Author's Note:
REVIEW RESPONSES HAVE BEEN CAUGHT UP ON. \o/ Or, well, there's that one response Neophilic posted to Tumblr, but all I can say to that is I am the queen of GIFs. 8) But for real, shout out to everyone this time around! Thanks for your patience~!

As a side note, there're going to be some foreign words flying around this chapter for plot/character reasons. Here's a quick run-down of what those mean:

Japanese
Daijoubu = (I am) okay/no need to worry/generally "all is good" kind of phrase. It can also be used to ask if someone is okay, depending on context.
Kowakatta = Did I scare you?
Kowai wa = I am scared

French
Reste = the rest ... which is really only funny if you kinda sorta know Canadian geography and history? Maybe? (Warning: I am not Canadian, so I can't guarantee that this joke is actually hilarious.)

Just keep those in mind, and you shall be golden. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the chapter!

Ten

D.E.V.A. CLEARANCE LEVEL 9
CLEARANCE ACCEPTED.
DOCUMENT TYPE: FILE
DESIGNATION: PROJECT STARDUST SUBJECT, FILE 03
DESCRIPTION: FIRST DRAFT OF D.E.V.A. CONTAINMENT FILE FOR INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS 2000KH-B/03, CODENAME ABEL.
DATE-TIME: FILE CREATION, 10/10/02, 09:36

SUBJECT ID #: SE-650
CODE NAME: ABEL
CURRENT LOCATION: POLARIS INSTITUTE, CINNABAR ISLAND, KANTO
OBJECT CLASS: II, PENDING APPROVAL
CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: PENDING
DESCRIPTION: Electric-type SE-650 ("ixodida"). Armed with bio-thorns and ranged electrical attacks.
KNOWN MOVES: Thunder, Discharge, Shock Wave, Thunder Wave
CURRENT STATUS: Captive, Polaris Institute. Security top priority. WARNING—Considered highly dangerous. Contain by any means necessary. Caution highly advised.
NOTES: Creation may be linked to Adam Incident (SEE FULL REPORT, LINKED.) Investigation authorized by C-01.

—

"Answer me," Lanette growled.

The crowbar's straighter end was still dangerously close to Bill's chest. He felt it, the point scratching the surface of his core lightly. Heat pulsed from the jewel in his chest, flowing like boiling water into the rest of his torso. Bill didn't have to read the parasite's mind to know exactly what that meant: that Adam was not just angry. It was enraged. A wordless threat pulsed in Bill's brain. It didn't have any sound, any words. Bill could simply feel it in the numbness in his arms, in the gathering darkness on the edges of his field of vision, in the crawling beneath his skin. The parasite was enraged, and it was just seconds away from doing something incredibly terrible.

Bill, act, Adam demanded. Do not allow me to interpret this as a life-threatening situation.

"I know," Bill whispered. "I just..."

Lanette pressed into the bar, and Bill could feel the tip push harder on the surface of the jewel. His hands balled into fists without his consent. He glanced at one of them through the corner of his eye as he scrambled to put his thoughts into words.

"Answer me," Lanette repeated, this time louder and gruffer.

Bill turned his eyes back to his companion, to his friend, to the one person on this planet that he trusted more than anyone else.

"Lanette," he whispered. "Lanette, please. Please, you must believe m—"

A crack of electricity filled Bill's ears, a white light temporarily blinded him, and the smell of wet gravel and copper filled his nose. Manectric had moved apparently, and that was the worst thing it could have done. This was largely because the force around Bill released as a direct result of this attack, but nothing prevented him from falling into Lanette's weapon. So he did. And the pointed end of Lanette's crowbar, the part she held steadily, quickly met his throat.

In the next instant, all Bill could perceive was white-hot pain radiating from his neck and chin. He wanted to scream, but his jaw was literally jammed shut. Instead, he heard Lanette's sharp yelp, followed closely by the world tipping over on its side. He couldn't even feel himself hit the floor, but he could feel the blood. A flood of it, gushing out of his neck and flowing down the smooth plating of his front at first. But then, when the world tipped over, it began to flow sideways into a puddle around his body, and he could feel the hot, sticky wetness soak into his face. It filled his throat and mouth too, and his body spasmed in closed-mouth coughs. He could hear the whistle of his breath, sense the coldness of the air passing in and out of the tear; it stung on levels Bill didn't even think pain could reach. And the pain—the pain. It wasn't just agonizing. It was never-ending. So as an eternity passed, he could only shiver in pure, blinding agony. He couldn't think. Time did not exist for him. His senses could barely register anything other than what he felt in his neck.

And then, he blinked. He wasn't sure how long he blinked, but he knew that the world went black for a moment.

You truly are a hopeless creature, Adam growled. This would be far easier if you listened to my advice.

Bill suddenly rediscovered his ability to move, and at that point, he used it to curl up into a fetal position.

Breathe, you idiot.

Shuddering, Bill followed Adam's direction without a second thought. He breathed, but this time, he couldn't feel air passing into his throat through his neck. In fact, with each breath, the pain ebbed away until he was released from its grasp. Carefully, shakily, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees and lifted a trembling hand to his throat. Under his fingertips, he could feel the ragged edge of the wound push against his touch. Drawing his hand away from his throat, he turned it until the jewel in his palm revealed his reflection. There, he saw the wound on his neck—the long, ugly hole up his flesh and under his chin and collar—close up and vanish as if it was never there.

"W-what?" he mumbled.

For a scientist, you certainly have a terrible habit of not listening, Adam commented. Were you not paying attention when your new companions told you that my kind can heal from any wound? This is technically not true, but we can heal from many injuries that would be fatal to humans.

Bill grasped his throat carefully, feeling the tender, new skin beneath the jewel in his palm. "What?!"

By the way, I do believe you are in the middle of a battle. Perhaps it would be wise to begin paying attention to your surroundings, Bill.

Swinging his head back towards the seating area, Bill squinted until he could focus on the scene before him. He must not have been distracted for long; from the looks of it, the struggle between Lanette and Thom had just gotten started. To be more accurate, he could see Lanette's spinda lying in a slightly smoking heap just a few feet away from him. Beyond it, Thom's manectric pinned Lanette's solrock face-down on the floor using all four paws, and every time the living rock so much as twitched, the dog fired another round of electricity straight into its craggy body. The trainers themselves, meanwhile, were on the floor in the far corner of the lobby. Lanette sat on top of Thom's stomach, her crowbar straight across the man's shoulders. Both of their hands were on her weapon, and their knuckles were white as they pushed against each other in a frantic struggle. All the while, Thom was crying out, his words melting into an incoherent babble of "please" and "stop" while Lanette pressed all her weight into her weapon.

"Lanette," Bill gasped. Then, launching himself onto his feet without a second thought, he bolted towards her. "Lanette, stop!"

She faltered. It was slight and subtle, but it was crucial. Her hands relaxed. Her shoulders tensed in the wrong way. Her arms went just a little slack. It wasn't so much a moment of relaxation as it was a misdirection of power, one that allowed Thom to push her off him and yank her crowbar out of her hands. In the next second, Bill grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist as he dragged her away from Thom. She screeched and flailed, elbowing Bill in the shoulder and kicking him in his ankle until he finally pulled her down to the floor. Before she could get away, he twisted, pulling himself on top of her until his knees framed her waist, his hands pinned her arms down at the elbow, and his tail wrapped tightly around her legs.

Thom sat up, gasping for breath as he gripped Lanette's crowbar in one hand. "H-hey. How did you … you were … you okay?"

"You're welcome," Bill said, keeping his eyes trained on Lanette. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Thom asked. "You were stabbed in the neck. Like … you were stabbed in the neck five seconds ago."

At that, Bill flashed him a quick smirk. "Healing factor, apparently."

"Yeah, but..." Thom rubbed the back of his neck. "Holy crap. I … I mean … huh. Damn." He numbly let his chin fall as he held up the crowbar. "Uh. What now?"

Flinching as Lanette thrashed under him, Bill bent his head down. "Hold onto her crowbar and give me a moment."

Nodding, Thom stood. He gripped the weapon in both hands as he stared down at the scene on the floor. After a few seconds, Bill lifted his chin slightly to stare directly into Lanette's eyes.

"Lanette, stop it," he said firmly. "It's me."

"Let me go," she barked.

"Not until you listen to what I have to say."

Lifting her head off the floor, Lanette snapped, "Let me go, you monster!"

Bill flinched at the loudness of her voice so close to his ear. "I'm not a monster. Lanette, you've got to listen to me. It's me—Bill!"

"I know how you ixodida work," she growled. "You take people, and you transform them. But you leave their faces as a defense mechanism so that the humans closest to them let down their guard. You may look like him. You may even sound like him. But I know what you really are."

"You have it all wrong," Bill replied, turning his gaze back to her. "It's me in here, Lanette. I'm telling the truth."

"Y-Y'know, you really should listen to him," Thom said. "He's really not that—"

"Wattson, if you're not a traitor, then shut up and do something," Lanette snarled.

As if that finally snapped him out of his shock, Thom straightened. "Lanette, c'mon! He's really reasonable if you just let him—"

She interrupted with a quick, barking laugh. And that was the sound that hurt Bill the most. It wasn't the first time he had heard Lanette laugh, no, but whenever she had done so in the past, it was always a light sound, high in the throat and quick and warm, like the chirping of a swablu. This sound, however, was low and sharp and cold, as if it came from someplace muddy and dark. Lanette twisted in her partner's grip and gave Thom an icy sneer.

"You idiot," she whispered. "All of them will sound reasonable, but that's all for show. Everything they do is to catch you in their trap. This thing may have sounded reasonable to you, but it's only waiting to take advantage of you because it knows we outnumber it."

"It has a name," Bill responded crossly. Then, with a sigh, he bent his head down again. "All I'm asking is for you to listen to me. Please, Lanette. I know this isn't you."

Snapping her glare back to Bill, Lanette bared her teeth and jolted one of her legs to the side, pulling Bill's tail harshly in the process. An electric pain ran up Bill's spine, causing him to yelp and drop himself lower to Lanette. However, his grip on her arms tightened, and his legs ground into the floor even as his tail loosened. Before Lanette could move, before she could pull her legs out of the metal coil around her knees, he leaned down and pressed his forehead into the floor next to her ear.

"I didn't want to do this," he said, "but you won't listen to me otherwise."

He turned his head to whisper something in Lanette's ear. Her eyes widened as her entire body tensed. She knew what it was: a password—a password for an administrator panel for the storage system, one of the parts that only the people who knew the software intimately could unlock. And it wasn't just any password to any administrator panel. It was Kanto and Johto's password, one meant for only a single interface in the entire world. And she knew this because it was also the one phrase only the two of them would know.

Because it was the first thing he ever said to her.

"Hello, princess."

As he lifted his head to look into her eyes, he watched her expression become unreadable. It wasn't because it was blank. It was because it was a mixture of several different emotions at once. Confused. Hurt. Angry. Bill studied her face, waiting patiently for her to make the next move.

And eventually, the next move came in the form of her voice, tiny and soft for the first time since they were reunited.

"Bill."

He pushed himself up, placing his hands on either side of her head. Quietly, he gazed down at her with a broad smile.

"Lanette," he breathed. "Hello."

They stared at each other for a very long, very quiet moment.

And then she kneed him in the stomach.

Buckling over, Bill slammed his forehead back into the floor to avoid hitting Lanette, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she was now shoving at his shoulders and clawing at the side of his face, screaming what he figured were French obscenities in a frantic effort to get him off.

"Why would that make you more violent?!" he cried as he pushed himself back onto his hands.

She responded by jamming her knee directly between his legs. He stopped, freezing at the lack of pain from Lanette's assault. Despite the fact that Lanette was now punching him in the chest, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Really?!" he yelled.

As appropriate as it would be to discuss that matter, considering your literal position in this situation, Adam replied, we will discuss that at another time.

"Honestly, haven't I had enough without—" His words broke off abruptly when Lanette punched him in the chin. Turning his glare back towards her, he reached up to grab her arms and press them down into the floor with the palms of his hands. "Okay, that hurt."

"Let me go," she growled again.

"No," Bill responded. "Listen. I don't know why you're so militantly against ixodida, but you've got to believe me when I say—"

A jet of water blasted him in the side. It sent him sailing across the room and into the videophones, narrowly missing Thom in the process. With a crash, Bill fell to the floor under another rain of sparks and broken metal and plastic, only this time, it actually hurt. He crawled to his hands and knees and shook off the excess water before lifting his chin to see his assailant.

It was a wartortle. A wartortle standing just beyond Lanette. The turtle held his limbs out to its sides, and even though he had yet to receive another order to attack, bubbles were already forming in his pointed, blue mouth. Behind him stood Raye with her arms slack at her sides and her eyes wide and trained directly on Bill.

"Raye," he murmured.

Then, she did the one thing that saved Bill's life. She started crying.

Bawling, actually. Complete with her head tilted back, her mouth open, her eyes shut, and tears streaming freely down her face. Lanette moved towards her, but Thom grabbed her before she could get far. He flung her crowbar to the side and wrapped her in her arms, holding her close and tight as she squirmed. Then, leaning in, Thom whispered one phrase into her ear.

"Let him handle this."

Bill didn't even need to hear that cue. Even as Thom was wrapping Lanette up in his arms, Bill was making his move, starting towards his sister on all fours. Once he passed Thom and Lanette, he pushed off the ground and rose to his feet, stumbling the last few steps until he stood in front of Raye. Her wartortle growled, shifting himself between the ixodida and his trainer. Bill glanced down at the turtle, then back up at his sister. With a deep breath, Bill reached over the turtle, slowly and gently until his knuckles brushed up against Raye's face. Instantly, her bawling stopped, replaced only by hiccups and tears as she stared at him through a squint. Then, after only a few seconds, her eyes widened, and her face paled. She stumbled backwards a few paces and cringed, and her sobs turned into a quivering whimper.

"Raye," Bill said. "Daijoubu. It's me."

In response, she flinched, shutting her eyes tightly as she wrapped her arms over her head.

"Go away!" she cried. "Go away go away go away…!"

Bill shook his head. "Please don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." And then, after she cried out once more, he continued, "I don't understand. What will prove to you that you can trust me?"

"Well, she's probably just scared of you 'cause you're covered in blood," Thom told him matter-of-factly.

Bill shot a glance over his shoulder. Behind him, Thom stood casually with one large hand clamped over the mouth of a quietly fuming Lanette.

"Just sayin', man," he said. "You've got blood all over you. Might wanna clean that up so you don't look like you just killed someone."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Bill turned away from Thom and lifted one of his hands. He peered at his reflection on his forearm until he caught sight of the splatters of red covering his neck and the entire left side of his face. Entire swaths of red still looked wet and fresh, and red rivulets of water and blood dribbled down his chest.

"Oh," he said faintly. "So I do." Then, looking down at his sister's wartortle, he added, "Hit me."

The turtle screwed up his face in confusion. Tilting his head to the side, he trilled half of his species' name but refused to fire a shot.

At that, Bill stepped back and spread his arms. "Hit me. Aim for my chest, if you'd please."

Somewhere in his head, he heard Adam sigh. Oh, that is a terrible idea.

Unfortunately, Bill didn't have time to protest. At that moment, the wartortle shrugged, lifted a stubby paw, and slammed his foot down into the ground. Blue circles of light flashed across the floor in the short distance between the wartortle and his target until they formed a ring beneath the ixodida's feet, and all at once, Bill realized exactly why Adam called his plan a bad idea. Before he could call it off or dodge the turtle's attack, jets of water burst from the floor and slammed into Bill, and he was blasted off his feet and into the air. Unable to control his flightpath, Bill pinwheeled through the air and came crashing down onto the couches, sopping wet and thoroughly bruised. Groaning, he sat up and whipped around to face the turtle.

"I didn't say use Water Pledge on me!" he shouted.

The wartortle responded by shooting a Water Gun directly into Bill's face.

On the positive side, the attack hurt less than Water Pledge. On the negative, Bill was forced to contemplate that thought as he lay flat on his back while the wartortle laughed at him. Scrambling to his feet again, Bill was about to tell the pokémon off when something else made him stop: a noise just to his left. Swinging his eyes towards its source in awe, he caught sight of his sister. Her hands were balled in front of her mouth, and her eyes were fixed on the ground, just as Bill had left her. But what was different about her now was that there was a smile behind her hands, and her voice wasn't broken up by sobs.

It was broken up by laughter.

"I did it," Bill breathed.

Then, shaking his head, he moved towards her again, this time on two feet. When he reached her, she didn't move away from him. Instead, she flinched, her laughter silencing in an uncertain grunt. Carefully, slowly, Bill reached out again and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Even through his steel armor, he could feel the gritty, dry tear tracks on her skin. The heat bothered him, but he kept his hand there, brushing her face with cautious strokes.

"Daijoubu," he said. "Daijoubu."

She sniffed and stared at him, stared directly at his face. But she couldn't say a word. Not yet.

"Gomen," he continued. "Kowakatta?"

This time, Raye could respond, but she could only do it in a strained, rasping voice. "Nii-chan?"

He nodded once. "Hello, Raye. I'm sorry I missed your birthday again."

Pressing her face into her brother's hand, Raye shook with a sniffle. Bill could feel her tears, warm and watery, flow onto his fingers. When she opened one eye, the one not pressed against him, she stared directly into his face for the first time.

"Nii-chan," she sobbed. "Nii-chan. Kowai wa."

Relaxing a little, Bill moved his hand to Raye's shoulder and pulled her closer. She complied, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he followed by draping his own over her. As she buried her face in his torso, she burst into a second round of tears and sobs. The warmth seeped through Bill's metal skin, but he did his best to ignore it. He was going to get used to this. He was going to do it to help Raye. He didn't have a choice in the matter. With those three thoughts repeating over and over again in his head, he reached up to stroke Raye's hair gently.

"Shh," he replied, stroking her hair gently. "I know. I know."

A few paces away, Thom's grip on Lanette slackened just enough for Lanette to push him away. He let her, watching her stand as she stared at the siblings in front of her.

"See?" Thom said. "He's harmless."

It took a few moments for Lanette to respond. She could only watch as the ixodida stood embracing his sister. Then, she shook her head and moved to pick up her crowbar.

"No," she muttered.

Thom glanced at her in curiosity. Bill looked over his shoulder, regarding his partner carefully. Something was wrong. So very obviously wrong. But Lanette wouldn't look at either of them as she pulled a pair of poké balls from one of the belts around her chest. She kept her eyes trained on the floor as she recalled her pokémon and moved towards the exit.

"Hey!" Thom shouted. "Whadda you mean, 'no'?!"

Lanette shook her head again. "I … I need to consult Officer Jenny." She froze at the door and straightened her back, and when she spoke again, her voice was steady and cold. "Bill. Scavengers will give you clothing and supplies, and guards will take you to where you will live. You may stay in the vicinity of Fallarbor, but you absolutely cannot stay inside its borders. We may have a place for you just beyond the border at the western edge of town. There's an abandoned house there that once belonged to a fossil maniac. It will have to do for now. You're to stay there—and only there. Once the guards deliver you there, you are not to set foot inside the town unescorted."

Bill pulled away from his sister, resting a hand on her shoulder as he turned towards his partner. Had he failed? "Lanette..."

Thom was evidently a bit more emotional than the ixodida. He balled his hands into fists and started forward, stopping just a few paces behind Lanette to shout, "Hey! What kind of deal is that?!"

She whirled around. "This is not up for discussion, Wattson."

"Like hell it is! Raye, back me up here!"

The girl tucked herself behind Bill so that he stood firmly between her and Lanette. Bill lifted his head at that point. There was another sound filtering into his ears: a high-pitched hum.

Growling at the lack of response he was getting, Thom turned towards the siblings. "C'mon! Bill, don't you have anything else to say here?!"

"Hold on," he said quietly. His tail began swaying behind him, and he strained his ears to listen to the hum. Whatever it was, it was getting closer and louder and lower pitched.

Thom relaxed and blinked. "Huh? Hold on? For what?"

Bill looked over his shoulder again. "Don't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Lanette sighed in exasperation and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Please tell me you know anything about the body you're inhabiting, Bill."

It was his turn to glance at her strangely. "What? What do you mean?"

"Ixodida have sensitive hearing," Lanette said. "They can detect sounds originating from much farther away than humans, and they have a wider hearing range. Meaning, for those of us who are not scientists—" She shot Thom a venomous glare, as if it was a mortal sin that he wasn't scientifically gifted. "—that of course he can hear something that we can't."

"That … I admit I noticed. But this sound…" Bill replied slowly. Then, he shook his head. Of course they couldn't hear it. It was too low, too far away. Knowing that, he turned his head towards the source of the noise and nodded. "I can hear a hum. It's coming from that direction."

"That direction?" Lanette opened her eyes fully but didn't move her hand. She peered hard at her partner. "Explain."

He looked at her again, eyebrows arched as he searched her face for an explanation to her demand. She had gone white, and already, Bill could feel a creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach because of it.

"Explain?" he asked.

"What does it sound like?" she responded—firmly, with emphasis on each syllable.

"Er." Bill shook his head again. "It's … it's a quiet hum. It's getting closer. I-I'm not sure what you—"

"Exactly in that direction?" Lanette snapped.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because," she told him impatiently, "that is the direction of Route 113. There is a known ixodida nest at the edge of town. Right. There."

Thom laughed nervously. "Yeah, but … they haven't moved for months! It's not like they're going to … would they?"

Lanette shifted a fiery glare at Thom before settling it back on Bill. "You're an ethologist. Surely you've figured it out by now."

"Figured it out?" Bill said, drawing himself closer to Raye. "I don't … I don't understand. Figured what out?"

"What Hoenn is to the ixodida, Bill," she snapped. "Think! You are in—"

Before she could finish, a terrible sound erupted from the direction the hum had come from. Bill had never really heard a bloodcurdling scream outside of horror films, but he could only describe this noise as such: loud and wild and from the back of the throat, as if their voices were trying desperately to escape their chests. He couldn't even count how many voices there were; they blended together into one ear-splitting screech. Bill flinched, bowing his head over his sister as he cried out in pain, and she only responded by clinging tighter and tighter to him until, at last, the screams died down. Slowly, Bill lifted his head again and gazed at the corner where the sound had pierced into the room. Then, he looked back at Thom, who was frozen with mouth agape and his eyes wide. Next to him was Lanette, who frowned and stared at the door like a dog about to dash off into the hunt. She reached up to grasp her crowbar as her eyes flicked back to Bill, waiting for a question.

And naturally, he delivered. "What was that?"

"That, Bill," she told him bluntly, "is an entire horde of ixodida, and all of them are angry. Congratulations."

"For what?" he replied, his voice nearly inaudible.

She shook her head and started for the door. "I'm not explaining this to you now. Watch over your sister, and for the love of all the gods, don't you dare think about anything else."

—

A burst of electricity lit up one of the laboratories in Polaris Institute. Although she didn't flinch, Professor Nettle was thankful for the protective glass between herself and her subject. Silently, she narrowed her eyes at the gardevoir and haunter on the other side of the glass. They were meant to restrain the thing inside the room, but with one attack—with a single blast of lightning—they fell to the floor in limp heaps. Without their influence holding it down, the creature once known as Joel Anderson stood atop the burnt wreckage of a medical pod.

But this thing was only recognizably Joel in that it had his face. From the neck downward, it was a yellow creature—a reptilian being with radioactive-neon skin that glowed softly in the dimness of its holding cell. Spikes jutted out of its back and ran down the length of its long, twisting tail, right up to the appendage's rounded, club-like tip. Its three-clawed feet dug into the cushions of the medical pod as the rest of its body tensed. At the same time, the creature's stiff arms held its thin hands to its sides, and the longer it waited, the more sparks jumped up its long, spindly fingers to the tips of its sharp claws. A curtain of long, blond hair fell in front of its face, but Nettle could see past it, directly into its blank, dead eyes.

Part of Professor Nettle, a part she carefully guarded from the outside world, felt afraid right then. But on the outside, all her subordinates could see was the calm silence she emitted as she stood tall, her head back and her hands clasped behind her back. She didn't even bother issuing orders as the assistants frantically punched buttons on the flashing console in front of them. Nettle only watched as more hatches in the walls of the other room opened, as more haunter flooded the space, and as more electricity burnt each one of them to a crisp.

And then, her lips just barely moved.

"He'll do," she murmured.

"Funny," a voice chimed in, "I was about to say the same thing."

She whirled around, betraying some of her fear to gaze at the source of the voice. There, to her surprise, was John McKenzie standing right beside her. He wasn't even looking at her; his eyes were fixed only on the creature in the other room.

"How did you get in?" she growled. "This is a restricted area, assigned only to the behavioral team. And as far as I know—"

"Funny you should start with that instead of asking me who I am," he commented. Then, with a sweeping look at the assistants, he shouted, "Relax, lads and lasses! He'll tire himself out! Eventually."

"I know who you are," Nettle replied. "Everyone knows about you and your … habits."

John raised his eyebrows at her. "Really? I would've thought that, being isolated in the Canadian arctic, you wouldn't have bothered with silly things like the news."

Nettle sneered and hesitated. No. No, he couldn't have known about her conversation with Professor Oak concerning the other McKenzie she had the displeasure of knowing. His word choice was just a coincidence.

"Answer my question, professor," she said.

He smirked and shoved his hands into his lab coat's pockets. "Now now. That's not polite. But if you need an answer, dear lass, the short of it is that uncovering information is my job, and despite what you might have heard, I take my job very seriously. What are doors? Just inconveniences between information and me, love."

"Don't you dare patronize me."

John held up a hand. "Was I? Sorry. I was merely saying that..." He trailed off briefly, turning his head towards Nettle. Then, his voice dropped to a low, clear tone. "I know quite a lot about you, Professor Yvonne Nettle. Aged fifty-one. Affiliations with Otter University in Otter City, Reste Region. Other affiliations include the Canadian branch of the Pokémon Symposium and Team Rocket."

The last two words hit Nettle hard, but somehow, she maintained her composure. All expression drained from her face except a stone-faced regality. She lifted her chin and pursed her lips at her companion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Too late for that, m'dear," John said with a grin. "I know exactly what happened to this young man … never mind William. Which one was your fault?"

Suddenly, Nettle was aware that there was no longer any sound coming from her side of the glass. All of the voices, all of the clicking, all of the footsteps—all of them died down until Nettle could only hear the blasts of electricity coming from the other side of the glass. As the seconds passed, she became increasingly aware of the fact that all eyes were on her. And in the corners of her line of vision, she noticed that all she could see were assistants. None of the researchers on the behavioral team were there. Where were they? Why didn't she notice them leave? How long were they gone?

"I thought it would be more appropriate to discuss our business alone," John told her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I hope you don't mind, but the rest of your team were delighted to take the rest of the day off. Seems like you aren't exactly popular among your crowd. And if what I've gathered is correct, then I'm not just talking about the behavioral team."

Nettle narrowed her eyes and turned her head to face the glass. "What do you want?"

"Answers, Professor Nettle. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Don't lie to me, professor."

John shrugged. "Okay, that's the first thing I've wanted. But the rest isn't any of your business, is it?" Then, his grin broadened. "Now. Tell me. Codename Adam was whose fault exactly?"

Nettle scoffed. "What? Your son starts off as William and ends as Codename Adam, and I'm the one you call a monster?" She shifted to look at him with a bored expression. "If you must know, the agent responsible for the violation to the Yeled Protocol is in Hoenn. She thinks she's honoring our organization by hunting down Codename Adam. I trust you know exactly where in that region she went."

"Of course I do. Do you?"

"No. Nor does my operation care. No one is going to retrieve her."

John sucked in a breath. "Ooh. Cold. She's one of your own, you know."

"As far as the operatives working under me are concerned, she became a traitor as soon as she violated the Yeled Protocol. We know better than to cross D.E.V.A.'s path."

"You mean you don't have any use for her, and we just happen to be a convenient excuse."

Nettle eyed him for a few seconds. Then, as the corners of her mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile, she replied, "Yes."

John chuckled and looked at the floor. "Very well. It's none of my business what you do with your subordinates."

"Exactly," Nettle replied. "And now, a question for you, Professor McKenzie."

He looked up at her in mock surprise. "Oi! Didja think we were playing a game, lassie?"

She crossed her arms. "Yes, and I know how you are with games. You answered my first question. I answered yours. If you answer my next question, then that means I will be forced to wait for another one from you … or for you to decide that the game is over. Doesn't that sound fair?"

"Aye," John replied, relaxing into a confident grin. "You know how to negotiate, Yvonne."

"Professor Nettle," she growled. "And only Professor Nettle. Understood?"

"My sincerest apologies."

She leered again at his light sarcasm but said nothing about it. Nothing at all was going to deflect her from her purpose. "Professor McKenzie. What are you to D.E.V.A.?"

"What am I?"

"I admit I know nothing of D.E.V.A.'s structure beyond what is implied by the Yeled Protocol, but even with that, I can tell that it's a bit extreme for any ordinary personnel. You have all of D.E.V.A.'s army protecting your children specifically, and it was drafted far before any of them mattered."

John smiled, but this time, there was something dark in that look. The way he stared at Nettle made her feel as if he could set her on fire with a glance, as if he could reach out and snap her head off her neck with a single twitch, as if he alone commanded the fury of the entire universe and was now holding it over her head and waiting for the right moment to drop it.

And for that briefest moment, Nettle was scared. Visibly scared.

"That's where you're wrong. They've always mattered," he replied happily. "And as for your question, I'm just a man who made a deal, love. That's all."

With that, he turned on his heel and trotted towards the door. After he crossed half of the room, he hesitated, sending another chill up Nettle's spine.

"By the way, Professor Nettle," he said, "don't you find Codename Abel particularly fascinating?"

John didn't give her a chance to respond. He only strutted the rest of the way out of the room.

The game, at last, had become interesting.