Author's Note: I believe it's time to give credit where credit is due!

To FinalPower, for submitting the charming Morgen Gedeon;
to meteorce, for your submission of the remarkable Angel Diffido;
to StallsalotHB, for giving me permission to use Harry Bo Whitestar;
to aggies2015, for letting me use Jared Knighton;
to Something dictionary related, for submitting the fiery Iona Pepper Cza;
to Shadow Serenity 57, for submitting Cassandra Pierce (who is introduced in this chapter);
and to Reaper of Books, for allowing me to use Klaüs Sen!

Now, there are still a few original submissions that have yet to be revealed, but rest assured that they will add some excitement to the story!

The Reaper, the Hunter and the Shade: An Interlude

Garren scowled into his coffee cup, watching with vague interest as the steam twined through the air in an upward spiral. It had been nearly five years since he had set foot inside one of Lumiose City's cafes, and under better circumstances he might have enjoyed the visit.

"Cream or sugar?" The waitress was a plump older woman, with flecks of red in her pepper-gray hair and the musky scent of cigarettes on her breath. There were many lines etched in her sagging face that, if he dared to look closer, whispered to him about years of hard work and long-buried regrets.

Garren waved her off, his scowl deepening as he lifted the steaming cup to his lips and took a sip. The coffee was bitter, and left tiny grains on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't mind. He liked the bite that came with drinking it black.

As he set the cup back down on the matching dessert plate with a soft clink, his blue eyes surveyed the cityscape around him. Taxis sped by, toting their passengers down North Boulevard in a frenzy as well-dressed citizens walked to and fro, some with briefcases in hand and all with a look of comfortable ease pasted on their faces. A group of kids rolled past the cafe window on bikes and roller skates, laughing as they played tag or raced or did whatever it was that kids these days were doing. Garren watched them until they were gone from view, and for a moment he found himself reminiscing on his childhood—or, rather, lack thereof. He took another sip of his coffee, this time savoring the bitterness on his tongue until that moment had passed.

"Hello, Garren." The voice was pinched, as if its owner was only able to breathe from one nostril, but its nails-on-chalkboard effect was unmistakable. Forcing a grin, Garren set his coffee down as he turned around to greet the newcomer.

The young lady standing before him had not aged a day since he had last seen her, some seven years ago. Her mousy brown hair, always pulled into a tight bun atop her round head as he recalled, was tucked loosely beneath a black knitted baseball cap, and her long legs were accentuated by a short black pencil skirt and black stiletto-heeled pumps. A thick gold watch adorned her left wrist, matching the golden buttons on her black blazer, and she had painted on bright red lipstick and a mocha-brown eyeshadow that did surprisingly little to help her brown eyes stand out. "Cassandra Pierce," Garren said as he looked her up and down. "Good to see that your sense of style hasn't changed."

Cassandra, in turn, glanced at his appearance with a content smirk. "And I'm glad to see that yours has stepped up! T-shirts and ripped jeans never did suit your figure, sweetie."

"What can I say? I was young." Garren brushed a palm along the front of his dark blue blazer as he nodded to the empty seat across from him. "Care to join me?" He motioned for the waitress as Cassandra grinned and slipped into the chair. "So, how's business been?"

Cassandra thanked the plump woman as she poured some cream into her coffee cup before leaving to attend to her other patrons. "It's been busy," she replied as she stirred in a few packets of sugar. "Management's been having us push pretty hard lately, but it keeps me on my toes." Garren wrinkled his nose in disgust as she took a small sip of the milky sweetness. "In fact," she continued as she set down her cup and leaned forward, "the Syndicate's looking to expand their reach even further in Kalos. And there's talk that they might move me up to help supervise the expansion!"

"So you finally learned to sell the product instead of snort it." Garren smirked as Cassandra shot him a glare that would turn any other man to stone. "And it only took seven years. I guess miracles do exist."

"We were all naive little Shades once, Garren." Cassandra relaxed her brow as she eased back into her chair. "I seem to recall a certain someone who ingested just as much Black Dust as me, back in the day. And look at him now." Her red lips curled into a devilish grin as she raised the coffee cup to her mouth. "That reminds me," she said, pointing to the three faint scars that lined the side of his face—a gift from Rhodette Harker, if memory served her well. "How're your collections coming along these days?"

The scowl returned to Garren's face as he turned his attention back to the window. Everyone knew of his plight, it seemed. In truth, he had not had another Reaping in quite some time. It had been a hard climb for him after the Harker boy had escaped. After they had punished him accordingly for his failure, they exiled him to the Johto region where he was allowed to perform menial tasks under strict supervision—Rolan, he had learned, had been reassigned. Garren had not felt the exhilarating rush of taking a life in over two years, and that emptiness hurt him more than anything. Retribution for his mistake had come at a high price, but he has since paid his dues.

"Debts are being paid," he said after a while. His knee had begun to throb again, a constant reminder of his learning experience as a fledgling Reaper and of the consequences that followed with one wrong step. "What difference does it make if I'm the one collecting or not?"

"Did the little Reaper lose his scythe?" a voiced interrupted, drawing Garren's attention back to the cafe's interior. A slender youth in a black-and-yellow blazer with dark hair and olive skin stood just behind where Cassandra was seated. He flashed Garren a grin, a gleam twinkling in his green eyes that the Reaper found unsettling. "Pity, you could've used it for a crutch."

Cassandra raised a brow as she tilted her head in the stranger's direction. "I'm sorry, and you are?" There was an edge of annoyance in her tone that made Garren smirk. Classic Cassandra.

The boy glanced at her, his grin faltering at her nasally voice, and shrugged. "I'm no one of consequence."

This answer did not seem to satisfy Cassandra. If she had fur, Garren was certain that her hackles would be raised. "When you butt in on a private conversation," she hissed, her nostrils flaring, "it becomes of consequence."

"Cassandra, please!" Garren quipped, his eyes never leaving the boy. "We're all family, here." He then motioned to the last empty seat at their table. "Sit. Chat with us awhile."

The youth nodded and slid into the chair. "At least the Reaper hasn't forgotten his courtesies." Cassandra fumed, but to her credit she remained silent. "Now," he began as he waved the waitress off and folded his lanky arms across the table. "I believe we were discussing debts?"

Garren hesitated, slowly sipping his coffee as he studied the boy. He was a young lad, no more than seventeen, yet he carried himself in a worldly manner as one who has seen and done many a terrible thing. He would have to be cautious with this one, at least until he knew more about his intentions. "And what do you know of debts, boy?"

The kid adopted a look of mock pain, furrowing his brow in an overly-dramatic effect. "You wound me, Mr. Reed!" He grinned at Garren's perplexed look as he continued. "I know plenty about debts, especially"—he winked at the Reaper, sending a cold chill up his spine—"when it involves the Harker boy."

Cassandra leaned back and sipped at her coffee, smirking as she glanced between the two. She always did enjoy a good show, and though she did have to hand it to Garren for keeping his composure, watching him squirm was such a sweet sight for her.

Garren cleared his throat, setting his coffee down and staring squarely at the boy. This kid knew his name, he knew his rank, and he knew the name of the person responsible for his ruination—details that were privy only to a select few, and details this youth should not have known. This unnerved Garren tremendously. "Who are you?"

The boy flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes with a finger, returning Garren's glare with a chilling grin. "Some people call me Klaüs, but I prefer to go by Jailer. It sounds more imposing, don't you think?"

Cassandra nearly spewed out her coffee as she turned to look at the boy, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You're a Hunter?"

"Ssh." Klaüs pressed a thin finger to his lips, shooting her a quick wink. "You'll blow my cover."

"What are you doing here?" Garren demanded, his eyes scanning the nearly empty cafe. There were only five people who occupied the rank of Hunter, and for good reason. Being a Hunter meant unwavering commitment in tracking their targets. Whereas the role of Reaper called for assassinating your target on the spot and essentially collecting their debt, Hunters would sometimes observe their prey for years without interfering. They took their orders directly from Mr. Shadow, and as a result their marks were far from ordinary.

Klaüs gave him a pointed look. "I'm cleaning up your mess."

"The boy was my—!" Garren took a deep, calming breath and narrowed his eyes. "Why wasn't I told?"

Klaüs tsked and waggled a finger. "You had your chance. The boy is no concern to you now, and I suggest you leave it at that." There was an underlying threat to the boy's soft tone that implied what Garren had already come to assume: he had royally fucked up, and Klaüs was here to make certain that he stayed out of the mess he created. Hunters were infamous among the Syndicate for not only covering their tracks, but for burying any loose ends that turned up as well.

"What's the big deal about this Harker kid, anyway?" Cassandra piped up, leaning forward with sudden interest. "I mean, he's just a little brat. What's he need a babysitter for?"

Klaüs leaned back, brushing a lock of hair aside as he glanced at Cassandra. "Mr. Shadow has big plans for the lad." He turned his gaze back to Garren, the corner of his lips curling back into that sinister grin. "And that's all you need to know."

Garren studied the Hunter, weighing his words carefully. "His life was marked for collection five years ago," he explained. "Why now is he so untouchable?"

Klaüs pushed himself to his feet. "I didn't say he was untouchable," he said as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket. "But it does make things interesting, don't you think?" He shot Cassandra another wink as he tossed a few wrinkled bills onto the table. "Coffee's on me. Enjoy your stay."

Garren watched the boy leave before cursing under his breath. "A fucking Hunter!"

Cassandra turned her attention back to Garren. "OK. I knew you fucked up your first Reaping, sweetie, but I didn't realize how bad it actually was!" She gestured toward the front of the cafe. "They put Jailer on that kid. Jailer! Do you know how seriously twisted that guy is?"

"I've heard the rumors." Garren pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. With Klaüs tailing that boy, there was no way that he could ever get close to him. This was not supposed to happen!

"What are you doing in Kalos, anyway?" Cassandra inquired. Last she had heard, they had her old friend licking their boots all the way in Johto. The Reaper lifted his gaze for a moment, and realization dawned on her. "Oh no," she whispered. "Garren, no. That boy belongs to Mr. Shadow now. He has his dogs following that kid around! You'll never get close enough to—"

"I embarrassed myself, Cassandra!" Garren snapped, whirling his head around so that his gaze bore into her. "They broke my knee, and that still wasn't enough! I'm the laughingstock of the entire organization!" He slammed his fist down on the table, the empty coffee cups clinking against the plates in the wake of his fury. Cassandra frowned, running a hand nervously along her arm. "A debt is still owed," he hissed. "And by right it's mine to collect!"

"Is there a problem over here?"

Garren looked up to see a young woman standing over their table, both hands on her hips and a displeased scowl twisting her lips. She was clad in an officer's uniform, her green hair pulled back into a loose bun, and there was a familiar air about her.

"No, officer," Cassandra replied, tossing Garren a quick glance. "Everything's fine here."

"Hey Jenny, your coffee's ready!"

The officer glanced to the counter up front, where a husky man in a white apron was standing, and waved. When she turned back to their table, there was a brief moment of hesitation, as if seeing the ghost of someone she had long since forgotten, but it was only a fleeting thought and with a shake of her head she bid them good day and walked off.

Garren watched Officer Jenny for some time before leaning in to Cassandra, his lips twisting in a knowing smirk. He had heard of an officer taking in the boy after the train station incident; this could very well work in his favor. "I think I know a way to get to the boy."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, curiosity overtaking her once more. "Is it dirty?"

Garren nodded. "When you can't get to your quarry," he explained as he massaged his knee, "force your quarry to come to you."

Cassandra smirked, her eyes flaring with excitement. She had to admit, despite all the rumors she had heard over the years, Garren had turned into a pretty twisted soul himself. And it was about time things started to get interesting around here. "What about Jailer?"

Garren scoffed. "I can handle that little pissant. I've run across his kind before, the dog's nothing but bark." His eyes darkened as he leaned back. "But a debt owed is a debt paid. As long as the Harker boy's dues are collected, Mr. Shadow doesn't need to know about our involvement." Redemption, after all, was bittersweet.

As a Shade, Cassandra rarely found an opportunity for anything other than pushing the Syndicate's trademark product. But, she observed with a laugh as they stood up to take their leave, it looked as if the fun around here was only just beginning.