Extra—Travailler le Système
(noun)
—French for "work the system"

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Most Kalosian ladies sipped their coffee with a sort of demureness, a sort of coquettishness that they hid behind gentle curves of a smile and half-lidded eyes—but Bonnie Amos was no Kalosian lady.

Rather, Bonnie Amos was a spunky sort of girl that acted too young for her age and laughed to loudly, who sorely lacked a sense of embarrassment and seemed to possess a spectacular disregard for heat. She guzzled her dark roast latte with extreme obliviousness to the presence of steam, and Calem had to avert his eyes to keep his tongue from itching at the memory of the first time he'd scalded himself on a Lumiose latte. Hot coffee was no joke, especially not from Cœur de Leone Café, where it was served fresh and practically at boiling point.

When he looked away, though, there was nothing to really catch his interest. The lobby of the Lumiose Gym, aka the Tour Prismatique, was painfully bare, all blank and white and pristine like new age technology from a sci-fi film, lined with these shimmering green veins that cast a subtle greenness to the area. But the white halogen lights above were far more overpowering, beating down with a sort of unrelenting mercilessness, as if trying to eliminate all color from existence. A pair of statues stood guard to each of the four entrances as a reminder that this was, in fact, a League-sanctioned Gym and not just a pretty landmark to be admired, but they were simply molds of plastic that you'd probably seen in any other Gym. Bonnie's desk was a long, flat expanse of colorless plastic with a computer stationed at it and a beige trashcan nearby, set into the southwestern corner and close enough to the wall that the whirr of electricity beneath the metal was audible, like the buzzing of an annoying fly right in your ear. Calem tried to tune it out as best he could. His pointer figure tapped idly against the polished plastic surface as he waited for Bonnie to empty her Styrofoam cup.

"Ah, that hit the spot!" She set her cup down with an exaggerated sigh, the cardboard cup warmer bloody red against the white Styrofoam—Cœur de Leone was famous for their thematic reds. In a rather brutish motion, she wiped the foam mustache clinging to her upper lip away with the back of her hand. "Sorry, I totally forgot what you were saying. Something about Viola?"

He cast Bonnie a sideways glance, regarding her without regarding her. She was of the same age as him, fair of face and with golden locks that, for some unfathomable reason, she took to wearing in a long side-ponytail, and her eyes were ashen blue, like the color of the sky just as it fills up with gunmetal clouds before a storm. Calem knew the color well. He'd seen it so many times that the hue had lost its novelty. But what he was not used to, however, was secretary attire, slacks and a collared shirt beneath a button-down vest. It made her look like a flight attendant of some kind, all professional and dignified, when in reality she was the type to adorn herself in bright pastels, in the loose, sporty attire accompanied by summer heat pooling in the cobblestone streets of the city.

But last summer had turned into last autumn, and last autumn to winter (Calem still remembered the sterile chill of the air, his breath misting as he stormed out of the Tour one last time with a heavy heart), and then spring and then summer had rolled around again. And everything was different, everything had changed.

Now was not the time for nostalgia. There were more pressing matters.

"I was just wondering when you last heard from her," he explained coolly. Voice even, neutral, betraying nothing. It was situations like this that absolutely required no extraneous show of emotion, nothing that might put his neutrality in jeopardy. He wasn't even here for her, anyway. He was here on Lavieaux's behalf. "I know Gym Leaders usually keep in touch—"

He was interrupted by a sharp flick to the tip of his nose that had him flinching back. Amazed and incredulous, he touched a hand to his nose gingerly. She regarded him with furrowed brows and a disapproving pout.

"What was that for?" he asked. Her audacity had surprised him.

The blonde planted her hands on her lips and dare to lean over the counter a little, her face encroaching on his personal space, but he didn't find himself having the urge to draw back. "You're being all serious—and I don't like it. C'mon, Cal, we know each other. Cut the impersonal bullshit. Just talk like a normal person."

He felt his teeth clench a little tighter, but he didn't respond. Normal people could be aloofly polite. It was not odd. And besides, how else was he supposed to cope with a situation like this, seeing a person you used to be very close to but hadn't spoken to for the better part of the year? So yeah, maybe he wants to be impersonal right now. Impersonal isn't bad, impersonal is safe. Impersonal keeps old wounds from reopening and scabs from tearing and blood from running.

Bonnie searched his face briefly with those storm-sky eyes of hers, and she seemed to pick up on his discomfort at least slightly (she knew him), because she turned back to her computer. "Right. Viola? Haven't heard from her in a while."

This didn't surprise him in the slightest. It only confirmed what he already knew. "About a month, right?"

She blinked at him once. "Um. Yeah... How did you know that?"

"So there was no word from Santalune for a month?" Calem pressed. They say you can't bleed a stone, but this wasn't a stone, right? Right? "Nothing on the news, no word from the League that indicated—"

"How do you know that?" Bonnie interrupted forcefully. Her eyes glowed with suspicion.

He exhaled through his nostrils. Not the time. "Answer my question."

"You answer mine." Bonnie's eyes narrowed, but, after a moment, she dared a smirk. "And that's an order from your former employer, mister."

Unintentionally, the corner of his lip curled. "Former employer"—now that took him back. Snapshots of summer, working as one of the Gym Trainers among the myriad levels that stretched to the sky, the air thick with ozone as he uncovered the thrill of battle and laughter, the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes and the Amos twins, Gym Leaders of the Tour Prismatique. Oh, but that was hardly the case anymore. Summer had ended, unforeseen circumstances forced Bonnie to retire, and now she served instead as a lowly Gym Guide. It was as unfair a hand that life could have dealt, and while the nostalgia left a sweetness in the back of Calem's throat, the bitter aftertaste was overpowering, so he simply swallowed.

"Viola lost her position as Gym Leader approximately one month ago," he explained. Indulging her would help, he told himself. It had nothing to do with her "order". "Her sister, Alexa, usurped her."

Bonnie leaned back, eyes wide.

"Alexa is abusing her position grievously," he went. Now he was the one leaning in, the one in control. "Former employer" indeed. She didn't quite have that sort of power over him anymore. "I want to get the League involved. Is there any way that can happen?"

At this, she pursed her lips. "You should really talk to the Gym Leader about this sort of thing, Cal. I can get him—he's not busy—"

"I'd rather not." The idea of seeing Clemont was not exactly a pleasant notion. Not since... "With you, I can at least keep things civil."

She sighed and turned back to her computer, her gaze listless as she regarded the screen. "It's been a long time, y'know. And neither Clem or I hold grudges too long. I'm sure if you just talked to him—"

Calem's hand curled into a fist, nails scritching against the plastic surface of the desk. "We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Her eyes flicked over to him briefly, and seeing the steadfast neutrality, screaming not dredging up the past not dredging up the past, immediately turned her attention back to the screen. "Fine."

"Good." Good. Fine. It wasn't like he wanted to see Clemont anyway.

Her fingertips glided briefly over the keyboard in a brief sonata of clicking before her hands went still. "I don't know what to tell you, Cal. Communication in the League is like a game of broken telephone. Those of us who keep in contact are the ones Diantha doesn't want to hear from."

"Like Korrina." An Aesith, the only Aesith to currently hold a League position in Kalos. As such, a lot of demihuman hate was centralized in Shalour, and the League, pragmatic to a fault, had no desire to pull out their mucking boots and wade through shit's creek.

"That's one example." Bonnie pursed her lips. "Wulfric keeps in contact too. And Viola was spotty most of the time, so I really didn't think anything of her going silent for a while. But, geez. I had no idea that'd happened..."

"No one else keeps in contact?" He knew the communication between the Gym Leaders was bad, but...

"Are you kidding? The last time I heard from Grant was two years ago." It was only out of knowing Bonnie well that he heard the implied "prick" when she said Grant's name. "Olympia's never really bothered with the whole we-need-to-stick-together mentality. And then Ramos refuses to acknowledge Clem as Gym Leader."

Because of our Sinnohan heritage, she didn't say. She didn't have to. The Amos family were immigrants from the icy north, and their patriarch had won the Gym a few decades ago, before Diantha took the throne and everything started to fall apart, little by little. The twins had inherited the Gym, as was customary in Kalos, but the region was not as open to foreigners as it should be. There were several in the League who were more than willing to undermine Lumiose's authority, based on the Gym Leader's too-fair complexion and the mellifluous curl of a stubborn accent that turned 'w's to 'v's.

Ramos was among those with a touch of xenophobia in him, a veteran of the Crimson War and a stubborn old coot, likely still loyal to the Second Monarchy even though it had long since been overthrown. Neither was he particularly fond of Olympia, who had a more than just a touch of Alolan in her blood (or so Calem had heard, he'd never actually met her in person). There were two of the Crimson War generation, as it was called, that made up the Gym Circuit, but Ramos and Wulfric were diametrically opposed in terms of ideals. Unfortunately, it was Ramos's that seemed to have a stronger hold within the League itself.

"And don't get me started on Aliana." Bonnie cast a glare at the trash can, likely for lack of being able to glare at the woman herself. "Irresponsible as hell, but no one calls her out on it. She can ditch her Gym for months without consequences, but if Clem or I took a week off, we had hell to pay."

"It might be because she's heavily involved in the upcoming elections," Calem offered. Aliana was a prominent member of the Team Flare party, after all.

Bonnie lowered her gaze. "It's unfair."

A weight of something like guilt or dread settled in his gut. Calem closed his eyes. "...yeah. It is."

A beat of silence, filled by the whirr of the inner workings of the Tour and hum of blinding halogen lights.

"I haven't heard any League news from Santalune," Bonnie said suddenly. He opened his eyes to look at her, and was met with a worried expression. "Clem and Korrina have been pooling some resources in order to keep Vi's Gym operating, but a month ago she went dark, and none of us have been able to get in touch with her. That's all I know."

Calem sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was it? Was everyone in the dark about this? "Well, that sucks. I was really hoping you'd know something."

"Sorry." She eyed him for a moment, thoughtful, and then: "What about your mom? She's pretty high up in the League."

"She's also heavily involved with election season," Calem explained dully. The reminder that he hadn't been able to contact her at all during the past three weeks sent a pang through him. It had been like a slap to the face when, each time, it was her assistant that answered and informed her she was busy right now, please call later, I'll pass the message along, okay bye. "That's a big workload to deal with. So through no fault of her own, some of her League duties kind of get... neglected, for lack of a better term..."

Bonnie grabbed her latte again and took another sip, but it was more measured than before. She was heedless of how the steam had long since vanished, how the coffee had gone cold while they were talking.

"I don't know if anyone will listen to me or Clem if we tried to contact the League," she said quietly. She was speaking into the cup, so her voice was muffled. The scarlet band of the flimsy cardboard blazed. "Korrina, maybe. Wulfric, unlikely. But us? Probably not. If you're not all Kalosian, you kinda lose a bit of your voice, y'know?"

Yes, Calem did know. It was a painful truth, a reality that made his gut clench in fury at the sheer injustice of it. This attitude of blood purity and noble lineage was an archaic farce that Kalos would do well to be rid of. But as it was now, he didn't have that sort of power. The person who did was the one who wasn't doing anything about it at best, or perpetuating it at worst. And it needed to change. It so desperately needed to change.

"I'm sorry. I just hoped you could help. I didn't mean to..." Dredge up this issue, land a blow to her self-esteem, remind her of the skewed injustice of the region in its current state.

"It's fine." It wasn't, but Bonnie forced herself to smile in a reassuring manner, setting her coffee down. "But I've got to wonder—you said it was Alexa who took over the Gym?"

"Yeah."

"Weird." Bonnie rubbed her chin. "She writes for the Lumiose Star. She's interviewed me a couple times..."

Calem arched a brow. "What's weird about that?"

"Well, she said she didn't battle." She shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. "I dunno. Maybe she learned? And she doesn't seem like the type to misuse her authority either..."

That, you could chalk up to Transcendence twisting her psyche, but Calem wasn't about to tell Bonnie that.

"Thanks for the information," he said at a length. "I should probably head back to Santalune."

Her shoulders sagged. "Sorry I couldn't help out as much."

"It's okay," Calem told her, even though it wasn't and disappointment weighed in his gut like iron, but Bonnie didn't need to know that. "The information you did give was helpful."

She eyed him suspiciously. At first, it seemed as though she'd guessed at his inner thoughts, but then she murmured, "Are you sure you don't want to see Clem?"

Honestly? Calem didn't. Well, he did, sort of, just to apologize at the very least, but... Again, there were more pressing matters. "No. It was nice seeing you, Bonnie."

He made for the automatic doors.

"Hey, Calem?"

He glanced back at her. Bonnie was leaning over the counter, her mouth twisted into a smirk and her eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. False bravado. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

His heart panged. He nodded once, and left. Muggy summer heat smacked him across the face. For a moment, he could almost pretend any entire year hadn't gone by.

But it had.

"So when were you going to tell us that Celestine was Aesith?" Trevor demanded, his face blown from leaning too close to the hologram transmitter. Blue light glimmered dully against the hard black, plastic table.

Calem inhaled deeply and then sighed. The air was thickened by the scent of flowers wafting in from Route Four to the south, particularly felt on the edges of Lumiose, where there was significantly less population density and the streets were lined with trees, as though the wilderness were creeping into the city. This café was popular for that reason, the closeness to the serenity of the wild and the farness from clogged highways and smog-thickened air. But with dusk encroaching upon the sky, amber and violet congealing upon the horizon in the distance and yellowing the main body of the sky, there were few customers occupying other tables, and the staff were taking advantage the lull in activity to bide their time until closing ours. No one was around to protest against a Trainer and his two rowdy Pokémon, and also no one to eavesdrop or even give two shits about the call—which was great, because Calem was sure this was information Celestine wasn't too keen on letting get out. A plate of half-touched galettes (famous in Lumiose, by the by, there were about twenty different galette shops in South Boulevard alone) sat next to his Caster, right beside a steaming cappuccino. Both Hayami and Alistair sat atop the table, both enjoying some specialty biscuits, but he could see Alistair eyeing those galettes with a sort of calculating greed.

"You figured it out." It was not a question, and it never had been. Trevor had always been the smartest one out of all of them, capable of mathematically and scientifically running laps around them since when they were kids. Calem remembered the countless study sessions in which Trevor lectured about math and history, about biology and chemistry. It was inevitable, really, and only a matter of time before he connected the dots.

Trevor pulled away a little, his proportions readjusting themselves. "I also told Shauna and Tierno."

Calem jumped to his feet. "You did what?"

Trevor's brows furrowed with confusion. "Okay, what's with the look?"

Okay. Okay. This might not be so bad. Just, figure out how screwed Trevor was. Calem sat back down stiffly. "Did Celestine tell you she was Aesith, or did you figure it out on your own?"
Trevor blinked in alarm. "Why does that matter?"

Oh poor, sweet, naïve Trevor. Oblivious to the sort of wrath Lavieaux could rain down if she wanted. "Because there are varying levels of how screwed you are once Lavieaux finds out you've been blabbing. If it's the former, you're slightly screwed. If it's the latter, you're majorly screwed."

The look Trevor came him was possessed an utter lack of comprehension. "What?"

How to make Trevor understand... That was a dilemma, wasn't it? Calem thought for a moment, then recalled the incident at the Route Two rest stop a few weeks ago. "Imagine I went around blabbing about how you were asexual. Wouldn't you be pissed?"

"Very," Trevor said darkly. His brows even furrowed as though her were going into nerd-wrath-mode.

"Pretty much the same thing," Calem told him. Geez, you'd never have thought a short guy like Trevs would be so intimidating. "Except she didn't tell you."

Trevor's face went blank and he seemed to straighten, eyes wide. "Oh... shit, I'm royally screwed."

"Yup."

Trevor frowned at him, suddenly. "Wait, how did you find out? Did she tell you?"

"More or less." Calem paused briefly to swat Alistair away before the Fletchinder made off with his galettes. The bird sulked away with a wounded look and was met by Hayami's disapproving glare. "I watched her heal a busted ankle. And it was none of my business, anyway, whether she wanted to hide it or not, so I didn't say anything."

It looked for a moment like Trevor was about to protest, but then he sighed and nodded with a sort of solemn understanding. "Okay. Okay. Um. Can you tell me one more thing?"

Well, the cat was already out of the bag, so. "Shoot."

Trevor hesitated briefly, then, "Alexa's abusing Transcendence, isn't she?"

Calem felt his shoulders slacken and he heaved a sigh. "Yeah. Bigtime."

"Fuck."

"Basically."

Trevor looked off to the side for a moment, then turned back to the screen. "Celestine's match is in three days. You should head back."

Calem nodded knowingly. It wasn't as though he wasn't counting the days himself. "I'm heading out first thing tomorrow."

"Good." Trevor paused, lips pursing. "Dare I ask if we can count on the League to show up?"

It was a valiant effort, but Calem couldn't stop himself from wincing.

"Okay. Okay." There was some movement, and the hologram flickered for a moment before refocussing. Calem hoped it was just the visual malfunctioning, because he could have sworn Trevs looked worried, which in itself was a bad sign, because Trevs didn't usually get worried. "Just drag your ass back here Lafayette."

"Will do."

The call ended.

Author's Note:

Hey! USUM comes out today and I wanted to drop this off real quick before I hibernate for the next week. Please enjoy!

So, Calem worked as a Gym Trainer in Lumiose last summer. It was actually what first sparked his interest in Pokemon training.

Clemont and Bonnie are twins. Yes, I aged Bonnie up from being that seemingly unimportant little girl NPC to give her a larger role as a former Gym Leader and not just the annoying sister of the Gym Leader. The Amos twins used to run the Gym Lisa-and-Tate style, but then she was forced to retire and now works as the official Gym Guide.

Kalos is not a perfect region either. There's a lotta stuff goin' on. Like racism, for example.

That's all for now!
Luna