Greg Abel denies allegations of sexual
misconduct, continues with plans for
Unova campaign events
Anthony Lugo, Election
Feb. 15, 2011
NIMBASA CITY, UNOVA—While speaking
to reporters outside his hotel Friday
morning, Greg Abel broke his silence on
recent allegations of sexual misconduct,
denying that he has ever behaved
"inappropriately with women."
"These false accusations are an effort by
my political opponents to undermine what
I stand for," Abel said. "It is, furthermore,
a distraction by the news media. It will not
slow down any planned campaign events as
some outlets have suggested."
Abel's troubles began with a bombshell
news report published Thursday in the
Hoenn Chronicle, in which former Battle
Tower employee Katarina Schaff described
Abel allegedly flirting with young female
subordinates, herself included, and making
sexually suggestive comments in the office.
Schaff also described an incident in which
Abel touched her knees, thighs, and
buttocks at an office party and pressured
her to come home with him. Schaff was a
17-year-old intern at the time.
The revelations sparked outrage online, with
the hashtag #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt
trending on Chatot. The online movement has
even drawn the attention of several prominent
trainers and other important figures, including
Abel's fellow La Rousse native, Drew Hayden.
"Why am I not surprised? #NotAbelToGet
AwayWithIt" Hayden Chatted with a link to
the Hoenn Chronicle's article.
Meanwhile, Rustboro City Gym Leader
Roxanne Neill Chatted, "Unacceptable. Abel
should drop out. #NotAbelToGetAwayWith
It."
Others have been willing to give Abel a
slight reprieve. Sinnoh Frontier Brain
Thorton Cardus Chatted, "As alarmed as we
should be by the new Hoenn Chronicle
report on Greg Abel, we must remember that
there are two sides to every story."
Despite the developing story, Abel's
campaign event in Opelucid City is still
scheduled to begin Saturday evening.
Follow the reporter Anthony Lugo at
ant_lugo on Chatot.
"So how is it that you ended up Junia's campaign manager?" Zoey asked, her pen still moving across the page as she finished up her notes from Satchel's last reply. "I know you two met each other through GAG, but that was more than a decade ago."
Satchel—sitting across from Zoey in a diner akin to the one where she and Marinda had met weeks earlier—did not hesitate in his response.
"It was my idea that she run, actually. I reached out to her and Marinda after I heard the news that the League was commissioning the election. It took a while to get things off the ground, but we did, and I naturally fell into the role of campaign manager."
"Why didn't you run, then?"
Satchel gave a small shrug, then said, "Junia was just the right fit for it of the three of us."
His answer intrigued Zoey. "So this campaign is—" She made a circular gesture with her hand. "—very much a mutual partnership between the three of you?"
"You could say that," Satchel conceded. "Junia, Marinda, and myself share near-identical ideals from our days in GAG."
"Uh-huh…" Zoey trailed off. "So, then, how does Dey fit into this?"
"Jennifer?" Satchel inquired, and Zoey nodded. "She, well…" He struggled for an answer, and Zoey knitted her eyebrows together; it was the first question on which he had wavered "She has certain skills and connections that I, Junia, and Marinda lack."
"Like?" Zoey prodded him.
"She's… politically savvy," Satchel said, and Zoey sensed this was a glazed answer. He then added, a little quickly, "It was actually Junia's idea to approach her."
Zoey hummed.
"Well, I don't suppose you would be able to help me set up a contact with her?"
"That's Marinda's field," Satchel said.
"I understand, but Marinda has indicated she's not willing to set up that contact," Zoey said. It was a bit of an understatement: Marinda had rather unsubtly implied she wanted nothing to do with Jennifer Dey.
"Then that's Marinda's prerogative," Satchel further deflected. Zoey had somewhat expected this response, but she still felt the sting of disappointment—and of frustration.
"I see," was all she said. A pause followed, and then, rising to her feet and extending her hand, she added, "Well, thank you very much for your time."
Satchel rose to shake her hand.
"The pleasure was mine," he said. "I presume I'll see you at tonight's event?
Zoey smiled wearily.
"Yes, you will."
Zoey leaned close to her hotel vanity as she guided the mascara brush through her lashes in long, careful strokes. She was almost finished, but her eye was on the time. Junia Stevens's event began in a half-hour, and though it was only a ten-minute walk to the venue, she wanted to be early.
Just as she slid her brush back into its tube, her phone chimed—a new email. She picked up the phone to check it and let out a long, placated sigh.
"Finally."She opened up the email and the attached file. She only skimmed through it, but immediately she knew something was off. She furrowed her eyebrows, closed the attachment, read through the email more closely, then closed the whole app and opened up her messenger.
Update: Charles Mook finally
sent me the files for Junia
Stevens and her subordinates.
Good to hear. I'll expect that
story from you soon then, as
soon as you interview Dey.
About that: Dey doesn't have
a file.
Delivered
After sending this message, Zoey checked the time once again. She needed to leave. She picked up Glameow's Poké Ball and turned to the Pokémon lazing on her bed.
"Come on, it's time to go," she said. Glameow glowered at her.
"You know the rules. I can't just leave you here," she said. Glameow stretched and stood up, willing herself to be let back into her Poké Ball. Zoey stowed it in her purse and promptly headed out the door, where she received Homa's follow-up text.
Did your contact forget to
send it?
No. He actually wrote in his
email that she does not show
up in the G-Men's database.
Hm. Go back to Leaf and ask
how unusual it is for a name
to be absent from the system.
You ought to bring it up with
Dey, too.
Noted.
Read 6:36 p.m.
...
Zoey was already down the elevator and on her way out the door when she finished up her conversation with Homa. As soon as she stepped outside, however, an involuntary shiver wracked her spine and caused her to pull her coat tighter around herself. The air had a sharp bite that immediately dried her throat and eyes. Although she was a Snowpoint native, she had little tolerance for the brutal windchill of Icirrus City.
Yet, there was no time to waste. As she started down the sidewalk, she closed her messenger app and opened up her contacts. With a deft couple swipes, she made it to the Gs, and Leaf's phone was ringing.
"What can I help you with, Zoey?" Leaf asked immediately after picking up. Zoey smirked, just a little, appreciative of Leaf's promptness, despite her presumption Zoey was only calling for a favor—even if she wasn't wrong.
"Your man finally sent me those files," Zoey remarked.
"What files?"
"The files I asked you about three weeks ago."
"Arceus, I forgot about that."
"I guess you weren't kidding when you said Mook was half-dead."
"What, so are you filing a complaint? It'll go to the same place as all other complaints: the trash." Leaf paused. "Don't quote me on that. That was a joke."
Zoey forced a laughed that quickly dissolved into a sigh.
"No, I'm not complaining," she said. "I just have a couple questions."
"On or off the record?"
"Off," Zoey answered. "This is just for my own information."
"O-kay. Go ahead, then."
"How extensive is the G-Men's database? Like, how many people are in it?"
"Millions," Leaf said. "I can't give you an exact number off the top of my head."
"That's fine," Zoey dismissed. "But it covers a broad spectrum of the population?"
"Well, yeah," Leaf answered plainly, as if it were obvious. "Who do you know who hasn't used a Pokémon Center?"
"Point taken."
A pause followed in the conversation—a mistake, Zoey realized, for the pause was just long enough to give Leaf a chance to think further on the implications of Zoey's inquiry. Her tone of her voice shifted, just slightly, and she asked, "What's this for?"
"Like I said, just for my own information," Zoey hastily answered. "I want to make sure I understand the context of the files Mook sent me before I use them in my reporting."
Zoey mentally crossed every finger and toe that this response would satisfy Leaf. After another pause, it finally did.
"Well, all right," Leaf said. "Is that all?"
"That's it," Zoey affirmed. "Thank you for your help."
"Good luck with the story."
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later."
Zoey hung up and held the phone close to her chest with a breath of relief. It was for the better Leaf didn't know about Dey's absent file if it was an anomaly, at least for now. Zoey couldn't be sure, but she imagined Leaf was probably still agitated about the database hack several months ago, and a missing file would ruffle her sensibilities—and potentially interfere with Zoey's work.
She had arrived. With a flash of her press badge, she was let inside without issue, and Zoey immediately set herself to the task of scouting out the area. The place was filled mostly by wealthy donors, a few whom Zoey recognized, a few whom she didn't. That didn't matter much to her, however. They were not the story.
Marinda Ortiz was the first she spotted; she stood afar in a black cocktail dress, nursing a glass of wine and chatting up Grimsley Astor, the retired Unova Elite Four member. Satchel Thompson was next: He was speaking with Ciara Skelley, and she had a notebook in hand. Zoey narrowed her eyes but looked away. She couldn't let it distract her.
Junia Stevens was nowhere in sight, but that was to be expected. She usually didn't appear until the event started. Zoey's main concern, then, was Jennifer Dey… but she was nowhere to be seen, either. Zoey casually perused the crowd trying to spot her, but in vain. Perhaps she was backstage with Stevens, though that was supposed to be Satchel's job.
With the eventual determination that Dey, as usual, simply wasn't around, Zoey resigned to seating herself on a stool at the event's open bar. The bartender came by and inquired if she wanted anything, but Zoey politely waved him off; she was still working.
"So… what are you moping about over here?"
Zoey sucked in a hissing breath and lolled her head over her shoulder. Ciara had occupied the seat beside her while she wasn't paying attention.
"What's it to you?" Zoey asked lightly.
"Just curious," Ciara said. "Although, I bet I can guess why."
"That so?"
"You're looking for Jennifer Dey," Ciara said. Zoey straightened up, and a wicked grin spread across Ciara's face. "I'm right, aren't I?"
Annoyed, Zoey ignored the question and instead asked, "What were you talking to Satchel Thompson for?"
"Same reason as you," Ciara said. "Thompson mentioned you had already interviewed him and Ortiz. If we can't get interviews with Junia Stevens, then we just have to interview the people around her. Dey included."
"Are you trying to intimidate me?" Zoey grumbled. She hated the thought that Ciara and The Sinnoan Times were emerging as competition, and she just wanted Ciara to leave her alone.
"Not at all," Ciara said. "I'm suggesting we work together. We're looking for the same thing, and I have information you don't have, and you have information I don't."
"Oh yeah?" Zoey raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Like what?"
It was a challenge—one that, much to Zoey's surprise, Ciara rose to accept.
"I know how Dey got that scar," Ciara teased.
"Ooh, boy, groundbreaking," Zoey said dryly. "You're a reporter now, Skelley, not a gossip."
"Dismiss me all you want, but you know nothing about Dey or her past, and you've got to start somewhere," Ciara said. Zoey pressed her lips together. As much as she did not want to admit it, Ciara had a point.
"All right, I'll bite," Zoey said. "How did Dey get the scar?"
"Some kind of airship accident," Ciara answered. "I don't have any details, but maybe you'll make some use of that information." Zoey frowned. It wasn't specific, but it was something. An airship accident… Maybe with some research and guesswork, Zoey could figure out what accident. Just as she began to ponder her options, Ciara interrupted her thoughts with, "Your turn."
Zoey hummed, thinking again. Ciara's lead, though vague, was new information, so it was only fair Zoey revealed one of the cards in her hand.
"Stevens, Thompson, and Ortiz all used to be a part of a group called GAG in college," Zoey said.
"GAG?" Ciara repeated.
"Yeah."
"What's it stand for?"
"Nothing," Zoey answered. "It's 'GAG' as in there's a 'gag' on STEM research. That was how Marinda explained it to me."
"Uh-huh…" Ciara mused doubtfully. Before she could say anything further, her cell phone chimed, and she reached into her purse to retrieve it. A quick glance at the screen was all it took for Ciara to utter a breathless, "Holy shit."
"What?" Zoey gave her a funny look, but without giving her a chance to answer, Zoey's own cell phone ringer went off—Homa was calling. Zoey was mystified and alarmed. She and Homa had just spoken; there had to be something serious happening.
"Yes, Homa?" Zoey picked up.
"I just got off the phone with Anthony Lugo," Homa said. "You need to get to Opelucid ASAP. There's a protest forming outside Abel's event."
"A protest? A protest for what?" Zoey asked.
"Against Abel. Another woman came forward with pretty credible allegations that Abel took advantage of her when she was 16 and paid her shut-up money. The Hoenn Chronicle just published the story maybe twenty minutes ago," Homa explained. "I need you to cover the protest while Anthony covers Abel."
"What about Dey?"
"On hold," Homa said. "This takes priority tonight."
Zoey sucked in her breath. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll find a way there."
Ciara had waited patiently as Zoey finished up her conversation, and as soon as she set her phone down, Ciara tilted her head and asked, "Need a ride? I've got a rental."
Zoey narrowed her eyes. "What do you want in exchange?" she asked.
"Nothing," Ciara said lightly. "Consider it an act of goodwill for the GAG lead."
Zoey was doubtful, but she had no choice. Time was ticking, and public transport would be slow and crowded—especially if people were pouring in for a protest.
An applause rose from the crowd; Junia had just emerged from backstage. Zoey looked that way and noticed Dey lurking nearby. The sunken scar on her face was prominent, even from a distance. Zoey raked her teeth over her bottom lip, frustrated, but met Ciara's expectant gaze again.
"Okay," Zoey said, resigned. "Let's go."
Zoey and Ciara spoke little during the twenty-minute car ride—with which Zoey was perfectly content because (a) she didn't want to talk to Ciara; (b) she had more important things to do than talk to Ciara, like find out as much as she could about the ongoing protest from a distance; and (c) silently agonize over the fact Ciara was looking to publish the same story as her, with the same sources, and now with the same information, since Zoey had exchanged the GAG bit for a vague lead on Dey and free transportation. At least, if both were at the protest, then neither were speaking to Dey, Zoey thought.
They made it downtown, and though they had yet to reach the event location, protesters with #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt signs and banners were already lining the streets. Ciara's driving had to slow to a crawl to accommodate for all the people crossing the street. Outside her window, Zoey could see a few officers on Zebristkas heading toward Abel's venue.
"Arceus, this is bigger than I thought," Ciara mused. "There probably hasn't been anything this big since those protests against Barry Pearl becoming a Sinnoh Frontier brain back in 2009."
Zoey ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, refusing to respond. She suspected Ciara was only trying to get a rise out of her with that remark.
"I wonder if we're going to see more of these now," Ciara went on.
"As long as Abel stays in the race, yeah," Zoey said.
"Sure, but I meant in general," Ciara said. "New democracies aren't very pretty."
Zoey didn't respond to this comment either, but she shifted slightly when she saw they were approaching a red light, where more protesters were crossing. "Let me off here," she said.
"The venue's another several blocks away," Ciara pointed out.
"I know," Zoey said flatly with no further elaboration. Ciara raised an eyebrow but shrugged.
"Suit yourself," she said. When the car rolled to a stop at the crosswalk, Zoey threw open the door, uttered a quick "thanks," and slammed the door shut again. As she walked away, she didn't let herself seethe for too long—there was work to be done. Zoey dialed Homa's cell, and she quickly answered.
"You got there quick," was Homa's immediate response when Zoey picked up.
"I got a ride with The Sinnoan Times." Zoey paused before adding, "More on that later."
"What're you seeing?"
"I'm not even at the venue yet, and there's a ton of protestors already around," Zoey answered.
"How's your phone battery?"
"I'm at about 80 percent."
"Good. Get your Chatot account ready, because you're using it tonight. I want you to live-Chat the protest."
"Okay."
"Send out an initial Chat, and I'll make sure the official Hearthome Chronicle account shares it."
"Okay," Zoey repeated, now just growing anxious to get off the phone.
"Stay safe out there."
"Thanks. I'll be fine," Zoey assured her. She hung up and opened up her Chatot: "I'm in Opelucid City covering the #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protest outside Greg Abel's campaign event. Follow me at zoey_williams for updates throughout the night."
As Homa promised, within minutes, she received a notification on her phone that hearthomechronicle had shared her Chat. From there, new followers started to pour in by the dozens, and Zoey was forced to turn off her Chatot notifications to avoid an inundation of bells and whistles.
A protestor—a young woman in her late teens with a Minccino on her shoulder—walked by carrying a sign that read "Vote for Science, not Pedophilia." A cutout of Junia Steven's face was plastered on the right side of the poster with a green checkmark beside her face, while a cutout of Greg Abel's face on the left was crossed out in red. The sign caught Zoey's attention, so she called out to her.
"Excuse me!" Zoey waved to her, and the young woman turned. "I'm Zoey Williams from the Hearthome Chronicle. Could I get a comment from you?"
"Uh, sure," the woman said, lowering her sign.
Zoey did her due diligence throughout the evening, She sent out pictures of signs, accompanied by quotes from protesters, posted videos of some of the crowd's chants, and, once she finally made it outside the venue, even briefly streamed an impassioned speech from the of the protest's organizers. All the while, however, her mind was elsewhere—miles away, still in Icirrus City.
She caught a glimpse of Ciara speaking with a different protestor several yards in the distance. Zoey gritted her teeth and looked away as she finished her latest Chat.
It bothered her that Ciara was researching and writing the same article as her. Part of it, Zoey knew, was because she utterly disliked Ciara and would dislike anything she did. Another less petty part of it, however, was the realization that if Ciara was writing this article, it was likely other publications were trying to do the same. So with every interview and every picture and every Chat that evening, the pressure of her emerging competition weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Zoey did try to reassure herself. Ciara was right; there were things she knew that no one else probably did, aside from GAG. Like what space archeology is. And that Jennifer Dey doesn't have a file in the G-Men's database.
"Hey." Zoey felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she breathed in sharply before spinning around to face a tall, dark-haired male. His round face was patterned with surprise, probably from her defensive reaction.
"Oh, Anthony," Zoey breathed. She had only met him in-person once or twice and knew him better by his byline than his face, but she still recognized him. "I thought Abel's event ended at 10. It's only—" She checked the time on her phone. "—9:17."
"Yeah, it ended early once some of Abel's protesters started getting into the venue. He's gone, probably a couple miles away from here by now," Anthony explained. "I was about to call Homa, but then I saw you. You might want to think about getting out of here. I heard over the police dispatch they're going to disperse the crowd soon. It might get ugly."
"Thanks for the concern," Zoey said, "but I'll stick it out. Good luck with your story tonight. I saw a cafe with wi-fi just a block away while I was moving up with protestors toward the venue."
"Thanks." Anthony nodded to her. "I'll look for it."
They parted ways. Within minutes, as Anthony had predicted, one of the Zebstrika-riding officers was moving into the crowd with a megaphone. Zoey opened her phone's camera, ready to record and Chat the inevitable resistance.
Dey was on her mind again. The Icirrus event would already be over by the time Zoey managed to get back. There would be no interview tonight. Or tomorrow, since there were no scheduled public events for Stevens on Sundays. In fact, there was no guarantee when she would ever be able to hold an interview with Dey, since she was almost always absent, and neither Marinda nor Satchel were willing to help set up a contact.
It seemed Dey was emerging as the bigger story than Junia Stevens, Zoey cynically thought, and the whole purpose for interviewing Dey was just so she could get a picture on who Stevens was.
Lost in her thoughts again, Zoey did not notice when the same Zebstrika-riding officer approached until he was in her face.
"Ma'am," he said, "you need to leave this area."
Zoey snapped back into reality.
"Sir, I'm with the Hearthome Chronicle," she said, pulling out her press badge. "I'm a journalist covering this event. I'm not a protester."
The officer squinted at her credentials under the light of the street lamp and then back at her.
"Ma'am, you need to go," he repeated. A pit started to form in Zoey's stomach, but she stood her ground.
"Sir, I'm a journalist," she repeated with more emphasis. "I have a right to be here to cover this event."
"Ma'am, I've asked twice now—" he said with warning.
"—I'm not leaving, sir," Zoey said firmly, though her heart was racing by then. She knew where this was heading. The officer's hard eyes studied Zoey a moment longer, and then he dismounted his Zebstrika.
"Very well," he said. "Ma'am, you're under arrest for refusal to disp—" Zoey closed her eyes tightly and sucked in her breath, blocking out the rest of his words as she turned around and willed herself to be placed in handcuffs.
There were more than 100 protesters arrested and taken in, Zoey would later learn. She did have a sense it was around that number, as she was just one person being held among multiple police vans at the scene. Her informal headcounts only served as a means to distract herself from dissolving into panic.
All of her personal items had been confiscated. It was to be expected, she knew, but without her cell phone, she couldn't call Homa to let her know she was in trouble. She would have to wait until her booking at the police station was complete, and given the amount of people arrested, it was going to be a long time before she had access to a phone. She was holding onto the hope that the sudden moratorium in her Chats would indicate something was wrong, but that assumed Homa was watching her Chatot account and not editing Anthony's story.
And without a cell phone, she couldn't call Candice either. A reporter's arrest would probably make the news—for multiple publications, not just the Hearthome Chronicle—and Zoey did not want Candice to find out her girlfriend had been arrested from anyone other than her.
The worst of the whole situation, though, wasn't that her items had been confiscated; it was that her Pokémon had been taken, too. Glameow was also being held by the police, and the separation was agonizing. She and Glameow had been together since she was a child and Glameow was a kitten; the reason she had chosen Glameow out of all her Pokémon to accompany her on the campaign trail was because they had never separated since then, and to be forced apart now was gut-wrenching.
Finally, the police seemed to be done filling Zoey's paddywagon. A girl was shuffled into the back, wearing zip ties around her wrists rather than handcuffs—the police had presumably run out of the latter—and the door was closed behind her. The girl sat beside Zoey, who quickly recognized her as the young women with the pro-Stevens sign she had interviewed earlier.
The young woman apparently recognized Zoey, too, because she looked at Zoey and said, "Hey, aren't you that reporter from the Hearthome Chronicle?"
"That's me," Zoey confirmed. A large, gruff man sitting across the aisle suddenly spoke up.
"What the fuck?" he swore aloud, and Zoey winced in surprise. "You can't arrest a reporter!" He suddenly pressed his face up against the window separating them from the drivers. "Hey, assholes! You can't arrest a reporter! That's a violation of the right to a free press!"
"Yeah, well," another, younger man grumbled. "To arrest protesters is also a violation of the right to assemble, and yet, here we all are."
A cacophonous argument rose up, and Zoey groaned before closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall. It was going to be a long night.
Down at the station, she and the rest of the protesters were uncuffed—or cut loose of their zip ties—and shuffled inside to fill out some rudimentary paperwork: full name, address, birth date, the usual. And then, one by one as they finished their forms, they were shuffled into one of two gender-divided holding areas.
Zoey was, again, one of the first inside. She took up residence on a cold metal bench, figuring she ought to get comfortable—which was difficult, considering she was certain the bench was designed to be uncomfortable. And then she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
A new protester was ushered into the holding area every few minutes. The cell gradually became more packed, to the point where Zoey was eventually pushed off the bench. She decided it was easier to stand than be stuck together like a school of Wishiwashi on the bench anyway.
She waited some more.
Zoey occupied herself with some pointless arithmetic. All told, a total of 56 women were jammed into the holding area. Zoey wondered: How long would it take for their paperwork to be processed? She supposed it depended on how many people her arresting officer had taken in.
More waiting.
She was starting to feel hungry, and her feet were sore. She had been on them all evening downtown, and her shoes weren't exactly protest-ready—she had dressed for a semi-formal fundraiser, not an outdoor event.
"Zoey Williams?"
Zoey jerked her head up. The local Officer Jenny was standing at the front of the cell. Zoey pushed her way through the crowd to meet her.
"Yes?" she inquired once reaching her. "I'm Zoey Williams."
"Your paper's lawyer called," Jenny explained. "You're being released with no charges. We still need to process your items to return them, but we can have you wait out front."
An immense sense of relief washed over Zoey. Homa had come through even before she could reach out to her. Zoey didn't know how, but she was glad regardless.
"Thank you," Zoey said as Jenny unlocked the door and let her out.
Zoey called Homa first at a private phone booth near the front of the station. It was a struggle to remember her number without the contact list in her cell phone, but she managed to get it after a few initial misdials.
"Hello?" Homa inquired when she picked up.
"Homa, it's Zoey," Zoey said, feeling a second deluge of relief at hearing a familiar voice.
"Finally," Homa breathed. "Are you out yet?"
"Sort of," Zoey said. "My items haven't been processed yet. I'm still at the station waiting to get them."
"Okay, good. Tell me what happened."
The command—gently, though firmly given—triggered an uncharacteristic, jumbled rush of words. Zoey spared no detail, starting from the moment she left Ciara's car, and the more she said, the faster she spoke. At several points, Homa told her to stop or slow down. Zoey realized Homa was probably taking notes, and she knew exactly why.
With a breath, Zoey finished her story at the moment Officer Jenny had let her out of the holding cell. A long pause followed, and it was then Zoey faintly heard the scribble of a pencil against paper, confirming her initial beliefs. Homa then sighed, and the exhaustion was evident in her voice.
"Well, to start," she said, "You did everything you were supposed to. I'm proud that you stood your ground."
"Thank you," Zoey tamely replied.
"The editorial board has called an emergency meeting and is writing an editorial on this tonight," Homa carefully added.
"I figured as much."
"Are you okay with that?"
"I'm fine," Zoey said. "You know, I'd rather it have not happened at all, but it did, and I think it's important the Hearthome Chronicle write about it. Could I ask that nothing be run until I call my—" She stopped for a moment; she was about to say "girlfriend," but she didn't want to be too revealing. "—my family?"
"How long do you need?"
"Ten minutes. Not even."
"Okay, I understand," Homa said. "I'll give you some time."
"Homa?" Zoey inquired before she could hang up.
"Hm?"
"Thank you." She didn't elaborate; she didn't have to explain. The gratitude that filled her voice was genuine, and for so many reasons.
"No need to thank me," Homa said. "It's my responsibility to look after my staff. You should thank that reporter from The Sinnoan Times, though."
"That reporter?" Zoey repeated inquisitively.
"I can't remember her name now," Homa admitted. "She tipped us off about your arrest, though. She called from the scene. That's how I was able to get in contact with our legal team and get the charges dropped as quickly as we did."
"... Was her name Ciara Skelley?" Zoey asked incredulously.
"Yeah, that was it."
Zoey was stunned. She sank into her chair a little, processing this development.
"Everything okay?" Homa asked.
"Uh, yeah," Zoey said, straightening up again. "I just remembered: There was something I wanted to talk to you about."
"What?"
"Ciara Skelley's working on the same story as me," Zoey said. "I know for sure she's interviewed Ortiz and Thompson already. I think we need to run my story without Dey, or The Sinnoan Times will. I'll keep working on Dey and Stevens, but now we're in a race. I can review the files I got from the G-Men tonight and add them to my draft, then make sure it's to you in the morning."
"Arceus, Zoey, you just got out of jail, and you're thinking about this?"
"Hear me out," Zoey pressed.
"I do hear you," Homa said, exasperated, "and you're right."
"I—What?" Zoey hadn't expected that response.
"We should run the story now," Homa agreed. "Don't write it tonight though. You've had a long enough night, and The Sinnoan Times isn't going to run the story before morning. Is that all?"
"Yeah," Zoey said. "Thanks."
"Then I'll leave you to call your family. Keep me posted."
"I will."
After hanging up, Zoey rubbed tiredly at her eyes. She leaned out of the booth just to check the wall clock. It was nearly midnight in Unova. It would approaching… 3 or 4 a.m. in Sinnoh. She couldn't remember the exact time difference. She should've asked Homa.
Ah, well. It was too late now. Zoey laid her head against the wooden cubby to collect herself. No matter how late the hour, she knew Candice would pick up. She always did. And Zoey wanted to know what she was going to say.
She removed the phone from the hook again. Candice's number she knew by heart.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three.
Candice answered.
"Hello?" Her voice was incredibly groggy.
"Hey, Candice," Zoey said gently.
"Zoey?" Candice's tone audibly perked up. "It's the middle of the night! Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine now," Zoey answered. "But I needed to talk to you."
"What's the matter?" Candice's voice was now brimming with concern. The sound needled guilt into Zoey's gut.
"I just want to preface this by, again, saying that everything's fine now," Zoey said, "but I did get arrested."
"What?!" If Candice wasn't awake before, she certainly was now. "What happened?"
"In sum, I was covering a protest in Opelucid, and when the police ordered that the crowd disperse, I was mistakenly grouped in with the protesters," Zoey explained. She briefly paused before adding, "There are no charges being filed. One of the Chronicle's lawyers straightened it out. The Opelucid police force is probably going to have a PR headache in the morning because Homa and the rest of the board are together now writing an editorial."
"Arceus."
"Yeah." Zoey smiled faintly. "I thought I was through being a headline. Guess not."
"Well, the important thing is you're safe," Candice said. "Where are you now?"
"I'm still at the station. I'm waiting to get Glameow and my things back."
"They took Glameow?!" Candice was aghast.
"They confiscate your Pokémon when you're arrested."
"Ugh," Candice growled. "That makes me so mad. You did nothing wrong!"
"I know," Zoey tiredly replied. "I'm not mad about it anymore. It's just been a long day."
"Yeah… Well, thanks for calling to let me know." She paused, thinking. "Wait… Weren't you supposed to be in Icirrus tonight?"
"I was. Homa called me down to Opelucid when the protest started," Zoey said.
"Is your hotel in Icirrus? How are you getting back tonight?"
Zoey had yet to even consider this with everything that had happened that evening. She supposed she could check if any local public transport was still running after midnight, or perhaps she could call a cab. Homa would probably ensure she was reimbursed for her trouble. Still, exhaustion was setting in, and Zoey was sort of toying with the idea of getting an additional room somewhere in Opelucid and then heading back to Icirrus early tomorrow.
"I'll figure it out," Zoey eventually said.
"Well, okay…" Candice hesitantly agreed. "Will you call me again in the morning?"
"Of course."
"Thanks. Love you. Take care of yourself."
"I love you too. Good night."
After the call ended, Zoey called Homa back to OK her on publishing the Chronicle's editorial, then dragged herself back to the front desk to do, well, more waiting. At least she wasn't in a cell anymore, but she could hear the protestors faintly chanting through the walls. She slumped into a chair and, with time, started to drift in and out of consciousness. Each time she jolted back awake, she would check the digital clock sitting on the counter. Time seemed to be inching forward more slowly than ever before.
Just as Zoey began to nod off again, her name was called.
"Ms. Williams?"
Zoey went rigid, sitting way up. "Yes?' she responded. It was the guard manning the counter who had spoken to her. In his hands was a plastic, gray basket which held her bag and all her possessions—and most importantly, her Glameow.
Zoey let out a long breath before jumping to her feet to retrieve the bag. "Thank you," she said with immense sincerity. Reflecting back, she realized it was strange to thank the officer when the force had been responsible for placing her in that situation, but in that moment, she was so grateful just to have Glameow back that she didn't give it a second thought.
And she didn't wait a second more, either. As soon as she took back her bag, she reached inside and pulled out Glameow's Poké Ball, releasing her right in front of the desk. Upon her appearance, Glameow mewled and leapt into her trainer's arms.
"I'm so sorry, Glameow," Zoey said, stroking the back of her Pokémon's head. Glameow gently licked her cheek, accepting the apology.
She physically carried Glameow out, now starting to think more seriously about what she would do for the evening. Getting another room in Opelucid, while a little more costly, was looking like a pretty good option. But when Zoey stepped outside, her tentative plans all flew out the window. She gaped at first, but quickly closed her mouth again as her lips wriggled into a smile.
Cilan Griffith was outside the station, leaning against the side of his car, waiting for her. He waved, and Zoey quickly strode toward him to give him an embrace. She wasn't at all a huggy person, but she wanted a hug right then, not only because she was so deeply appreciative and wanted to show it, but also because she just… needed the comfort. Cilan gladly wrapped a warm arm around her waist and pulled her in, without squishing Glameow between them.
"What are you doing here?" Zoey asked when she pulled back. Cilan smiled gently at her.
"Candice called," he said. "I heard you might need a place to stay tonight."
It took some time for Zoey's mind to catch up with her, and at some point on the ride to the former Opelucid Gym, it occurred to Zoey that maybe it would be a good idea to send out a Chat explaining she had been arrested but was safe now—especially considering the Hearthome Chronicle's editorial board was writing an op-ed about the situation at that very moment.
With Glameow safely nestled in her lap, Zoey retrieved her cell phone, opened her Chatot app, and typed out a simple message: "I was arrested tonight at the Opelucid protest, but all is well now, and no charges have been filed. Details to come via hearthomechronicle soon."
She clicked "Send" and set the phone aside, telling herself she wouldn't pick it up again for the rest of the evening.
"So there are no charges being filed?" Cilan inquired with conversational concern.
"Hm? Oh, no," Zoey said. "That's all been taken care of."
"That's good, at least," Cilan said. Zoey caught a glimpse of a gentle smile as they drove under a yellow streetlight. He directed his gaze forward, toward the road again, before adding, "You know, of all the people from our group who would be arrested, I thought you would have been the last."
"That so?" Zoey said with trifle of amusement. "Who's the first?"
"Oh, I don't know. Probably Barry," Cilan answered.
Zoey knew, internally, he meant no malice by his determination. Still, it struck enough of her suspicion for her to ask, "What for?"
He shrugged, then said, "Disturbing the peace. Considering this is the same person who mixed an energy drink with coffee."
Zoey laughed. She wasn't sure why she felt any doubt at all.
"You remember that, huh?"
"How could I forget?" Cilan tiredly laughed, too.
They arrived at the former Opelucid City Gym. Zoey dragged herself out of the car, carrying Glameow with her. She followed Cilan inside, and they headed up the elevator to the living quarters together.
Zoey was surprised to see Iris awake and waiting for them. She let Glameow out of her arms this time as Iris came to embrace her. Zoey gratefully accepted her into her arms.
"I heard you've had a pretty crazy night," Iris said after pulling away.
"I've had crazier nights," Zoey said lightly, wearing a smile. "We've had crazier nights," she added, gesturing between herself, Iris, and Cilan.
Iris let out a breathy laugh. "True," she conceded.
"You didn't have to stay up for me," Zoey went on.
Iris waved her hand dismissively. "There was no way I could've gone back to sleep after Candice called. Besides, Cicily is recovering from a cold, and she's fussy and keeping us up every night anyway." It was then that Zoey discerned the bags beneath her eyes and frazzled ends of her hair: the haggard appearance of a new parent. Cilan had the same look, but Zoey had initially attributed it to him waking up in the middle of the night to get her. The realization made her feel doubly grateful.
"Well—thank you regardless. I really appreciate it," Zoey said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "I'm sorry to hear Cicily's been sick. You'll have to officially introduce me to her before I leave."
"Of course," Cilan agreed. "But let's get you settled in for the night."
He showed her and Glameow to the guest room and with a few amicable parting words left her for the evening. As soon as he shut the door, Zoey sighed and collapsed onto the bed. She kicked off her shoes and pressed her hands to her eyes and laid there for just a few minutes. It had to be nearly 1 a.m. by then. She threw her arms on either side of her and lolled her head toward the glowing digital clock on the nightstand. Actually, it was past 1 a.m.
Zoey realized she didn't have any pajamas on her, so she ended up just stripping down to her undershirt and boyshorts. She carelessly tossed her slacks and blouse to the ground.
The moment she pulled the covers over herself, however, she found herself unable to remain still. Although every bone in her body was sore with exhaustion and her eyes stung with a heavy need for sleep, the adrenaline that still lingered in her veins rendered her unable to relax. She resisted the feeling at first; she tossed around in bed, wanting to expend the restiveness so she could find, well, rest.
Glameow, meanwhile, had curled up on the corner of the bed and immediately gone to sleep. Zoey looked at her enviously but eventually gave up. Although she had told herself she wouldn't pick her phone up again, she found herself reaching for it on her nightstand. She turned it on, and the screen cast an ethereal blue glow across her face.
She flipped aimlessly through her apps for a short while, unsure what she wanted to do, other than she wanted to keep herself occupied. She at least knew she didn't want to be on Chatot; she could imagine her account was exploding with activity given her latest Tweet, and reading other users' reactions would only wind her up more and make it impossible to sleep.
Junia Stevens crossed her mind again. Homa had told Zoey not to work on the profile that evening. But, then again, Zoey had also told herself she wouldn't be on her phone again. She opened up her email account and found the documents Charles Mook had sent her. The first attachment she opened was the one of greatest interest.
Full Name: Junia E. Stevens — DOB: 1 March 1977 — Hometown: Floaroma Town
Registered Pokémon
Bronzong
Dustox (M)
Girafarig (F)
Golbat (F)
Golduck (M)
Rapidash (F)
Skuntank (F)
Weavile (M)
History
Lily of the Valley Conference (1989)
Awards/Honors
N/A
The document ended there. Zoey pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Finally, she knew Junia Stevens's hometown: Floaroma Town. She also had no idea Junia Stevens had participated in the Sinnoh League—an interesting but likely unimportant fact. Zoey vaguely wondered if this was a typical file, or if there was usually more information available, so she opened another file: her own.
Full Name: Zoey Williams — DOB: 14 May 1985 — Hometown: Snowpoint City
Registered Pokémon
Gallade (M)
Gastrodon (F)
Glameow (F)
Leafeon (M)
Lumineon (F)
Mismagius (F)
Raichu (M)
History
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2000)
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2001)
Sinnoh Grand Festival (2003)
Hoenn Grand Festival (2004)
Kanto Grand Festival (2006)
Johto Grand Festival (2007)
Awards/Honors
Sinnoh Top Coordinator (2001)
Wallace Cup Winner (2005)
Johto Top Coordinator (2007)
Zoey was impressed: The history was comprehensive and covered all major events she had participated in. Looking at her file and Junia's file side by side, she could draw a few conclusions: (1) She had definitely had a more active career as a trainer than Junia Stevens. But it certainly wasn't unheard of for trainers to only participate in one league or grand festival and then move on to other things; (2) Junia Stevens's file, therefore, wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't glaringly incomplete or lacking information compared to a "normal" file. Zoey wasn't sure what she expected to find in all this, but given the oddly protective behavior of all of Junia's high-ranking campaign staffers, she half-expected there be something weird in her history that they didn't want others to know.
Zoey began to look through the other requested files—Satchel's and Marinda's, namely—but slowly began to feel her eyes growing more and more heavy. Finally, she set her phone on the nightstand again, prepared to go to sleep. Then the distant cries of an infant tore through the air. Zoey let out a long sigh and turned in her bed, mentally trying to block out the noise.
It was no use. Within minutes, Zoey was out of bed again and heading toward the living room. If she was going to be awake anyway, she might as well keep her equally sleep-deprived hosts company.
She found Iris in the living room, attempting to soothe the fussy child. Iris immediately sensed Zoey's arrival, and she jerked her head up the moment after she entered the room.
"Oh—I'm sorry," Iris said. "Did she wake you up?"
"Oh no," Zoey hastily replied. "I was up anyway, and I thought to check on you."
Iris smiled tiredly. "Well, thanks," she said. "Cilan was gonna be up with me too, but he has class in the morning, so I told him to stay in bed."
"At least one of you should get some sleep anyway," Zoey offered.
"Yeah…" Iris looked down, cradling Cicily in her arms. "It's normally not this tough. She's usually really quiet and easy to take care of, for a baby at least. Cilan and I are lucky."
"You deserve some luck after everything you've been through."
Iris cracked another smile. She silently invited Zoey to sit down with a gesture of her hand. Zoey took her up in the offer, situating herself in an armchair across from the new mother.
"So how's everything been going for you?" Iris asked. "I mean, aside from getting arrested."
Zoey let out a hoarse laugh then sighed.
"It's frustrating work," she said. "I much prefer talking to cute rookie coordinators than dealing with politicians."
"I can only imagine," Iris laughed too.
A thought then occurred to Zoey, and she asked, "Were you upset when Adalet resigned to run? I know you spent a really long time trying to find someone to head the Unova G-Men."
"Oh—no." Iris shook her head. "I encouraged him to run."
Zoey's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Yeah," Iris answered. "He's got the support of most of the Champions actually. Even Paul's come around, I think. The one exception might be Leaf. She's still on the fence about him. She can hold a grudge for an awfully long time if she wants, and the pregnancy hormones probably aren't helping."
Zoey was intrigued by this information—all things she never would have heard talking to any other Champion, either for lack of personal relevance (she couldn't even think of holding an in-depth conversation about politics with Ash), pursuit of fairness (Max, she imagined, would take his role of impartiality very seriously), fear of public reprisal (Leaf knew Zoey was a journalist with publishing power), or because they were plain antisocial (Paul). Iris was different. She maintained no pretenses. It was because of that Zoey cautiously probed further.
"If I may ask, why Adalet?" she said.
"Because he gets it," Iris said. "He knows why we're doing this. He's been on the inside."
"I see…" Zoey mused, glancing down.
"What about you? Where do you stand on all of this?" Zoey's eyes rose toward Iris again in surprise. With a smile, Iris apologetically added, "Oh, is that too personal? I won't tell anyone."
Zoey cracked a smile. "No, it's not that," she said. "It's just that people usually ask what I think about Junia Stevens. I haven't really thought about how I'm going to vote." It surprised her to say it: It hadn't occurred to her until that very moment, but even in all her political reporting, she had given little consideration on how she would cast her own ballot come the election.
"Well, what do you think of Junia Stevens?" Iris asked. "I bet you know her better than most, following her so closely."
"You'd be surprised," Zoey said wearily. "She's a bit of an enigma." Zoey suddenly found herself wanting to change the subject, for she realized she was easing into dangerous territory. Iris was far less uptight than Leaf, sure, but it probably wasn't a good idea for her to know about the questions Zoey had on Junia Stevens and her adviser's missing file—not yet at least. So, out of an abundance of caution, Zoey inclined her head toward Iris and remarked, "It looks like Cicily's calmed down again."
Iris blinked and glanced down at the child in her arms. Cicily was asleep—or at least very close to it.
"Yeah…" The relief was evident in Iris's voice. She looked up at Zoey again. "Do you want to see her?"
Zoey grinned. "Of course," she answered, switching from the armchair to the sofa on which Iris sat. She looked carefully over Iris's shoulder at the infant, breathing just a little slower now.
"Wow," Zoey remarked in just above a whisper. "She's a perfect mix of you and Cilan."
Iris briefly flicked a genuine smile at Zoey then looked down at her daughter again. "Cress says the same thing," she said. "Not Chili, though. He thinks she looks more like Cilan."
"Well, yeah, of course you can see Cilan in her," Zoey said. "But I see you in her, too."
With Cicily asleep, the conversation drifted off into softer tones that eventually led to both women retiring to bed. Zoey collapsed into her sheets, accidentally disturbing Glameow as she did. She uttered a quick apology to the Pokémon, who harrumphed in response but quickly went back to sleep—and her trainer soon followed suit.
Zoey woke to at least a dozen messages on her phone—from Dawn, from Ash, from Drew, from Trip, from even Paul of all people, just to name a few. It seemed everyone she had ever known was blowing up her phone, and in her exhausted daze, she was initially confused why. Then she remembered: Oh, yeah. She had been arrested last night. The Hearthome Chronicle must have published the editorial, and word had spread.
While still laying in bed, she idly responded to a few of the messages she received: She reassured May she was fine, thanked Misty for thinking about her—and it soon occurred to her that maybe she ought to read the editorial.
She stopped avoiding the inevitable and opened her Chatot. Sure enough, she had more than a hundred notifications on her account. The very first Chat she saw on her feed was one from Drew, writing, "The arrest of reporter zoey_williams at the #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protest last night is unacceptable—we need a free press now more than ever with an emerging democracy."
Zoey internally groaned. She flicked her finger to scroll further down the feed. Ritchie had Chatted a link to the very thing she sought to read: "Editorial: #NotAbelToGetAwayWithIt protests first test of our new democracy—and it failed with our reporter's arrest last night."
Zoey felt a pit form in the bottom of her stomach. It was the same sort of anxiety that she felt right before her arrest—the sense that she was about to be pulled into a mess from which she wouldn't be able to escape unscathed.
She changed her mind. She made the conscious decision not to read it.
Zoey ended up catching a cab to Icirrus City. Cilan was insistent he drive her back after breakfast, saying Burgundy would take over his class, but Zoey was equally insistent he not inconvenience himself when he had already done so much for her. Zoey's persistence won out in the end.
Checkout was only an hour away when Zoey finally made it to her hotel room. Despite the chaos of the previous evening, she had to keep going. There was one more Unovan event in Mistralton City, and then it would be off to Johto and Kanto. She changed into a fresh set of clothes—there was no time for a shower, so it would just have to wait until she arrived in Mistralton—and quickly packed up her things before heading down to the lobby for check-out.
A small queue had formed at the front desk, and Zoey was stunned when she noticed a familiar face at the end of it.
"Ciara?"
Ciara turned toward her with a raised eyebrow then put on her usual haughty smile.
"Well, good morning, Zoey," she said.
"I didn't realize you were staying here, too."
"Mhm," Ciara hummed. "So, make any of use of my lead on Dey?"
Zoey was initially confused what she meant—Jennifer Dey was the last thing on her mind at the moment—when she suddenly realized Ciara was referring to the tip on where Dey acquired her scar.
"Uh… no," Zoey replied.
Ciara hummed again. "Well, that's disappointing," she said. It was her turn in line. She turned away from Zoey, who stood baffled. She wasn't going to bring up last night? Was Homa mistaken?
Ciara slid her keys across the desk toward the clerk, then faced Zoey again. "I'll keep working on your GAG lead while you focus on Dey's past, okay?"
Zoey wasn't sure when this arrangement was ever made, but she was still so struck that she said nothing as Ciara started to walk away. Zoey turned her head to watch her go and found her voice again.
"Ciara!" she called out to her. Ciara turned on her heel, looking at Zoey expectantly. "I…" Zoey started, sounding unsure. "Thank you for calling my editor."
Ciara pressed her lips together but managed a smile—a genuine one.
"I'll see you in Mistralton," she said.