be helped, one of my bosses wanted to know where you are," the international cop replied, sounding a bit annoyed himself. "When I told him I didn't know, he made me pull up your location using the GPS locator in your PokéGear." His voice had taken on an apologetic tone at that point. Looker doesn't like invasions of privacy any more than I do.
"He did what?" I snarled quietly. "I'm out here helping do his job, and he's tracking me like a common criminal?" I fought to keep my voice in a low growl as opposed to the angry shouts I wanted to loose. Maiden, hearing me, grumbled as well. I modulated my voice to keep her from bursting out of the sand and giving us away. "Give me one good reason why I should put up with-" I started to demand, but Looker cut me off.
"The area we found you in is currently off limits to the public, by order of the Frontier Brains down at the Battle Frontier. Y'know, the ones who own that island? They put the order down a month ago, how the hell did you get in there?" he asked, a note of placation in his voice, rubbing shoulders with authority telling me he didn't like me snarling about his orders even if they were wrong.
"I walked," I said, keeping my eyes on Arabella and her people as they moved about below. Something was odd, they were dividing up Pokéballs between them, sorting them in some way. "It was the middle of the night, if anyone was supposed to stop me they didn't see me."
"That sounds like you, even if they'd stopped you it wouldn't have stopped you would it? I'm supposed to order you out of that area at once, a dozen trainers have disappeared in that desert on their way up to Stark Mountain. They found two of their corpses, burns and battering injuries. The top brass there in Sinnoh is concerned that maybe Heatran woke up again," he said, a definite edge to the words. Legendary Pokémon don't show up near civilization often. When they do, shit tends to hit the fan hard.
"Well, I don't know about Heatran. I'd figure they got too close to Arabella's little project. I'm here for a reason, Looker, I'm not leaving. You can't order me to do anything. If you're gonna cut my pay for this disobedience go right ahead, you know I'm not chasing the bitch for the money," I told him, more patient now. At least they were trying to help, though tracking me remotely like that was still beyond annoying. "Anyway, before you say anything else get a load of this," I told him, describing what I was seeing right after.
While we'd been talking, the group below had drawn a ring in the sand, well over fifty feet across. I'd seen sporting rings that were smaller. As I watched, Arabella was sipping a drink of some sort and waving for one of her subordinates to throw a ball into the ring. When it opened, expelling its occupant, a Charmeleon was suddenly standing in the center of the ring. It was healthy, but its chest and thighs were covered in criss-crossing scars. Its tail-flame was burning hot and vibrant, smoke leaking from its nostrils in heavy streams. When it looked at Arabella, it let out a shriek of anger, digging at the sand with its talons, body heat surging enough to fuse the sand below its feet into glass. It clearly hated her, and just as clearly could not attack. It was held under the influence of its Pokéball, something only a very few mons can break free of even briefly.
With another signal, Arabella told her flunkies what to do next. Which turned out to be throwing balls into the ring one after another. They burst, here dispelling a Poochyena, there letting out a Vespiqueen. One that landed behind the Charmeleon unloaded a Tangela, yet another popped out an Abamasnow. Before a few heartbeats had passed, the one Fire-type was facing fifteen enemies. It had type advantage over most, sometimes a double type advantage such as the Abamasnow, but was horribly outnumbered when Arabella, laughing coldly, ordered them all to attack at once.
It was, in a word, brutal. There were no restrictions, no advice called out, nothing but Pokémon attacking as a wave. I could see why the Charmeleon had so many scars now. It turned, sending a burst of fire that appeared to be an Ember at the Tangela. Before it could line up to attack again, the Poochyena had bitten into the base of its tail and planted its feet, snarling and shaking its head viciously. The Abamasnow surged over its burning partner, rearing back its arm to slam down on the foe with Wood Hammer. Vine Whip lashed against the poor Fire-type from the side as a Bellsprout struck, both attacks drawing blood despite the type disadvantage. With so many foes, it seemed impossible for the Charmeleon to overcome such odds.
It didn't surprise me when the powerful starter proved that sort of thinking wrong. I raised a Fire-type starter myself, after all. It managed to use the impact of Wood Hammer to turn back on its own tail, slashing into the Poochyena with Metal Claw. With a whimpering scream of sudden pain, the Poochyena dropped in place, a puddle of its own blood already soaking into the sand. Continuing the turn, the Charmeleon swung its tail flame in a wide circle around its body, sending a ring of spinning flames to catch up around the Abamasnow. Trapped inside, the beast could only cry out in pain as the Fire Spin slowly chewed into its wooden limbs, melted its icy coating, and tortured it. The Charmeleon, meanwhile, viciously tore into the Bellsprout, ripping the little beast entirely in two with Fire Fang, leaving it smoldering on the ground.
The attacking force didn't give up, and scored many more attacks. The Abamasnow eventually escaped, but weak as it was it knocked itself out with its own Wood Hammer, then died as it was caught in a violent Flame Thrower the angry lizard was spewing at a Weepinbell that had tried to hide behind its icy partner. Bleeding and staggering, the Fire-type's Blaze had kicked in, its tail burning like a tiny star as it tore into the attacking force. Before long, the entire force was dead, burning or bleeding on the sand.
And that bitch Arabella was applauding with a smirk on her face. I told Looker I'd call him back later and hung up before he could complain. Arabella was speaking to her aides, and I wanted to hear her if possible.
"It isn't done yet. Heal it enough to survive another round and send out another wave of assailants. I want completion on this subject within the hour, Patricia. How are the gatherers doing at finding us more specimens for the training phase?" she ordered and demanded, with a tone of authority I'd not have believed of the woman I remembered from my childhood. Arabella had gotten used to command it seemed.
"Yes ma'am, we'll begin getting another round going," answered a mousy blonde in a lab coat, worn over a Rocket uniform just like Arabella's. Old coworkers, perhaps. "The team we sent out to find more Grass and Ice-types is in the forest near Snowpoint now. I've put down reminders to punish their leader when he returns, apparently the delay was caused when he stopped in Eterna Forest to evolve his Eevee into a Leafeon, the putz. They'll be back with another load of subjects by nightfall, however, so it shouldn't impact the project appreciably."
"Good, good. Well, heal the damn brute and let's get on with it," Arabella said, waving her hand in another signal. Soon enough more balls flew, and the poor Charmeleon started the whole battle again as a Sneasel latched onto its back with hook-like claws and started slashing repeatedly.
The second fight took longer. Blood ran freely into the sand, a haze of smoke hung over the scene, and cries of rage and pain seemed to echo long after the voices of the combatants fell silent. I was sickened by the spectacle of it. I'm no stranger to blood and death in battle, but the whole ordeal had been so unnecessary. The Charmeleon screamed. My gorge rise. I longed to charge down the hill, my voice joining that of my Pokémon in announcing my rage. And I would have, if only I hadn't been stuck in a tiny pup-tent. In the time it took me to extricate myself from the confines and get going, I'd be spotted. So I waited, as the poor Charmeloen's tail-flame burned lower and lower... then suddenly bloomed into a raging miniature inferno as Blaze activated again It was injured enough to call out additional power now, and the Sneasel learned it when it was suddenly burned to ashes by an extra strength Flame Wheel. The second round didn't last long after that, and left another layer of carnage slewed across the formerly pristine sand.
With a final, weary growl, the Charmeleon pitched forward into the sand with a thud. It was writhing, growing. Its head-crest split into two horn-like protrusions. Its skin lightened to a firey orange. Wings erupted from the beast's back. Where once a Charmeleon had rested, there was now a Charizard. So that's what they were doing, forcing the Pokémon to evolve rapidly through constant, abusive battle.
"Very good. Patricia, return this one to its ball and prepare the next subject. The rest of you scan the assailants on the ground. If any of them are still alive, even barely, they're strong enough for the project. We've got to have big prizes if we want people to come into that dumpy little property we've been stuck with," Arabella ordered, and people practically jumped to obey. Most of the bodies were loaded up and taken away, probably to be used as food for the survivors considering how cold blooded these people were. A few were given potions and burn heals, though they were left weak and docile from the beating they'd taken. One by one the survivors were taken off the battlefield, clearing the way for still more of this brutal "training" to take place.
Before the next round could begin, however, the muted call of a Gloom began repeatedly sounding. I looked around, confused. Not only were Gloom non-native to the desert, but it was so muffled I couldn't even begin to trace the location. It became clear when Arabella pulled a small PokeGear from her hip pocket. She always did have a fondness for Gloom, apparently she used its cry as a ring tone.
"Yes boss? I'm in the middle of preparations for the... yes sir. No sir, we received the shipment earlier today," she stood and began pacing as she spoke. Despite the distance, I could see that she looked worried. "I don't know sir, he's never been careless with the Pokemon on loan to the lab before. Maybe he just got complacent, he had been down there for a long time. And the fool was constantly slacking off to go chase ghosts or some damn thing," she seemed to calm down visibly. I hated only hearing half the conversation. I was willing to bet the voice in her ear was the Cipher agent who'd made the top of my hit list so long ago. Not many others would command that kind of respect out of a criminal as hardened as Arabella. "Right away boss. Tell the girls down at my "side-business" to treat you to a good time on the house tonight, on my orders. Yes, I thought that'd cheer you back up a bit," she smirked. It would have been a rather attractive look on any other woman. The cold, haughty amusement on her face ruined the effect far more effectively than the old scar that marred her face. A moment later she hung up and pocketed her PokéGear, turning to face a crew of nervous looking assistants. Only the one they called Patricia met her eyes.
"Don't tell me the deadline is getting pushed up again?" She walked up to stand at Arabella's side, perhaps a half-step behind her. I noted she walked smoothly, and something about her posture made me think she could handle herself in a fight with or without Pokémon. Mousy looking she might be, but that might just be camouflage.
"No, we're actually cancelling the rest of today's exercise. We've got to find a replacement for that idiot we left in charge of the lab in the Old Chateau. Seems he got himself killed by the Pokémon. Get the collection team on the line too, tell them to divert their efforts to replacing the Nectarz and electricity production specimens. The whole lot of them escaped the lab after they took out... what was his name?" She was already striding forward, back toward the compound. "Forget it, his name hardly matters now." Patricia followed her, waving impatiently at the other servants who immediately set to clearing up the table and chairs. One of them sent out an Onix, forcing it to eat its way through the sand. In mere moments, the blood soaked dirt was pristine once more, and the whole crew had disappeared into the compound.
I gave them a slow count of ten before I crawled out of my tent, stretching with a wince. I can't say laying in that position, constantly tense, was any good for my back. I recalled Maiden into her ball, briefly managing to amuse myself as a Steelix shaped dent suddenly appeared in the sand as it fell into the space she'd once occupied. Then I set my feet and started sliding quickly down the hill.
I scanned the area thoroughly as I approached the area I'd seen the door open from. It seemed unlikely that the area was truly unguarded. Nothing happened, however. Perhaps they'd forgotten their security measures as they hauled ass to obey their superiors. Once I reached the dune concealing the doorway, I paused to take stock, slipping Lucky's ball from my pocket and letting him out.
"Look through this dune for me big guy. Is there a room behind it?" The feline's eyes lit up, briefly, then he looked up at me and pawed at the ground twice. He may not have the power of speech on his side, but only fools will tell you Luxray can't communicate just fine. "No? Is it an elevator, or stairs?" He huffed at me in annoyance, refusing to answer. "Fine fine, only yes or no questions. Is it stairs?" That seemed more likely than an elevator, these people seemed to be on a rather tight budget. This time the big cat only pawed once, digging a shallow scoop of sand up. "Stairs it is," I grinned wickedly. "Is it guarded?"
It took twenty minutes of searching to find the mechanism to open the door. Fortunately, I happened upon a smaller door just as I was preparing to open it up and storm the gate. That would make a somewhat stealthier infiltration possible. Lucky was unable to count, so while I knew there were guards on the other side I had no clue how many. That meant being ready to hit them hard and fast as soon as I came through. So, I threw the door open, thankful that it opened inward, and stepped through in a hurry, Lucky and Spitpyre both right behind me.
In fact, I stepped through a bit too fast. The door frame wasn't as tall as I'd thought, and I managed to whack the top of my head pretty hard on it in my haste. Despite my order for silence, I thought I heard Spitpyre hiss out a quite laugh as he ducked his way through behind me. Though that might have just been the head trauma talking. Fortunately for yours truly, I've spent a lot of time being forced to operate despite blows to the head. It comes with the territory when you train under Maylene. So despite the flock of Pidgeys circling my head, I was still able to count four guards, all wearing Team Galactic grunt uniforms. They were squatting in a loose semi-circle in the center of the room. As I scanned them, a set of dice fell from the lone female's hand.
What we did next was hardly fair. Anything even vaguely like it would get you thrown out of a sanctioned match. Pokémon battles are noisy by definition. If you want to enter pretty much any location the sneaky way, they need to be avoided. We avoided it by taking the guards out before they could throw a single ball. Or call for help.
Spitpyre was on my right, and thus immediately struck at the burly man directly in front of him. Before we came in, I'd issued orders to use whatever force was necessary to take whoever we met on the other side of the door silently. Spitpyre took that as permission to cut loose, beginning the fight by using Slash. Blaziken talons are sharp enough to slice down trees, so when he struck his foe across the chest there was only a soft "thunk" of impact before he fell gurgling to the floor. With his lung shredded, he wouldn't be doing anything but dying.
Lucky sprang forward, perhaps a half second slower than his partner. He locked his fangs on the thigh of the thinner man to my left. Electricity surged through his locked teeth, though only a soft crackle betrayed his use of the attack. His victim immediately locked into a rigid stance, every muscle in his body tensing from the current. I knew the look in his eyes, he'd been paralyzed. Normally that would be non-fatal, but with his femoral artery gushing his inability to move would quickly spell his doom.
That left the two in the middle, an older man with whispy white hair and the slightly plump woman. She was opening her mouth, drawing breath to call for help. Or, considering how wide her eyes had gone, very likely to scream for help. The old man was reacting more calmly, snatching at a Pokéball on his belt. Spitpyre's rush had carried him past his target and nearly to the far wall. Despite the somewhat cramped space, he wouldn't reach them in time to stop them. Lucky, meanwhile, must have hit bone when he bit down. He seemed to be having trouble releasing his grip, and as his target finally collapsed once the current stopped flowing, wrenching his head to the side.
Had I been closer, I might have tried to knock them out barehanded. Maybe. But I doubt it. I'm not a very nice guy sometimes, and after what I'd seen these people do outside I can't honestly say I didn't want to hurt them. The point is moot, however, as they were out of my barehanded reach anyway. So when I drew my katana and slashed them across the throat, cutting off any chance of a scream, I could rest assured my statement to Maylene that I would never use my sword without need was mostly met. They staggered back, falling against each other as they tried to hold their own blood in. To say they met with limited success would be an understatement. I just barely managed to catch the old man's Pokéball as it rolled out of his hand, preventing it from releasing. Spitpyre then stepped in and caught them both in his talons. He finished them quickly, even remembering to press them against the wall to muffle the sharp crack as their necks broke, then lowered them to the floor.
I listened intently, waiting to see if we'd drawn any notice. No sign we'd been detected, so far so good. I signaled my Pokémon, and began padding down the stairs, sticking close to the wall. The stairs were steep, just barely shy of being a ladder. Spitpyre's feathers stood on end in silent testament to his irritation at having to balance his weight on such narrow stairs. On the upside, at least his claws weren't tapping on each of the metal steps.
After a surprisingly long climb, we reached the bottom. While the stairwell had been rather dim, here the area was almost painfully bright. Naked fluorescent lights appeared on the ceiling every five feet or so. The walls and floor were both of pale concrete. The combination was not in any way pleasant, especially after the tap on the head I'd inadvertently given myself. I pressed tightly against the corner and eased out until I could peer around, unable to ask Lucky for help for fear of drawing attention. Thankfully no one was in sight. The only downside I can see to my sword is that the dark coloration of the steel makes it less than useful as a mirror for these situations, no matter how well polished it is at the time. The stairs let out on a long, curving hallway, roughly matching the diameter of the sand dune above. Several doors dotted the outer wall. They appeared to be marked, but I couldn't read the plaques from where I stood. "Only one way to find out," I thought to myself, and signaling my companions to stay close, I set out to find out what exactly I was stepping in.