Tracing Origins
A/N: I believe I owe everyone an apology for keeping you waiting for so long. I have just started a new job that takes a lot of time and energy. Thanks, as always, for the kind words and encouragement to continue. I didn't want to write any half-assed chapters since I'm a firm believer over quality over quantity. Hopefully, the longer chapter will make up for the wait. Enjoy!
Chapter Five: The Deepening Plot
Chateau d' Cateline was a privately owned villa set in the heart of a lush northern Kanto mountain valley. It was owned by a prominent family, passed down from fathers to sons and mothers to daughters for generations. This had been true for centuries, and as things were, there were no immediate plans to deviate from tradition. As it stood now, the family's founder and namesake Lady Cateline of Florencia would have been proud to see what her heir had turned their humble family fortune into.
But of the means, Lady Cateline? Giovanni thought whimsically as he gazed upon the portrait of his ancestor. The painting overhung the grand staircase that led up to the balcony overlooking his vineyard. It portrayed a portly woman garbed in a magenta Victorian-styled dress of ruffles and lace. She had been young at the painting's advent, but the stern expression that was portrayed had frozen in time a paragon of rigid, cold dignity that became what was expected of her heirs.
"Did you know," Giovanni mused softly to his companion, gently swirling the warm, aromatic coffee in the mug captured between his fingers, "that my great ancestor—Lady Cateline's husband—was a police officer?"
"Purrr?" Persian hummed dubiously, cocking his head to regard Giovanni.
"It's true," Giovanni went on with some amusement himself. "He was Monsieur Francois de Béhaine. He was a constable in his home town. Lady Cateline and he met by chance when she passed through his town on a trip. As the story goes, they were well suited from the moment their eyes met. Both academics and lovers of poetry. Oh, and strong believers in the legal system. Imagine that. Such a waste."
"Purrr-sian," the beige cat-like Pokemon snorted and began licking at a paw.
Giovanni smirked and absently ran his fingers through the coarse fur on Perisan's head with his free hand as his eyes drifted past Lady Cateline's portrait and to the massive window. It overlooked the vast acres of land that the estate rested upon. The sun was rising, so the sky was awash in soft hues of pale blue and gold as night retreated behind the hills. If that was not enough to signify the coming of morning, the throaty crowing of a wild Combusken somewhere outside did the trick.
"Come along, Persian. We…" Giovanni trailed off, his eyes narrowing in annoyance when he heard the soft but unmistakable sound of feet shuffling against the carpet behind them. Without turning, he demanded sharply, "What is it?"
Sandford, the estate's head butler and main caretaker while Giovanni was not present, was well-versed in averting his eyes whenever in the Master's presence. He bowed his head, his voice low and submissive as he reported, "Forgive me, Master Giovanni. You have a phone call."
This made Giovanni turn a fraction, a skeptical frown tightening his cold features. "A call? At this hour? Who is it?"
The butler answered meekly, "It is Lady Eloise, Sir."
The face reflecting back on Giovanni from the window hardened. His lips pressed themselves into a thin, displeased line. His subordinates knew better than to disturb his leisure time, and they rarely did so since the consequences were not great. Unless…it was an emergency, that is.
"Take this," Giovanni curtly said, shoving the mug into Sandford's hands. Without waiting for a reply, he pivoted on his heels and climbed the stairs to his right, heading towards his private study.
He let Persian in after him and made sure to hear the click of the heavy polished mahogany door closing before striding up to his desk. Being wealthy and the head of a crime syndicate had its perks, one of them being easy access to the latest technology (the means of acquiring said technology another story). As soon as Giovanni was within a few steps from his desk, the sensors of his video-phone flickered and the screen came to life with a small icon of a phone, signifying an incoming call on hold.
"On screen," He intoned in his deep voice, sinking into the plush leather chair behind his desk.
Unlike other, cheaper, video-phones, this one did not merely display the face of the other speaker. Instead, the screen glowed a soft blue for a second and then thousands of small beams shot outward, merging together into a perfect holographic representation of a beautiful violet-eyed, violet-haired woman.
"Eloise," Giovanni acknowledged, tone low and forcibly steady.
There might have been a flicker of fear at his tone, but Giovanni had to admit that Eloise hid it well. She was not like most of his peons. Then again, most of his grunts were not eloquent, well-spoken women like this unique number staring back at him with equal parts of composure and confidence. He had always found her cool intelligence and icy demeanor fascinating but dangerous.
"Sir Giovanni. Pardon the interruption, but," Eloise' smooth brows furrowed, "there has been an incident at the Valte facility."
Giovanni's eyes drilled into her image as he crisply ordered, "Tell me."
Eloise complied. By the time she was finished, Gionvanni's light-hearted mood had soured considerably. His fist slammed down on the desk, sending a pen skittering off the edge. Persian darted away to avoid the falling projectile, mewling protest.
"Intruders? How did this happen!?" the Team Rocket boss roared.
"We're not sure, Sir. One was posing as one of our members. We're not sure when she slipped in. But the other one is the one you might find interesting." Eloise did her usual, annoying bit of pausing, as if to add to the dramatic effect to whatever it was that she'd say next. She smirked, her strange amethyst colored eyes glowing with glee, "It is Steven Stone, the heir of Devon Corp."
This was enough to stun Giovanni out of his bad mood. Almost. "You're certain?"
"Positive," she replied without any doubt.
Gionvanni's mind quickly calculated all the avenues that he could take with the fortune that fate had just deposited into his hands. How delightfully unexpected. While it was true that he had not dabbled much in Hoenn, he had kept careful tabs on important events and people in the region lest there come a day when he decided to expand the Team Rocket empire past Kanto's borders. Among this prominent list was the influential Stone family of Devon Corp.
A smile slowly lit Giovanni's face. "Very interesting, indeed."
"I knew you'd think so, Sir," purred Eloise, smiling. She went on, "Course of action?"
There was only one Giovanni could think of. "Capture him. We certainly cannot have such an esteemed guest roaming the island unattended, now can we?"
"His father will be most appreciative when he hears of our hospitality, I'm sure," she smoothly replied, then sobered. "And the other one?"
"Find out what she knows and dispose of her. I will bet anything that she is one of those troublesome meddlers. It is time we send them a message about what happens when you mess in Team Rocket affairs," Giovanni said, his voice brittle with contempt.
Eloise nodded her head sharply, "As you wish, Sir Giovanni."
The sound of someone clearing their throat made her turn her head to look at something Giovanni could not see. Eloise turned away for a moment and then, much to Giovanni's surprise, her image was replaced by that of a thin, reedy man that also worked for him. Giovanni's eyebrow quirked upward inquisitively.
"Good morning, Sir Giovanni. Forgive me for intruding, but I have a simple request that you may find...beneficial for the progression of Project Invincible."
Giovanni laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the surface of his desk, eyes boring into those of the brilliant man now speaking to him. "Go on. I'm listening."
The gears in Thorne's head were already turning as he launched himself up the next flight of stairs, taking them two or three at a time in his bid to get to the Director's office. If the mission on Valte Island had been compromised, then that would mean that their agent was either dead or captured, neither of which was acceptable. He hoped that it was not the case; he'd already ordered for agents to focus their efforts on getting any sort of visuals on the island so that they may find the status of their agent.
Behind him, he heard the disgraceful panting and gasping for air of the junior agent that had brought the distressing discovery to Thorne's attention. The young man had made a good catch, but if his wheezing was any indication, the lad could certainly use more time in the gym. His Growlithe was in fine form, but the agent was in pitiful shape.
"Sir…no…disrespect…but…why…why," Kendall gasped, stumbling blindly after Thorne, "why are we taking the stairs??"
"Too many people using the elevators," Thorne crisply replied as he took the next flight. He worked out for two solid hours every single day so this was nothing to him. Hearing Kendall, a fully trained agent barely into his twenties, huffing and heaving like a Wheezing reinforced his firm belief that they did not have a strenuous enough physical fitness requirement that befitted their line of work. He would have to talk to the Director about the matter the next time that he had a chance.
"Sir," Kendall asked in a strained, breathless voice. "What…what does this…mean? Is this…is this…the same mission involving that…that lab outside of Johto?"
"Yes," Thorne grimly confirmed. "Unfortunately."
The Director's office sat at the opposite end of the hallway that they emerged from. Few people ventured up this far, and when most did it was upon the request of the Director…normally not a good thing. Thorne grimaced. Like coming to him with bad news is better.
Julia, the Director's secretary, glanced up in surprise when she heard the sound of the glass doors swishing open to allow Thorne and Kendall access. Thorne wasted no breath on greetings, "Julia, is he in? We must speak to him. Now."
"Yes, but—"
That was all Thorne needed to hear. He was moving towards the door before Julia could even finish speaking. As Kendall stammered apologies and Julia railed that they couldn't just barge in, Thorne was mentally preparing himself for this meeting, ignoring them both. His mind was already thinking ahead, trying to lay out their options since months of work to take down a treacherous operation was now in jeopardy.
"Seraph, we have a problem," Thorne announced without preamble even as he threw open the door and strode in.
Julia squeezed in after him along side Kendall, looking very annoyed, "I'm sorry, Sir. They," she glared at Thorne icily, "insisted on seeing you."
"It's all right, Julia. They can stay," said the man identified as Seraph, holding up a hand to wave them in. He was a dark-haired man with coal dark eyes and the build of any business man though mere 'business' was definitely not his job. He was sitting behind his desk flipping through a book of some sort, which he quickly flipped shut and tucked away before they could get close enough to see what it was. It was just one of the many secrets that the man held, hidden behind his pleasant demeanor and disarming smile.
Even Thorne, who'd been Seraph's loyal right hand for years, could not read the handsome, impeccably groomed man the way he could others. Despite Seraph's shady nature, the man had been their leader in the war on crime and evil, and there was no one more qualified to fill the role. Seraph had the loyalty of their entire organization as well as that of those who looked to them to bring justice for a reason.
The moment Julia slipped out, Seraph's intensely dark gaze flickered between the two agents, "Gentlemen?"
Thorne wasted no more time. He walked up to Seraph's massive glass-top desk and held out the printout Kendall had brought him. "Seraph, we lost contact with Agent Natios an hour ago and have not been able to reestablish contact."
Seraph frowned, taking the paper, his keen eyes scanning the words as Thorne went on grimly, "The mission might have been compromised."
"You've ordered for someone to find out if our agent is alive?" Seraph asked.
Thorne nodded, "Yes, Sir."
"So," Kendall bravely spoke up, looking between Thorne and Seraph. "What can we do? Can't we send back up or something? We can't just let one of our own stay in a place full of Rockets!"
Seraph looked at him seriously, "You're right about that. But as of right now, we are not even sure if Agent Natios is alive. You are positive that there was no transmission before the signal was lost? Audio? Pictures? Anything?"
"I—I—" Kendall stuttered, shaking his head incredulously.
Thorne was disgusted with how undisciplined these younger agents were. Had the little fool even thought to check before he came running up to Thorne? Before he could demand as much, Seraph's calm yet authoritative voice continued, "Also, it will be helpful to know Agent Natio's movements before we lost the signal."
When Kendall didn't appear to comprehend exactly what was being said, Thorne cut in gruffly, "Well? Go check! Hurry! Every second you're standing here might mean a second Agent Natios doesn't have! Go!"
He was gratified to see the junior agent scramble off in much faster time than it had taken him to get up the stairs, the poor Growlithe right on his heels. Thorne looked at Seraph, who looked back at him with a very grave expression. "The moment Giovanni hears of this, he will undoubtedly begin to relocate his operations."
Thorne sighed. They'd lost the most important advantage that they'd had in their arsenal: surprise.
"Move it—Fuck!"
The wall of trees behind them exploded. Steven felt a searing wave of heat before he was thrown forward, his feet flying out from underneath him. He landed face down on the hard earth. Small rocks and leaves dug into his cheek. A guttural cry of pain involuntarily bubbled from his lips as a fresh explosion of pain radiated from the gaping side wound.
He was only vaguely aware through the mind-numbing pain of the woman's cursing as she scrambled to her feet beside him. She was suddenly pressed against his uninjured side, forcing him to his feet with an arm that snaked around his waist to latch onto his belt, thankfully avoiding the injury as she hauled him up. Steven sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the radiating agony that sent the world reeling away from him.
"Gengar! Hypnosis!" She snarled over her shoulder.
Steven struggled to lift his head, to blink the tears of pain that blurred his already wavering vision. They were running. Well, actually she was running, and he was stumbling along, moving only as fast as his body awkwardly allowed and because of her urgency and strength.
He heard the lilting, hypnotic sound of Gengar's voice as it coaxed their pursuers into slumber. The sound made him drowsy, and combined with his already weakened state, Steven could feel his eyelids begin to grow heavy. Once more, he was shaken, and her low voice besieged his ear, "Not now! Come on! Keep running."
"Arrrr-on!"
The sharp sound of Aron's voice ahead of them made Steven's head jerk upward. The steel-type had run ahead of them, clearing the path of obstructions as best as he could. He stood on the slope a small hill that their path was leading to, anxiously waiting for them to catch up. Behind them, Steven could hear the increasing shouts of their pursuers as well as the unmistakable sounds of battle.
"They just keep coming," the woman breathed incredulously and then shouted, "GENGAR!"
A heartbeat later Gengar was right behind them, leaping in giant, easy strides to keep up. Steven caught a brief glimpse of its face. It was disquieting to see the normally mischievous expression on the ghost-type's face as sober and tense as it was.
"Gen gen, gengar," Gengar muttered to its trainer.
Whatever it said couldn't have been good considering how it made her jaw clench and already stressed face grow even more stressed. She let out a gusty sigh, "Perfect."
"Ar-ron!"
Up ahead, Aron had found something among one of the many bushes that seemed to dot the forest. He made urgent, excited keening noises, wanting for them to hurry. It took Steven a moment to realize what Aron was saying.
"Aron says that he's found something. A path in the bushes," He reported, his voice coming out more a soft croak than anything else.
"At this point, I'll take what I can get," quipped the woman wryly. She glanced briefly at Gengar. "We need a distraction. Keep them off of us for just a few minutes and then meet up with us."
"Gen-gar," the ghost-type obediently answered and faded out of existence. A second later, there came a chorus of shouts behind them, followed by sounds of frantic chaos.
Steven grimaced as they hobbled forward. Aron motioned towards the bush with his head. The woman reached out with her free hand and parted some of the branches, revealing a well-concealed path leading away from the main one that they traveled. It dipped downward into another, lower level of the forest. Thickets of trees and wild shrubbery doused the path in shadow.
Without thinking twice, they dove onto the path. Aron scuttled in after them, and grabbed some branches with his mouth to conceal their newly found hiding spot once more. No sooner had he done so did they hear the booted feet of several Rockets trotting into the place that they'd just been.
"What the—they just ran this WAY!" one frustrated Rocket howled.
"Come on! They've got to be around here somewhere. Man, when I get my hands on that little bitch…" growled a second grunt before the two ran on.
"Gengar."
Steven and the woman jumped and whirled in their hiding spot to find Gengar gently landing on the leafy floor. It looked like it had been through a rough battle, even for a ghost. It looked them over and nodded its head resolutely, "Gen-gar. Gen gar."
The arm around Steven's waist relaxed a bit, and she let out a breath, "Good job. That will buy us a few minutes at the most. I still think our best bet is to get to the harbor, but I'm certain that they'll be expecting us. So it's going to be tough. Maybe if we could just…."
Steven sighed and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself together for just a bit longer. The pain had subsided once more into a dull, continuous ache that, while uncomfortable, was tolerable. However, he felt drained…stretched thin. All he wanted was to find a place to curl up and sleep until the gritty, heavy feeling left his body and the pulsating thrumming stopped assailing his temples.
A gentle shake made him open his eyes. He groggily lifted his head to find her looking at him, deep concern in her green eyes. When had she placed him down?
"Hey," she said softly. "You okay? Let me take a look real quick."
She reached for the rough, soaked makeshift bandage wrapped around his abdomen. Before her hands even made contact, Steven was instinctively flinching away. His soft gasp of distress made her freeze, hand extended mid-air. She frowned at him.
"Sorry," Steven said and let out a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. If she had wanted him dead, then this bizarre experience of running from the other Rockets through this god-forsaken island would not have even happened. And there was a kindness in her eyes that told him that she could be trusted if her actions did not say enough already.
She seemed to understand. With extreme care, she peeled back the bandage, and he sucked in a sharp breath as even the air touching the wound seemed to make it burn and ache. After a quick inspection, she redressed the wound and then grimly looked at him.
"It's still bleeding. It…it probably isn't closing because of how much we're moving. Look," She was looking at him so seriously and entreatingly that Steven couldn't help but to stare back, even if he had begun to feel light-headed. "I need for you to hang on. Just for a bit longer. I need to get you somewhere dry and then I can treat it. Right now, it's not an option. Just try to hold on until we can find somewhere safe to hide out."
What option did he really have anyway? Steven just nodded, closing his eyes tightly and focusing on the act of just breathing. The simple, repetitive act was calming in its own way. After a moment, he reopened his eyes and found her pensively staring up, as if looking at the sky through the canopy of leaves.
"I wonder if we could…" She mused absently, her attention obviously elsewhere. Whatever she had been thinking was disturbed by a deep voice
"I know you're in there. You might as well as make this easy on yourself and come out. We have both sides cut off. There's no way out."
Steven felt his heart begin to race as his companion sprang to her feet. The bushes that hid their route parted and in came a short man garbed in a Team Rocket uniform that was different than the others. It was sleeker and more like a suit, clearly signifying some sort of elevated rank.
"Lieutenant Marsh," she hissed, eyes darting from the man to the other Rockets that squeezed their way in after him. Gengar sprang to her side, glaring down the Rockets, its body already tensed for combat.
Lieutenant Marsh was a dark-haired man with sharp features and beady eyes. He exuded coldness, a feeling of malice that made the hair on the back of Steven's neck stand on end. Steven remembered what he had seen in the lab and suppressed a shudder of revulsion. He'd seen with his own eyes what kind of cruelty that this small scarecrow like man was capable of.
"You," Marsh spoke, his hard eyes fixed on the woman, "have caused me a great deal of trouble."
She let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh, "I'm sorry."
"Where are the discs? Hand them over," demanded the Rocket Elite, his voice booming through the tension that racked their enclosure.
"Or?" She boldly demanded though Steven could see by the way she and Gengar were continually looking around that they were sizing up their odds. Odds that didn't look good, by the way.
Marsh sneered and wordlessly snapped his fingers. Just like that, the battle began.
"This'll shut her smug face up!" one grunt zealously hollered as he threw a Poke Ball. "Poochyena, GO!"
Beside him came another Poke Ball, "Magmar!"
"Save some for me! Wartortle, come out!" came a feminine voice.
Steven turned his head when he heard the crunching of leaves and Aron give a warning growl. Three other grunts were advancing, throwing their own Poke Balls into the fray. A Magneton appeared, followed seconds later by a Chimchar and a Golbat. They were cut off from both sides, and their enemies were closing in.
"Magmar! Flamethrower!"
Magmar darted forward and unleashed a stream of flames. They swirled in a brilliant miasma of red, gold, and orange, searing the air with heat as they melded into a powerful weapon heading straight for Gengar. Gengar expertly danced away from the flames, leaping side to side to avoid Magmar's attempt at correct his aim. The flames met empty ground, charring dirt into black spots of soot.
The Wartortle was quick to join the fight on its trainer's command. Gengar ducked in time to miss being nailed by a powerful jet stream of bubbles that whizzed past in rapid, glowing blue torrents. Gengar flitted around the clearing, avoiding flames and bubbles, its body becoming a deep purple blur that melded into the shadows cast by the trees as he ran circles around enemy Pokemon.
"Poochyena! Bite!"
The gray and black canine-like creature bounded after Gengar, chomping with its jaws determinedly. It almost caught Gengar at one point, but the ghost-type obviously had more experience on its side. It leapt straight up, somersaulted, and kicked itself off from the side of a tree. The momentum of the movement sent it hurtling like a rocket towards Magmar, who was trundling around trying to keep up with the speedy ghost-type. Gengar's foot smashed into the fire-type's chest, sending it careening wildly back.
Wartortle jumped over Magmar as it slid by in a billow of dust, small twigs, and leaves. The lavender-colored water-type pressed forward but was forced to skid to an abrupt halt in the Leering blood red eyes that had suddenly appeared in front of it. It was startled stupid for a moment, guard down, which was all Gengar needed.
"POOCHYYY!!" The Poochyena had doubled back and was running full speed in Gengar and Wartortle's direction, barking and snapping its jaws.
Steven was amazed to see Gengar grin at Wartortle. Then he realized why as Gengar threw itself right into Wartortle…and went right through the bewildered water-type. The unfortunate Wartortle was, instead, met by a powerful set of black jaws belonging to the determined Poochyena, who was unable to stop in time.
"War! WAR WAR—TORT!" cried Wartortle in panic, flailing its arms, as Poochyena—as well as the Bite attack--barreled into it. Both of them went tumbling backwards, right through Gengar's ghostly form, and crashed into a nearby tree trunk.
"Gen-gar," Gengar rasped, but its minor victory was short-lived; Magmar had recovered, and it was angry. A massive stream of flames erupted from its mouth that Gengar narrowly avoided. Gengar turned and faced down the large, livid Magmar.
Steven's attention went to his own predicament at this point. Aron was having his own showdown with the Magneton, Chimchar, and Golbat. Taking a deep breath, Steven forced his limbs to cooperate. Using the tree nearby for support, Steven painstakingly pulled himself to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment but willed the weakness out of his body. Aron needed him.
"You might as well as give up," one Rocket suggested in a sickeningly condescending voice. "The Boss wants you alive so why don't you make it easy on yourself?"
Steven's eyes narrowed at this. What did he mean by this 'Boss' wanting him? Whatever. Now wasn't the time to ponder such things. Steven squared his shoulders and pushed himself from the tree, his face hardening as he stood back to back with the woman. If Team Rocket wanted him, let's see if they could get him!
"Aron, ROAR!"