What's interesting to note is that I always seem to have trouble with the thirteenth chapter. It always stalls out before I can get anything done, and then takes me months to get over it. Ah, well. Please enjoy this very belated chapter...and remember, everything will belong to Team Galactic.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the concept of Pokémon. I own only the specific characterizations of the canon characters as well as the assorted and individual background characters, along with the plot of this story itself. This work cannot be used, copied, reproduced or otherwise distributed. All rights reserved; Blakeface, The Pokémon Company, Satoshi Tajiri and Ken Sugimori, Nintendo, Gamefreak and Creatures Ltd.
December 18, 2000
56 Adamantium Avenue, Veilstone Correctional and Penal Facility
Veilstone City
8:07 AM
"Sir, you know that the Mayor's eventually going to want answers about this," Valerie said the instant Henry had stepped through the door. She had been impatiently waiting for him to arrive by the glass doors separating the police headquarters from the parking garage and wasted no time in starting the conversation that both knew they had to have. "It was part of the agreement with the Defense Forces and—"
"I'm well aware of that," Henry replied with a terse growl as they walked into the complex together from the parking garage entrance. Snow lined the tiled hallway thanks to the myriad of police officers coming to and from their patrols; several times Valerie nearly slipped and Henry caught her automatically with a brush of his hand.
"You know," he commented stifling back a yawn, "you could have forgone the usual outfit today."
Valerie shrugged as she palmed the button for the elevator. "Sir," she replied wryly," if I'm to make Jenny one day, I don't ever want the record to show that I was out of order in any department."
Henry grinned as he surveyed the traditional policewoman's uniform, bare legs and pumps included. Nothing was out of place; even her shoes were perfectly shined.
"Well, if you're sure…at any rate, I'm aware of the agreement. I spent most of last night being dressed down by the higher-ups in the Defense Forces. They're sending someone to help in the investigation…and they contacted the League. The Champion knows."
Valerie's eyes jumped into her head as they boarded the elevator. "Cynthia?"
Henry shrugged. "She has the necessary clearance now, you know. Floor seven," he added to Valerie as she automatically reached for the button that would take them to the top floor and their offices. "Like I said, they're sending someone to help with the investigation. They're already here."
Valerie nodded and punched button for the correct floor. "Sir, for the record?"
Henry grunted noncommittally as the elevator whirred and the box rose in its empty shaft. The traditional and supposedly calming instrumental music played from hidden speakers, but both ignored it. Valerie twisted her gloves in her hands as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the elevator.
"I think we might be getting in over our heads."
Henry shot a baleful glance to his left at her as the elevator came to a smooth halt and the doors opened. In front of them, a few police officers moved around on their own duties, talking loudly about the snowstorm, their families…whatever mundane topic was at hand. They had no clue as to what had transpired, and if all went well, they wouldn't. Something had happened, something of grave importance, something that no one would ever know about.
"Lieutenant, we've been in over our heads since the day we put pen to paper on that agreement."
With that, he stepped off the elevator.
December 18,2000
Veilstone Center for Technology and Progress
Veilstone City
9:05 AM
Cyrus and Gregori's footsteps echoed loudly as they entered through the back door of the towering complex. Automatically, lights hummed to life as motion sensors detected their presence. A gentle whir came from the warp tiles in the floor as they powered up. Gregori stared openly and appreciatively at the technology embedded in the very walls of the building. He absently wondered if a calm, cool voice hidden in speakers would attend to his whims, but he dismissed the thought before he was lost in fantasies of science fiction. Regardless, the corridor was sleek and evoked a sense of movement. Gregori found himself wanting to dash down the hallway and keep running.
"First things first," Cyrus commented as they entered into a plush office on the first floor, "we must have manpower."
"Where could we find it?"
Gregori slumped down on the couch in this office. He wasn't sure if it was Cyrus' office—there were no windows—but no expense had been spared. It was beautifully crafted in a post-modern bob of swirls and color yet somehow aggressively neutral. The design of the office suggested movement; everything suggested movement. Keep moving. He wasn't sure where they would be going, but they would not stop in their goals. They would never stop.
"It will have to come from the masses," Cyrus mused as he sank into the chair behind the desk. As he sat, his eyes never quite met the other's. Gregori held out his fingers in the practiced habit of holding a cigarette, despite the fact he had none; it was too ingrained into his psyche.
"The masses?"
"The people," Cyrus elaborated, "the people of this region. There must be someone who shares our goal. People who can be easily molded. People of weak will."
The dangerous edge gleamed in his eyes as he pinned Gregori with a long stare. "People of weak heart will follow us. They will follow us until the end. Now we must just find out a way to find them…"
Gregori nodded coolly despite the fact that on the inside his throat burned. He opened his mouth to speak but Cyrus interrupted him with a cool glare that silenced the other man immediately. Gregori automatically straightened from his dejected slump and stared back, waiting for Cyrus' lead. The man was commanding, intimidating. Gregori felt a pull in his heart to do what the other man wanted.
"You must be a leader too." He stated calmly. "You will command in my absence, delegate to my other commanders, keep everyone on task when I cannot. You will be my second, my…Number One, if you will. Are you up to it?"
Gregori fell back against the cushion with a whoosh. Doubts surfaced in his mind. Cyrus was asking a lot, but at the same time it wasn't a question. Deep inside, Gregori almost felt like something was urging him to move forward with Cyrus' vision. He didn't put much stock in myths and fairytales, but something he firmly believed in was The Partnership. The inexplicable bonds that existed between man and Pokémon…some called it hokey, but he had proof it was real. How else could they understand and interact? The same feeling was there with Cyrus. A pull to follow him until the ends of the earth, just like the pull was in his bones to work with his Pokémon partners. Already, the man was irritating for his constant mood swings—suave yet imperial, dashing yet dangerous—but Gregori liked it. He liked the plans and the things that they could create.
Slowly, he bobbed his head up and down, knowing that the next words to come from his throat would be the most important he'd ever made in his life. "I am ready."
Cyrus grinned. "Welcome to Team Galactic Headquarters," he paused for a long, dangerous moment, holding his breath, "Commander Saturn."
December 18, 2000
56 Adamantium Avenue, Veilstone Correctional and Penal Facility
Veilstone City
8:57 AM
"Now let me get this straight, Mr. Griffin, you were aware of the fact that Mr. Scott had been released? And you didn't sign any orders to capture him immediately? Why in Cresselia's name didn't you?"
Henry gritted his teeth as he stared at the League representative. He tried valiantly not to let his irritation show, but Valerie noticed that his eyes flashed dangerously for a second there until he was able to stifle the reaction. The League rep narrowed her eyes and pinned him with a cold stare that he swore would have frozen Regigigas in its tracks.
"I would like an answer, Mr. Griffin," she snapped coldly.
"…begging your pardon, Champion," Henry replied with every bit of ice he could muster, "I have already filed my report with the Defense Forces; I can put you in touch with General Veidt if you would like—"
The Champion jumped out of her chair so fast that the office chair fell onto the carpeted floor with a muffled whoosh and a thump. Even Henry was surprised at the ferocity of her actions as she slammed both of her palms down on the table so hard the whole room vibrated.
"I don't think I have to remind you that I am now the highest authority in this region, mister Griffin, and I do not appreciate the fact that I am responsible for your mistakes. I would like an answer to my question. Why were you aware that Mister Scott had been released and why was a manhunt not immediately ordered? Under the agreement, that was to be issued immediately as Mister Scott is—was—a Class Five criminal in the Sinnoh region."
She glowered at Henry over the table and the two locked eyes for a long moment. Her gray eyes were completely impenetrable. Henry couldn't tell if she was completely serious about this affair simply by looking at her eyes; but the grim line of her mouth and the way her chest heaved in the warm air of the conference room told otherwise. It was abnormal for a Champion. It had long been regarded as a ceremonial title, despite the fact that winning Champion actually meant that the titleholder was the highest authority in the region. Not since the long line of Champion-Lords in the latter part of the 1800s had a Champion taken such an interest in the workings that were normally left to the bureaucratic block.
"Why does it matter?" Henry blurted before he could stop himself. "I don't mean disrespect, Champion, I don't." He sucked in a deep breath, confident he'd knocked her off-guard. Of course, he was curious.
"Normally, Champions focus on other matters," he continued. "They stick to their training schedules and constant press appearances…opening Pokémon Centers and keeping the Gym Leaders in line and battling every third Bug Catcher that crosses their path. You don't seem the type to really want to take an interest in what goes on in the world. What the rest of us mere mortals have to keep running."
Cynthia narrowed her eyes in a wry smile and let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Motioning to one of her bodyguards, they stood the chair up and she sank gratefully into it. There was a long moment, another dangerous pause. She was determined to find out why he—a lowly police officer—was asking. She found that her new task was to call his bluff.
"You're right, Mister Griffin," she replied in a frosty tone, "not since the Champion-Lords has anyone taken up the mantle of being Champion with such…vigor, we'll say. I'll admit I have my own goals that don't necessarily end with winning the Pokémon League. Winning Champion is not just a matter of the ceremony. It's not just a matter of the pomp, and circumstance. It's not just a matter of doing those duties. There are other things at work in this universe, things that I aim to study. Do you see now, Mister Griffin? I have knowledge of these other events, and I don't have time to be picking up the pieces after you've let an escaped convict with classified information roam free in the region."
Henry nodded slowly as he absorbed what she'd said. His mind bounced between theories for a little while until he finally decided to tell her the truth. "I delayed ordering the manhunt because of Mister Scott's benefactor," he finally replied.
"Benefactor?" Cynthia asked quietly.
Henry nodded politely. "The security tapes of the facility show a blue-haired man who left with Scott after posting his bail; under the non-discretionary clause of the agreement, we posted a bail on record—an impossibly high bail, but a bail nonetheless—and I wanted to track him. I wanted to know why he was authorized to order the release of Scott and where they were headed. Unfortunately…his face returned no hits on our tracking database, and then we found Scott later, beaten to death and left half-frozen under a bridge. There appeared to be no motive, other than to kill him."
Cynthia sat for a long while, drinking in the man's words. "Appeared to be no motive…may I see the pictures of the benefactor?"
Henry nodded. "Lieutenant…?" he asked expectantly, and with a nod, Valerie was already out of her chair and speaking quickly to a guard at the door, telling him where to find the expected files.
"In the meantime, Mister Griffin, I'd like to apologize for my earlier outburst," Cynthia commented when the door was shut again. "It was out of order."
Henry shrugged at her. "I can't say that I blame you," he replied roughly, "but I am still curious as to why you've taken such a special interest in this."
Cynthia smiled demurely, disarmingly. The sharp corners of her teeth poked out dangerously from the sides. "I told you already, Mister Griffin, there are forces at work that I aspire to seek. Gaining Champion was merely a tool to an end for this."
The conversation progressed no further as the door opened again and the guard handed Valerie the appropriate security footage. Henry exchanged a thoughtful glance with her about what the League Champion had just said, but Valerie dismissed it with a casual downturn of her eyes. She placed the folder containing the pictures on the table between the two, and Cynthia accepted it with a quite murmur of thanks.
For a while, they sat in silence as Cynthia flipped through the first pictures. Henry sat with lips drawn tightly together. His leg bounced up and down from nervous habit. Valerie kept her eyes carefully trained on a spot on the wall, prim legs crossed in front of her and hands folded demurely in her lap. It was stifling in the room with so little noise and movement.
Cynthia gasped with a little hitch in her throat, and even Henry broke his twitch at the noise. She pointed to one of the three or four shots in the entire folder that the blue-haired man's face was clearly visible. "I know him, Mister Griffin," she gasped, her throat sticking, "his name is Cyrus…he's an architect."