Junia Stevens Unveils Campaign Slogan
in Mauville
Zoey Williams, Election
Nov. 26, 2010

MAUVILLE CITY, HOENN—In front of a
crowd of nearly 100 supporters Friday
afternoon, Junia Stevens revealed her
campaign's slogan: "Creating a better
world."

"I am not a one-issue candidate," Stevens
said at the event. "I do not want to improve
one thing; I want to better our whole world.
There is a lot to do, but I am prepared to do
it."

Stevens's campaign has largely centered on
"scrapping current systems of government
in favor of newer, better ones," campaign
manager Satchel Thompson said.

"The new slogan is fitting for this campaign
and this candidate," he said. "We believe
wholeheartedly in attacking the issues our
nation faces on all fronts, not just one."

The reaction of attendees to the reveal
was largely positive.

"Just addressing crime, or just addressing
education isn't going to change much,"
Rachel Daniels said. "That's why I like Junia
Stevens. She recognizes that you can't just
fix one thing and expect everything else to
get better. We have to change everything."

Still, others remained skeptical.

"Of course there are multiple issues, but no
one person can just wave a wand and fix
everything," Rogelio Garcia said. "I want to
hear more concrete policy ideas from
Stevens than just, 'We should do this.'"

Follow the reporter Zoey Williams at
zoey_williams on Chatot.

Zoey knew only two people who would call her before sunrise.

The first was Barry. Several years ago, he had mixed an energy drink with coffee and called to report he could "see sounds" and wanted to know how to make it stop. She had told him to drink water to flush it out of his system and hung up.

He later thanked her and said she was the only friend he wasn't issuing a "fine" to over the incident. Apparently, she was the last of a string of phone calls that morning. Most of their friends didn't answer at all; Kenny thought he was joking, laughed, and told him to go back to sleep; Cilan advised he see a doctor, which Barry determined was "useless" information; Leaf cursed him out for calling so early; Paul threatened that he'd ring Barry's neck if he called at that hour over something so stupid again.

The second was Homa. Zoey knew Barry would (likely) never make the mistake of mixing two highly caffeinated beverages again, and if he did, he knew the solution. That left one culprit.

"Homa, do you know what time it is in Hoenn?" Zoey yawned upon picking up. Glameow, curled up at her feet, made an irritated noise that her sleep had, too, been interrupted.

"Have you read the new polling numbers RotoData released this morning?"

"No. I just woke up. You literally just woke me up," Zoey emphasized.

"Then I'll catch you up," Homa said. "Stevens is now polling ahead of Abel by 2 percent nationally."

"Somehow, that doesn't shock me," Zoey said dryly, recalling his history of controversy. "Who's leading?"

"Sinternik at 19 percent. Waylend's close behind at 18. Jenny is 14, Adalet is 13, Blanc is 11, Stevens is 8, and Abel is 6. The number of undecided/don't know stands at 11 percent, same as Blanc."

Zoey sat up in bed, stretched, and combed her fingers through her hair. It was no use by then; she was already up. Glameow had not yet resigned herself to the morning, however, and resituated herself to go back to sleep even in her trainer's absence.

"Even if Stevens pulled ahead, those aren't exactly impressive numbers," Zoey said. "Not even a tenth of the population is leaning toward voting for her."

"Regardless, her popularity has grown," Homa said.

"Marginally." Zoey yawned again. "What's the purpose of this call? Are you asking me to write up an article about the new numbers?"

"Already taken care of," Homa dismissed. "No, I called to make a point. Stevens is rising in the polls, and we barely know anything about her."

"People don't care what a person is like as long as they say things they want to hear."

"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't," Homa said. A pause. "How close are you with Marinda Ortiz?"

Zoey stepped lightly on her way downstairs, so as to not wake anyone else up. She winced when the wood creaked a little under her foot, but otherwise, so far, so good.

In the kitchen, she crept toward the coffee machine and started to make herself a cup. She was blessed one of her hosts was as picky a consumer as her; it meant he invested in high quality grounds, not just whatever could be cheaply pulled from the shelves.

"What're you doing up?"

Zoey jumped at the voice and spun around.

"Arceus, you scared me!" she exclaimed in a startled whisper.

Drew craned an eyebrow at her but didn't respond. Zoey had arrived at the Hayden residence in Slateport City, and having traveled all day from Mauville, Drew probably expected she would sleep in. May practically had a conniption when she found out Zoey would be in town, and she insisted she stay with them. So, Zoey made the extra effort to get to Slateport a little earlier than necessary, just so she could spend the day with them.

"And," Zoey continued, indignantly folding her arms, "I could ask you the same question."

"Roserade trains best in the morning," Drew said with a shrug. "Synthesis works well."

"You're not even competitive anymore," Zoey pointed out. "What're you training for?"

Her words seemed to touch a nerve. Drew looked annoyed when he replied, "Look, it clears my head, all right? Besides, don't tell me you never take your Pokémon out for some exercise."

"All right, fine," Zoey said, conceding he had a point. "Sorry. I just didn't expect anyone else to be awake."

"Why are you awake?" Drew asked, repeating his question. Zoey removed the coffee pot.

"My editor woke me up," she spoke as she poured herself a cup. "New poll's out this morning."

"Who's leading?"

"Sinternik."

"Not surprising."

"Do you think he's likely to win?" Zoey asked.

"Him or Waylend," Drew said. "Goldenrod and Saffron have done very well under them. I'll take either over Abel."

A hint of contempt rose in his voice. Zoey remembered Drew's father was the founder of the Battle Tower, of which Greg Abel had been an executive. She wondered if he knew Abel at all but decided not to ask.

"Well, Junia Stevens just pulled ahead of him by 2 percent."

Drew scoffed.

"I'll take her over Abel, too."

They moved on to other points of discussion, but the topic of Junia Stevens came up again unexpectedly at breakfast several hours later, when the rest of the household was awake. After May finished serving the Pokémon—Glameow included—their morning meal, she plopped into the seat across from Zoey whilst Drew set out a plate of scrambled eggs. She made a few morning pleasantries, then inquisitively chirped, "So, I meant to ask: What do you think about Junia Stevens?"

The question caught Zoey by surprise, mainly because she hadn't expected May of all people to ask it. When Zoey stared and didn't immediately reply, May became apologetic.

"Sorry, I know you're a reporter and you're not supposed to take sides," May hurriedly said. "But I was just wondering, y'know, 'cause you've been following her pretty closely."

"May's been taking her civic duty very seriously," Drew said lightly, almost in a tease, as he set the serving platter down and sat left of May.

"Well, I should, shouldn't I?" May glowered at him. "It's a really big deal, our first national election! Ash, Leaf, Paul, Iris, and Max worked really hard for this, so the least I can do is give everyone some consideration, right?"

Zoey managed a chuckle.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But just because I'm a reporter doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions."

"Oh?" May perked up. "So what is your opinion then?"

Zoey leaned back in her chair, mug in hand, stirring its contents thoughtfully as she did. It was her second cup of coffee that morning.

"I think Junia Stevens is a very articulate woman who doesn't articulate any policy," Zoey concluded.

"So…" May started, processing.

"She means Junia Stevens says things that sound nice but have little substance behind them," Drew clarified. Zoey nodded. "I agree with that."

"Oh," May said. "That's too bad. You think so too, Drew?"

"Compared to other candidates, Stevens seems directionless," Drew affirmed. "People like Sinternik may be dry, but at least he has experience in governing and a concrete plan."

"He likes Sinternik," May informed Zoey irrelevantly.

"He's all right," Drew said coolly, trying to downplay her assessment. "He's not awful at least."

"I like Adalet," May then declared, to Zoey's utter surprise—Drew less so because he had probably heard it before.

"Erol Adalet?" Zoey repeated, flabbergasted.

"Mhm," May hummed, nodding.

"You… do remember who Adalet is?" Zoey gently pressed.

Zoey remembered not being surprised when Adalet resigned from the G-Men to run. It seemed obvious, really, but she also remembered scrunching her nose at the thought. Their group's experiences with Adalet almost a decade earlier had not been amicable to say the least.

"She knows," Drew said flatly. "I've reminded her."

"You two are so unforgiving," May grumbled. "That was years ago. He was doing his job."

"At our expense," Zoey added with a sour chuckle . "He tracked us down, locked us—"

"—We were in the wrong," May protested, her voice suddenly rising. It fell again with embarrassment at her own temper. "... I mean, it wasn't our fault. We were kids. And, yeah, at the time, he was sort of preventing us from saving Moltres and Mewtwo. But everything that happened was wrong. And everything that happened afterward was wrong. I mean, ethically. And y'know, I love Ash and Max and everyone, and they've done amazing things, but it's wrong that unelected leaders are in charge of our government. It's why he left for seven years; it's why Iris welcomed him back. And really, it's why he's running now."

A long pause followed. May probably hadn't meant to become so serious, but she had gained Zoey and Drew's rapt attention, so she pushed herself to finish.

"And I think that his commitment to righting all those wrongs is more important than any typical policy," May said. "That's why we're having this election at all, right?"

Zoey pursed her lips.

"You know, May," she started, "you really are one of the most thoughtful people I know."

May smiled shyly, flattered, but was quick to move on.

"Anyway," she said, "I'm sorry for bringing it up. What time do you have to be at that fundraiser thing tonight?"

"It starts at 8, but I want to be there a little early," Zoey said. "I need to see if I can talk to the spokesperson."

"What for?" Drew inquired.

"My editor wants me to write a profile on Junia Stevens," Zoey said. "But to do that, I need a one-on-one sit-down with her."

"Ooh." May winced. "That sounds hard."

"Oh no," Zoey corrected. "I would prefer writing a profile than continue slogging through two-hour events for a 200-word brief."

"Do you miss reporting on contests?" Drew asked.

Zoey sucked in her breath.

"More than you can imagine."

Zoey was mildly impressed by the guest list at the event. Mildly. Most of the attendees were unknowns—moderately wealthy Hoenish people who were drawn to Junia Stevens for one reason or another—but there were a few household names.

One of the more distinguished guests was Professor Daniel Birch. He and his wife, Zoey learned after pulling them aside for a few comments, became interested in Stevens because of her scientific credentials. It was a sentiment Zoey had encountered more than a few times since her first interview with Lucas Damon.

"All scientists," Birch began with his famous effusive grin, "have a certain set of principles. They strive for knowledge—they strive for for truth. They are ruled by the use of logic. Facts matter to them. Those things, I think, are invaluable in a leader."

"Does it concern you Stevens has never held a leadership before?" Zoey inquired.

"You mean that she's not a politician?" Birch laughed. "No, it doesn't bother me." A pause. "Don't get me wrong—Waylend? Sinternik? Fine men. But I find myself nodding in agreement with Junia every time she talks about how we have to stop doing the same old things over and over again. In that sense, maybe our country needs someone who isn't a politician."

"Besides," his wife, Melissa, chimed in, "there's never been a president of our country before. It's not like anyone else has more experience."

"Some criticize Stevens for being vague about the policy behind 'creating a better world,'" Zoey pointed out, reciting the new slogan. "What are your thoughts on that?"

Birch withdrew his grin and bobbed his head thoughtfully.

"It's true," he conceded. "Some of her ideas are vague. But it's still early in the campaign. I have confidence her vision will become more concrete with time."

"So you're relying entirely on her ethos?" Zoey raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am!" Birch's grin returned.

Zoey finished taking down his words, then looked up again to ask another follow-up—but her attention was arrested by a pretty bob of scarlet hair across the room, and she stopped short.

"Thank you very much for your time," Zoey said quickly, closing her notebook.

"No problem," Birch said. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Zoey briskly made her way across the ballroom floor, through curtains of dark evening dresses and tailored suits, until she reached the woman in a sleek silver gown with a glass of wine held delicately between her fingers. She was on the brink of ending a conversation with a man Zoey identified as Captain David Stern, the now-retired oceanographer and founder of the Oceanic Museum, where the event was being held.

"Excuse me, Ms. Ortiz," Zoey expertly wove her way into conversation the moment Captain Stern turned away. She paused for Marinda to turn around, waited a moment longer, then added, "You look fantastic."

Marinda smiled warmly, seemingly flattered, but said, "What do you want, Ms. Williams?"

Zoey was slightly taken aback but managed to conceal it.

"You... remember my name!" she said.

"The scratchy-voiced woman from the Hearthome Chronicle who calls me every other night," Marinda recalled. "Yes, I remember you by your voice alone."

The cattiness in her remark was grating—the thought persisted that she so preferred dealing with young coordinators whose only flaws were naïveté and maybe a little ego—but Zoey managed a smile regardless. Were it anyone else, she might have made a snappy comeback, but she was still under strict orders from Homa to build a good report.

"Yes, my editor is very particular," Zoey said. "She makes sure we leave no stone unturned."

Marinda hummed, sounding unimpressed.

"So what can I clarify for you tonight?" she asked.

"No clarifications—yet." Zoey added that last word knowing she would have to speak with Homa again that evening. "I do have a request though."

Marinda tilted her head and carefully narrowed her gaze, indicating she should go on. Zoey cleared her throat.

"The Hearthome Chronicle wants to run a profile on Junia Stevens," she said, "so I would like to schedule an interview—"

"—No," Marinda immediately rejected. Zoey mentally stumbled.

"You didn't even hear my pitch," she protested. Marinda turned away and started to walk off, but Zoey followed. "The Hearthome Chronicle is one of the most-respected publications in all of Sinnoh—in all of Napaj! You know we would be just, and you know from the amount of times I've called you that I'm committed to accurate and thorough reporting. Junia Stevens is an unknown candidate, and people want to know who she is. It's to your benefit to grant interviews to news organizations, especially ones of our esteem."

"Unknown?" Marinda scoffed, spinning around to face Zoey again. Her hand swept across the ballroom. "You call this unknown?"

"This is child's play compared to the attention people like Sinternik are receiving," Zoey said bluntly. "She's polling at the bottom, and when Abel inevitably drops out—"

"—The answer is no." A dark, harsh voice emerged from behind Zoey, chilling every bone in her body. She turned and found herself just inches away from a tall, silver haired and eyed woman. These were hardly her most striking features, however; a large, sunken scar—from some sort of trauma, it appeared—extended down the left side of her face. Zoey's breath caught, but she said nothing. The woman flicked her gaze toward Marinda, who looked stricken herself.

"Come on, Marinda," the woman said. Marinda nodded quickly and scuttled after her, heading toward the stage. Relenting, Zoey could see Junia Stevens herself, in an elegant black dress, speaking to Satchel. It seemed she would address the crowd soon.

Zoey took a deep breath, still processing the events that had just unfolded, when she suddenly found herself, again, not alone.

"What was that about?" Ciara Skelley asked, coming up beside her. She gave Zoey a once-over before adding, "You clean up nice."

Zoey ignored both remarks and spoke directly.

"Who is that?" she asked, discreetly pointing toward the silver-haired woman. Ciara turned her head, squinted at the woman, seemed to recognize her, then turned back to Zoey.

"I'll tell you if you answer my question," Ciara bargained.

"Fine," Zoey agreed, annoyed. Ciara smiled wryly.

"Jennifer Dey," she said. "She's an adviser to Junia Stevens. I don't know anything beyond that. We don't really see much of her, although, it's not hard to understand why. I wouldn't want to go out much with a face like that either." Zoey appeared unamused by the quip. Ciara continued, "Now you. What was that about?"

Zoey sighed and folded her arms, averting her eyes.

"I was flat-out rejected for an interview with Junia Stevens," she said. At this, Ciara appeared genuinely surprised.

"You too?" she questioned. Zoey stared.

An applause rose from the crowd. Junia Stevens was now front and center on the stage. She waved to the crowd with an urbane smile, and Zoey watched her carefully for a moment before her attention diverted back to Jennifer, who slunk off stage as Junia began her speech.

Story's posted. Make sure
you send out a link from your
Chatot account.

No edits?

I did them myself. It was
pretty straightforward. Did
you speak with Marinda
tonight?

Yes. I was turned down
midway through my 2nd
sentence.

Why?

No idea. The Sinnoan Times
was also turned down.

Hm. Stay on her.

Will do.
Read 11:27 p.m.
...

Exhausted, cold, and sore, Zoey pulled off her heels the moment she stepped back into the Hayden household—May promised they would leave the door unlocked and the light on for her—and dropped the shoes at the entryway. She was anxious to get to bed, where Glameow could warm her feet and she could enjoy a good night's rest before they had to depart for Dewford in the morning. However, upon passing by the kitchen, she noted a ethereal blue glow emanating from around the corner. She peered inside and noticed Drew sitting at the dining table with his tablet and a glass of wine.

"Hey," Zoey cautiously greeted, coming into the room. Drew tiredly rose his eyes toward her.

"Oh―I didn't hear you come in," he said.

"What're you doing up?" Zoey asked. She half-teasingly added, "You can't be both a morning bird and a night owl. That's just unfair."

Drew stretched his arms behind himself.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered plainly.

"Why not?"

"Dunno." Drew tried to shrug off the question. "I just wanted to make sure you made it back safe."

The sentiment was touching, but Zoey was skeptical. She sensed there were other issues. Producing a doubtful "Uh-huh," Zoey sat across from him.

"How was it?" Drew asked politely.

"No worse than a post-Grand Festival affair," Zoey replied.

"So pretty awful."

Zoey laughed aloud at the remark, which she quickly stymied with a hand. May was likely asleep. Drew himself suppressed a chuckle and twirled the wine in his glass.

"Want some?" he offered. At that hour, with her traveling plans the next day, Zoey knew she should decline, but she found herself nodding with a "yes" and a "thank you" before she could think it through. Drew stood up and went to the cabinet to retrieve the bottle. Zoey leaned on her hand, watching him, contemplating him.

She thanked him again when he poured her a glass and took a modest sip. Then, emboldened, she asked, "So what's bothering you?"

"Bothering me?" Drew repeated with fairly convincing ignorance as he put the bottle away.

"Come on," Zoey egged him. "Training to 'clear your mind'? Drinking alone minutes before midnight? Something's up."

Drew settled into his chair again and stared at her wordlessly—for quite a while, too, but Zoey held firm. Drew eventually sighed and let out a short, half-hearted laugh.

"I hate how astute you are," he said.

"I am a reporter." Zoey smiled in a manner that she hoped was disarming. It worked: Drew inhaled and leaned forward, ready to heave his issues onto the table, and Zoey mutually leaned forward to indicate her concern.

"... May wants a baby," he confessed.

Zoey was not sure what she was expecting to hear, but she did not expect that. It did not surprise her that May wanted a baby; rather, it was more surprising that Drew's confession was so… expected. Of course May wanted a baby. Dawn and Iris now had them, Leaf was expecting, and it was only a matter of time before May started itching for one of her own.

"I've heard as much from the gossip mill," Zoey remarked lightly, remembering Nikki Martinez's "power couples" article. Seeing how serious Drew was, however, she added, "Do… you not want kids?"

"No—I mean," Drew quickly corrected himself. "Yes. I want to start a family with May. I've practically wanted to since I was 15. That's not so much the problem."

"What is?"

Drew leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He inhaled again, the words seemingly on the tip of his tongue, but they did not come with the sigh that followed. He struggled with himself a moment longer until Zoey intervened.

"Drew," she said gently. "We're friends here."

That finally swayed him.

"My father was an awful person. After I... left home…" He obviously had adjusted his own phrasing. Zoey could tell there was more to the story, but she again thought it wise not to push him for elaboration. "I hardly spoke to him for more than 10 years. The most time I spent with him in those years was while he was on his deathbed. I genuinely hated him."

Zoey sensed the direction of the conversation now and said, "You're not your father, Drew."

"I know," Drew quickly said. "But it's been on my mind lately."

Drew's posture changed, and his jaw sank into his hand. Zoey folded her arms together and watched him uneasily for a moment, contemplating what she ought to say.

"... It's probably a natural thing to think about," Zoey eventually said. "Most any father would be nervous before the birth of a child. The good ones, at least."

Drew offered no reaction. When it seemed none would come, Zoey shifted in her chair.

"... Candice wants to get married," she suddenly admitted. Drew snapped his gaze toward hers again, surprised. Zoey continued, "She's wanted to get married for a while, I think. But… I can't…"

Zoey shut her eyes and rubbed her temple, unsure of how to finish that thought.

"I can't be the fully devout spouse she deserves. I'm never around. I keep thinking about quitting my job, moving back to Snowpoint, and teaching at the academy so she and I can settle down." Zoey laughed bitterly before adding, "But here I am. I feel guilty about it almost every day. I love what I do, but I love Candice too. … Actually, I don't think I even love what I do right now. I'm traveling all the time with this new assignment, and I feel so restless. I'm in a rut with my writing—I'm bored; my work covering Junia Stevens has become tedious after only one month—but I can't pack it in. Homa's relying on me, and Candice would kill me. She'd be twice as upset if I explained I quit to be with her."

She stopped there, knowing she had started rambling. Silence followed. Drew cleared his throat.

"... Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I know you," Zoey said a little dryly. "And I know you hate feeling vulnerable, which is why you stopped talking. So I just bore my soul to you. Now we're equal."

Somehow, Drew found this funny, and he laughed.

"I don't know if I say it enough," he started, "but Arceus, am I glad I met you."

Zoey grinned.

"Back at you," she said. When the smiles and light chuckles subsided, Zoey leaned forward again and asked, "So? What are you going to do?"

Drew sucked in his breath.

"I think I just have to get over it," he said. "It's in my head. I know it is. And it would make May so, so happy."

"Not if she knew how hard a time you were having," Zoey pointed out. "She loves you. Talk to her about this. Tell her what you told me."

Drew scoffed.

"You ought to listen to your own advice," he said.

"Hm?"

"Quitting now is out of the question for you, right?" Drew asked. Zoey nodded. "Then just stick out the remainder of the election. You don't have to marry Candice right now, or even talk to her about all this now. She'll wait for you until then, and if you've truly grown miserable in your job, she'll support you leaving."

Zoey managed another smile.

"... You're right," she conceded. A pause. "And May will wait for you until you're ready, too."

Drew pursed his lips, but slowly nodded, seemingly agreeing. Zoey finished her wine and stood up.

"Thanks for talking—and for the alcohol," she said, "but I've got to go to bed. I'm leaving early."

"Yeah. Good night."

"Good night." Yet, Zoey stopped at the doorway and turned around again. "By the way… if it means anything to you, I'd think you'd made a great father."

Drew's lips twitched into a sort of half-smile, which was followed with a subdued, "Thanks."