I have nothing to say, except updates will resume sporadically, at my usual snail's pace of roughly monthly. XD
For you, Rocky, because you're so impatient.
And for Time, because he's a fracking awesome beta. :D
December 18, 2000
26 Rockslide Avenue, Mayor's Residence.
Veilstone City.
4:07 AM
Jennifer awoke with a start.
It was cold in the room again; after all, the place was a mass of snow from the recent blizzard. In the night, the snow had started again. She glanced hastily at the flowing flakes, dancing merrily from the sky to hurtle towards the ground. Awful turn of luck, really. It seemed that there would be lots more snow on the way down.
But that wasn't the source of her discomfort. The Mismagius was here, again, and she could feel it.
"Go away," she hissed to the otherwise silent room. "Don't tempt me, you devil!"
But the room remained unresponsive, and the mayor felt idiotic for even talking to herself.
It was all too familiar. The first dream she'd had, about her alter ego as portrayed by the Mismagius, was hauntingly similar to the dream she'd just had. Was the Pokémon trying to tell her something with these constant dreams? She had no doubts in her mind that they were coming from the Magical Pokémon. Her visions had been twisted, polluted. She'd had trouble distinguishing what was happening in her dreams, something that had never troubled her before. And now…she felt the familiar clutches of panic in her throat, but she quickly shook them off. Damned creature. She wouldn't let it have the satisfaction that she'd been beaten.
Pulling out her journal, Jennifer slipped on her glasses and began sketching the fourth figure from her dreams…the short woman with red hair.
December 18, 2000
Pastoria City Pokémon Center
Pastoria City
8:19 AM
The red-haired girl roused herself from slumber at exactly 8:19 AM. Without a glance, she flipped Glameow's Pokéball forward, and the Catty Pokémon burst from the sphere onto the girl's bed, yawning. The girl continued on her missive—she was headed for the bathroom.
Her movement was interrupted by a beep from her Pokétch. Cocking her head curiously, she picked up the device, looking forward. A notice had come through from an email, notifying her that the deposit from her cardchip had gone through, and her account now carried seven million plus credits. She really could retire on that, perhaps to the South Sea, but that wasn't what she was planning on. More heists, more danger, more excitement! That's what she wanted. That's what she'd get from now on. She smiled. Soon enough, another email would ping to her Pokétch and she'd get even more money, and more prestige. And then…when she'd finally gotten enough…she'd retire, take her Glameow to the tropics, and live like a Queen.
A sharp giggle burst from her lips as a knock sounded on the door to her room. Glameow looked up interestedly as the girl moved to the door, opening it with a quick snap.
"Yes?" she asked sweetly, drawing out the vowel in the middle.
Nurse Joy stood there with a clipboard. She glanced down reassuringly at the thing before her eyes lingered of their own accord on the redhead. "Oh, Mabel, is it? Checkout time. If I may see your Trainer's License, we'll get the appropriate charges put on your account."
The girl grinned. "Oh, of course. Hang on; let me get my Pokédex, will you?"
Nurse Joy smiled warmly as the girl shut the door in her face. "Of course!"
She waited for a minute, humming softly a few bars of a popular song. She tapped her fingers idly to the beat, first drumming on her clipboard, then her head, and finally the side of the doorframe itself. She let herself be carried by the beat for a long moment until she realized she hadn't heard any noise from the room itself. She frowned.
"Mabel?" she called hesitantly. "If it's not a bother, how about I come in?"
When no response came, Nurse Joy opened the door.
Mabel was gone.
December 18, 2000
43 Malachite Street, Apartment 12
Veilstone City
9:34 AM
"So, Boss." Gregori took a long drag of his cigarette. "May I ask, why me?"
The two were standing on the balcony of Cyrus' apartment, Gregori of course on a smoke break, Cyrus grudgingly obliging his cohort's demands for fresh air. Across from them, Sneasel played happily on the five-foot snowdrifts. The Sharp Claw Pokémon drifted back and forth, catching snowflakes on his little tongue or slicing the snow with his paws.
For a long moment, Cyrus was unresponsive. He'd known this question would come up eventually, but he was still mulling over a good answer for the man. In fact, what was it that had attracted the attention of the cold and silent man? For nothing else, Gregori had nothing to lose, honestly. He was now considered a non-entity by the Sinnohsian government, thanks to some quick thinking with a poor frozen bum's body and falsified dental records (both men had sufficient skill with the computer to undertake that task). Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that something was looking out for him by providing the exact persons that he would need to complete his vision. There was a cosmic reason for it—he just didn't know what. Something, somewhere…Gregori was meant to be on his team. To share his vision.
"…it's because." Cyrus stopped. "You've heard my vision for the future, what I want to build. You should be able to answer the question yourself."
Gregori nodded, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "We're going to build a new future with the energy source we'll discover. The energy we tap from Pokémon evolution will lead to a grander Sinnoh, one that will become the greatest of the Big Four regions and the rest of the world." He recited.
He stopped, taking a drag of his cigarette. The words sounded impressive enough, but he was still in the dark about his involvement in the whole affair. The MarshBadge Experiment had been one thing. Helping Cyrus? Quite another. Gregori pushed the thoughts from his mind and took another long puff of his cigarette, letting the hot nicotine float in the chilly air.
Cyrus grunted, watching the Sneasel chatter happily at a passing Murkrow who darted around looking for scraps. He smiled imperceptibly at both his underling and at the careful vision of the happy little Sneasel.
He turned, pinning Gregori with a hard gaze that softened into a cool understanding of the other man's motives. Gregori returned the gaze coolly with a terribly imperial air. Somehow, the man exuded suaveness and political power, even through the slouched posture and the carelessly held cigarette. As Cyrus watched, Gregori took a small drag of the cigarette and snuffed it out, not quite finished.
"You really think we can do it, Boss?" Gregori asked softly. "Do you really think that we'll be able to…accomplish…your vision?"
Cyrus grinned. "My friend, we'd be fools not to try."
December 17
55 Avenue B, University of Sinnoh at Jubilife
Jubilife City
8:05 PM
"I really must say…I'm delighted to have someone of your stature here with me."
Professor Chokecherry puttered about as he poured a warm cup of tea for Cynthia. The cup was ancient and looked like it would break any minute, but Cynthia sipped it appreciatively. She was pleasantly surprised—the tea was the same kind her grandmother made.
"Your lecture interested me, Professor," Cynthia returned. Professor Chokecherry held up his hands, stopping her mid sentence.
"Please," he wheezed, "Charles, Ms. Delacroix."
"Then you must call me Cynthia."
Her voice was warm and low from the tea, and she sipped it in minute qualities as she observed the professor's cluttered office. Papers lay strewn about the desk she was currently perched beside and fell haphazardly to the floor. An ancient computer glowed on the side of a long counter stuffed with plants and books alike. Along the walls were pictures of various dignitaries and thinkers of his craft, students of the Professor, several members of the Elite Four of Sinnoh and other regions, and one single one with the famed Professor Oak of Kanto. Professor Chokecherry stood at a cabinet across the way, tidying up in a useless gesture to keep his hands occupied.
"Well then, Cynthia…what really interested you in my lecture?" Charles wheezed, clasping his hands behind his back. "I've been teaching for quite some time, you know. You're not the first pupil—or, in your case, observer—to come through my office, saying these same lines."
Cynthia smiled, putting her cup down on the desk. She popped one of her ankles as she demurely sat down in the chair, steeping her fingers. The view of the UofS Jubilife campus stretched impressively out the window, and she did not break her gaze to look at the man behind her.
"Professor," she began, "I must admit. The subject matter itself is not entirely interesting. Biology, physiology, the innermost workings of a Pokémon—these do not concern me. I am a Champion; I work with my Pokémon partners to win battles. I don't spend my days in research. But…there was something you said today, something that aroused my interest."
"Aroused?" Charles squeaked. He'd picked the word out from the other waffle she was throwing his way, and he most certainly wasn't pleased with that phrase. "Ms. Delacroix, I am not in the search for petty pleasures of the flesh—"
Cynthia rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Spare me that drivel, Professor. I'm not here for that either." Her voice dripped with scorn, and Charles felt his face flush with anger.
"Now look just a minute!"
Cynthia rose from the chair at once, rising to her impressive six foot height. With a slow turn she pinned Professor Chokecherry with an imperious gaze. "Your lecture was droll, Professor," she remarked, "uninteresting and quite unremarkable. I would have nodded off if it wasn't for the clause about Pokémon capture and control—using biological pheromones to keep them contained. There are…applications. Of that research. That I'm interested in."
Charles nodded slowly. "Yes." he replied. "It's quite simple, the formula."
"Simple enough to make a sample?" Cynthia asked, her grey eyes raking the man. "A portable sample?"
The air grew cold as the shorter man stared at Cynthia, his eyes narrowing. His brain buzzed, catching up with what she was asking. His slothful mouth sagged at the edges; he blubbered a couple of times in confusion.
"No," Charles finally hissed, "no. I won't do it. I will not be denied the applications of my research by the League! Too many of my comrades have had this talk with their Champions—Alder, Cottonwood, Willow—I refuse to do the same! I won't have my invention stolen out from under my nose like them!" He clenched his fists as his heart stabbed his chest in his anger. Wheezing breaths issued from his nose in a whine.
Cynthia folded her arms, her gray eyes flicking on his hunched stature. "You will, Professor. You cannot refuse my request."
For a long moment, Professor Chokecherry didn't move. His breath came in raspy gasps as he stared into Cynthia's eyes. How dare she pull that card on him? Already he was being "handled" by the League, something that they—Willow and Alder both-- had said would happen but he had never considered it could be applied to his research. He had been hasty and arrogant to assume that something as breathtaking as his research could have escaped the notice. He wanted the fame and prestige; not this!
"I should have realized," he muttered sotto voce, "I should have known."
He looked up at the Champion, his dull eyes flashing with a hard menace. She regarded him coolly in return. Her impassive gray eyes hid her thoughts.
"No," he gasped finally, clutching his chest, "I won't do it."
Cynthia grinned. Sharp pointed teeth poked from the corners of her mouth dangerously. "Yes, you will."
With that, she moved to the door, her dark heels clicking softly even on the carpet. She gathered her coat from the coat rack and put it on with a flourish, not even glancing behind her at the slumped form of the wheezing man in his office.
"I'll call again at the end of the month, Professor!" she spoke cheerily to the now open door. She ginned back at Charles with a cold and feral gaze. "Thank you for the exquisite tea," she added sincerely, and then the door closed with a snap.