You wring your hands as N chats with Hoopa, this impish little purple thing with a mischievous glint in its eye that admittedly makes you a little nervous, while Touko continues gnawing at her thumb. Again, Champion May and Professor Birch Jr give you a respectful breadth. You think it's a little more insulting, but you have the sense not to say it.
You're here because N is your friend, and you know that this troubles him deeply. He and Touya had a strange sort of connection, according to Touko—something that was theirs and theirs only. Touya left Unova to search for N, which is how this all started, and now N probably feels responsible for the Hero of Truth's disappearance. He'll do anything to help, you know. Touko knows that too, which is probably why she agreed to let you both come along, even though she's an emotional wreck because her little brother is god-knows-where without a team to protect him.
You are a stranger here. You are the thing that is not like the others and doesn't belong. You know Touya in name only, in the admiring murmurs you've heard for the last six years. Touya Kokuen, Hero of Truth. The yin to N's yang. But you are here, and you are going to try to be helpful, and if that means being a shoulder to lean on, then okay, that's what you'll be.
"Okay, does it know what happened or not?" Touko demands suddenly, interrupting the conversation N and Hoopa were having in Poké-speak.
N sighs heavily, and you know instantly that something's wrong. "Hoopa claims that they pulled Reshiram from a rift in the dimensions."
Your jaw drops a little, while Touko blinks several times in rapid succession. "Okay," she says slowly, "so what the fuck does that mean? Where's Touya?"
"They don't know," N responds.
Touko bites at her thumb for moment and turns around so quickly her ponytail lashes the air. You look at N—he has dark circles under his eyes, and looks as though he hasn't slept in a while.
"Can this thing find him?" Touko asks suddenly, turning back around.
You glance at N, who says something to Hoopa. Hoopa replies enthusiastically, but N frowns. "They claim they can obtain the power to do so if we open the Prison Bottle that's currently in Champion Serena Senarak's possession," he reports.
"Great! Let's get that Prison Bottle!"
But you frown. "Champion Serena said to keep it closed."
"Fuck her. We need to find my brother."
"She says Hoopa will rampage."
"I'll rampage if you don't get that damned bottle." Touko turns to N. "You with me or against me Harmonia?"
N looks between Touko and Hoopa like he can't decide which outcome would be worse.
You open your mouth to make another argument, but Touko's HoloCaster trills and she groans. She answers it, glaring.
"Okay, what is so damn impor—" She stops. In the flickering image, you can see the back of Touko's mother's head. Touko's expression changes, softening from annoyance to confusion. "Mom? What's going— Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do mean— Slow down— What?"
You and N exchange a glance. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.
.
.
.
100KR changes his codename to "Looker" because he's tried of numbers and he doesn't want to be a statistic. 414 was a statistic. They held a funeral, and then expected everyone to get right back to work. 000 makes no secret how bitter he is about that.
About a year the Task Force succeeded/failed, Looker is assigned to a case in Sinnoh. It's there that he finally becomes aware of what 414 was talking about—he is clumsy with the Sinnohan language, easily distracted, inexperienced. He either arrives too early or too late, and he ends up allowing a fourteen-year-old girl he enlisted to do most of the heavy lifting.
By the end, though, he successfully arrests Charon, and he counts that as a victory. A small one, but a victory nonetheless.
Looker is offered a promotion afterwards. He turns it down, because he knows he's not ready.
.
.
.
Riley meets Looker at the station, his blue ensemble a sharp contrast from the usual blacks and greys of the locals. He grins and waves, and Looker wonders how Riley can stand the frigid temperatures, because Looker is dressed in a thermal-lined trench coat and a wool scarf and he's shivering.
"How was your train ride?" the freelancer asks smoothly.
Looker shrugs. It was just like any other train. "Fine. Anabel called on the way. She says 'hi'."
Riley arches a brow, and there's a glint in his eye that Looker finds disconcerting. "You gave her your number?"
"...for work emergencies, yes." Looker feels it imperative that he not mention that Touya's mental state might be compromised. Besides, he has to decide that for himself.
"Oh really?" Now Riley is speaking in a different tone, one reserved for school children talking about crushes. Ah, that again. Riley really needs to learn to let some things go.
Looker decides to change the subject. "How is Touya?"
Riley doesn't bite. "Changing the subject old timer?"
Looker shoves it down his throat. "Early forties is not old. How is Touya?"
Riley sighs. "He's... okay, at best. He's been having nightmares, though, and I think the whole loss of identity thing has really hit him hard." Another sigh, and he runs a hand roughly over his face. "I really wish I could read Fallers the same way I can with normal people."
But the Wormhole aura gets in the way, is what he doesn't say. He doesn't have to.
"I've told him a little about you," Riley goes on, "so he won't be that wary."
"You didn't have to—"
"Yeah, but I did." Riley shrugs, but the movement is fast, jerky. "He's staying at the Center, but he visits the library a lot. He's probably there now. Want me to walk you there?"
It's been a while since Looker saw Riley in person, and it'll be a while until the last time. Best to take full advantage. "Of course. It'll be good to catch up."
"So," Riley begins with a knowing smirk as they start walking, "how're things with Anabel?"
.
.
.
You haven't really been off Ula'ula since the incident, aside from the occasional "Kahuna meeting" or whatever, which you always drag your feet to. This is the first time you've been off your island for something unrelated. But, to be fair, it's also the first time you've been caught up in the IP while being on the other side—the civilian side. So, everything about this is uncharted territory. It's a little tiring, honestly.
"So you actually came alone, without any Pokémon, to act as Ana's bodyguard?" You arch a brow. You've known 100KR—or, "Looker" now—for a long time, but you've never known him to be this stupid. No, something else is going on. You may be retired, but you've still got a detective's mind, and you'll be damned if you miss such an obvious clue. "Please tell me you're not being serious."
Your former subordinate doesn't respond. That's all the answer you need to know there's some serious bullshit going on inside his head.
You groan and massage your temples. Fucking hell, you're getting too old to deal with the shit of the younger generation. Granted, there's maybe less than a decade between you two, but age is a state of mind and you feel a hell of a lot older, so that should count for something. "Are you outta your goddamn mind? Those UBs'll kill you, KR. Without hesitation."
"I realize that." He's gotten more fluid, you think. Good for him. Y'know, besides the part where he's being suicidal and all.
"What do you think that'll accomplish?" you demand. "You won't exactly make a good bodyguard without a way to defend yourself."
KR is silent, and a sickening thought hits you. Again, you groan.
"Please tell me you are not planning to be a goddamned Substitute."
He sighs, but does not deny it.
Fuck this. Fuck this, you're done with the IP. You've been done with the IP for years. You should be at home tending to your dozens of Meowth like the crazy old bastard you are and not dealing with this shit.
"You are a goddamned—" You don't finish. You just run a hand over your face. You know what to say, but it still stings. "If you die, Nadia'll have died for nothing. You know that right?"
KR is silent. You hope that's enough to make him rethink his ludicrous scheme. He's not your responsibility, but you still gotta worry. It's practically in your genes by now, worrying.
Fuck my life, you think.
.
.
.
Looker loses Croagunk during a mission in Johto to investigate the more sinister factions of the revived Team Rocket. He ran into a grunt with unusually high-leveled Pokémon and a gun strapped to his hip. It all happened so fast that Looker could hardly believe it.
His superiors insisted he take a leave while he dealt with his bereavement. They had offered the same when 414 had died, and that memory, alongside the fresh pain of losing Croagunk... it's too much, it's too much. He accepts without hesitation.
It's during this time that he begins to grow skeptic of his superiors. After a month or so, most agents are pressured into returning to work. Looker is not. He finds this very unusual.
Now that he thinks about it, the top brass has always shown Looker an unusual level of favoritism. Swift promotion, never forcing him to ditch his accent. They even offer him a new partner almost immediately (even though you have to earn that right, and there's usually a two-year vetting period after a death like this, to make sure something like this was less likely to happen again), which Looker declines. The process of choosing a partner was not something that could be rushed or forced. Bonds needed to be formed naturally, and right now, Looker didn't think he could bond with any Pokémon right now.
"So did you hear about Anabel's promotion?" Riley asks. Looker's former pupil has taken to visiting him occasionally, offering condolences, a shoulder to lean on, and even a distracting brand of small talk.
Looker blinks. "I had not, in fact."
"Yeah. She's becoming a chief—and old Zeroes is retiring, they say."
Looker had heard about 000's retirement. He hadn't heard about Anabel. "Rather soon, is it not?"
Riley arches a brow. "Zeroes, or Ana?"
"Anabel. And Riley, you must respect for your superiors. Yes, even your future superiors, you must respect."
"I don't have to respect you and you're my superior," Riley points out.
"That is different. I am your mentor, and I encourage my students to speak freely." Looker finds it a little unusual, this Anabel business, but he shrugs. "I am glad for Anabel, though. She is deserving of it."
"You don't find it weird that she's being promoted so quickly?" Riley asks, carefully observing Looker's face, which the agent tries to keep neutral. Riley can read auras and emotions, but he always seems to have trouble reading Looker and Anabel. "I mean, she was just made agent last year, and she didn't have a long enough trainer period."
"Nor did I," Looker admits in a moment of candor. "My own promotion, it was quite hasty also."
"That so?"
Looker nods.
"Huh. Maybe it's because you two are nicer than the rest of the lot." Riley speaks with a joking tone and face that suggests he's just thinking out loud. "Or it could have something to do with that weird aura have."
Looker stops. Blinks. "Pardon?"
"Your weird aura. Y'know—violet, brown, yellow. All rippling like a pond. It makes you both, you and Anabel, impossible to read," Riley explains casually. He stops when he notices Looker's uncomprehending expression and frowns. "You...don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Looker shakes his head.
Riley's brows furrow. "...huh."
.
.
.
You've just finished moving into your new office when there's a rapping on the door. "Just a sec," you call as you fidget with the knickknacks you've set up on your desk. Yes, you're a little OCD. Your colleagues tease you about it constantly, but you don't care. It's a little thing that makes you feel like your own person, and as an amnesiac, you feel like you deserve to develop some quirks to keep you grounded.
You answer the door, and your smile dissipates.
Mr. Looker.
You feel like you should explain yourself here. It's not that you dislike Mr. Looker or anything. You're actually quite fond of him. You've known him for as long as you can remember (which is, to say a few years since you woke up on the beach that fateful day). He has sort of mentored you, showed you the ropes and the inner workings of the IP alongside old Agent 000, who you hear is due for retirement soon. But not long after you received word of your promotion, Mr. Looker seemed intent to dissuade you from accepting it, for whatever reason. He has countless reasons, of course, but none of them make sense to you: maybe this promotion wasn't a good thing, maybe you weren't ready. A thousand maybes, nothing concrete.
You cross your arms and try to remain civil. No arguing, not now. "Can I help you Mr. Looker?"
He holds up his left hand, and it's then that you see he's holding a bottle of champagne by the neck. The look he gives you is apologetic, of all thing. "I came to offer an official apology to you, Chief Anabel."
Chief Anabel. You sort of like the way that sounds. It doesn't particularly excuse his attitude, but it makes you willing to invite him in and hear him out. Because you get a feeling that you'll get a real reason out of him now, and not another maybe.
"I am apologizing for my recent attitude," he says, placing the bottle on your desk so that he doesn't disturb your knickknacks. He's always been considerate that way. "It was uncalled for, and uncouth, and I hope we can, as you say, make amends."
"Oh?" You arch a brow and take a closer look at the champagne. It's the good stuff, too. This is a genuine apology. "What made you change your mind?"
He winces, even though your tone is careful neutral. "It occurred to me, sometime last night, that this promotion—to accept or decline, it is your call. You decide what is best for you."
You're admittedly taken aback. An apology you were expecting, but not for him to change his mind so quickly. "Oh. That's... thank you, Mr. Looker. I accept your apology."
But Looker shakes his head. "Not yet, Chief. I feel as though I should explain myself first."
"Um." You feel he doesn't have to, and you really don't want to revisit the argument, but you are admittedly curious. "Only if you want to."
Looker sighs heavily, and brushes imaginary dust off his trench coat, the way he does when he's nervous. "You see, Chief, I too was promoted quickly. Too quickly. My mission in Sinnoh—ce fut un désastre."
This startles you. You've heard a very different account of Looker's mission in Sinnoh. "Really?"
"Indeed. My mission, it was terrible. My inexperience, you see, it was of a great hindrance to me. Yes, in the end, I succeeded, but not without adversity and very much of it." He eyes you with a weariness you've never seen in him before. All these years, and you've never seen him look quite so old. "I am just worried that you may suffer similarly, Chief. To move quickly can be good, but there are things to learn along the way, and they can help you very much. I just hope that inexperience will not be your undoing."
"No, I understand. That... makes a lot of sense, actually." You look down at your feet, feeling a little stupid. This is not another maybe. This is deep and heartfelt and him looking out for you, like always. You should have known. "Mr. Looker, I—"
"Ah, let us not focus on this." Mr. Looker picks up the bottle and pulls a cork remover out of his pocket. "Come—let us toast your success, for it is well deserved."
You allow yourself a chuckle. Right. Today is meant to be a good day. "Oh, Mr. Looker. We should probably toast to Zeroes's retirement, too, y'know."
You see a flash of teeth in his smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "To that, I will drink."
.
.
.
Looker finds 000 just as he's about to leave. His superior looks surprised to see him, then he cracks his signature smirk.
"Oh, what's this? You coming to say goodbye, rookie?" 000 is trying to make a joke out a bittersweet occasion—retirement. In Looker's opinion, 000 still has a few good years left in him, but the loss of a partner is a crippling pain that Looker can now fully sympathize with.
That's not why he's here, though. And 000 seems to realize that.
"Anabel isn't the first to come through the Wormhole, is she?" Looker is a clever man, and he is a damn good detective.
000 drops the façade and heaves a sigh. "You really want to know about this, KR?"
"I really do."
"...fine."
000 leads him to a private, unoccupied office, quickly checks for bugs (finding none), blocks all the vents, and tells him to speak in a low voice. Then, 000 tells him everything—about Fallers, about the UBs, about the IP's used of Fallers, everything. All the things that Looker needed to know and then some, highly classified, a secret barred off by bright red tape with "danger" scrawled across. It occurs to Looker that 000 could get into a lot of trouble for revealing this, so it's a good thing the man is retiring.
When all is said and done, there is silence.
Looker's jaw twitches. "It was me that the UBs were targeting, then."
It's not a question. There are no more questions.
"You can't blame yourself for what happened to Nadia, KR," 000 says quietly, like he can read Looker's mind. "That wasn't your fault."
But it was. He was the target. She had gotten in the way. That's what happened.
"With Anabel, it will be the same, will it not?"
000 sighs, and it occurs to Looker, just then, that despite being his superior, Looker is taller. At least half a foot taller. "One day. Until they figure out how to stop Wormholes from opening and the UBs from getting through, the top brass'll keep any Faller they can get their hands on in reserve."
"...I see."
"Don't beat yourself up. This shit was going on long before you showed up," 000 says.
"It is wrong," Looker retorts.
000 pauses for a moment. "...now you see why I'm retiring."
In fact, Looker does. If he had to deal with this knowledge on a daily basis, he might have become quite cynical himself.
000 fixes Looker with a crimson stare. "One last piece of advise from your superior officer: just watch yourself. This place ain't too kind to people like you, not underneath it all."
Looker bows his head. He will take those words to heart, even years later. Because 000 has done something not many have done with him in the past—be honest with him. "A thousand thanks, Chief."
"Nanu," 000 corrects him with a hint of warmth. "I'm not your chief anymore."
.
.
.
Looker gets back to work after that.
It's exactly three years after the death of his partner Croagunk that he becomes the lead investigator on a case in Unova.
.
.
.
The library in Snowpoint is chilly, even with the heat on. Touya wonders, briefly, how much the city spends on heating. Riley says that there's snow up until late spring and the summers are mild at best.
He's pouring over a book of Unovan mythology. He's not entirely sure what he's hoping to find in the thick parchment pages and the whimsically idyllic illustrations. Some connection, some recollection. He was probably from Unova, so maybe the mythos will strike something.
Other than the fact that he's more partial to Reshiram than Zekrom (mostly aesthetically, not because he prefers Truth to Ideals or whatever), Touya can't think of anything he finds significant. Although, he does find it a little amusing to read about an ice dragon who is thought to be an empty void while sitting in a library, surrounded by constant snowfall, while there's an empty space where his memories should be.
Or maybe he just has some sick sense of humor.
He's reading a page about the Swords of Justice when there's a rapping on the table. Touya glances up. Riley has returned, but now he's accompanied by an unfamiliar man in a trench coat.
Touya straightens a little. "You must be the infamous Looker. I've heard a lot about you."
"Yes. Riley seems to have taken it upon himself to color your opinion." The man speaks with a faint accent, Touya notices. Though where that accent is from, he doesn't know. Looker gestures to the seat opposite to Touya. "May I sit?"
"Sure." Looker sits, and Touya watches. He doesn't look quite as old as Riley made him out to be. "Just so you know, I take almost everything I hear with a grain of salt."
Looker looks amused. "Is that so?"
Touya nods.
"An attitude I can appreciate. It is important to think for one's own self, after all."
Riley claps his hands together loudly. "Well, I think I'll leave you to it."
And then he goes, leaving Touya alone with Looker.
Looker eyes the book Touya was reading in a contemplative manner. "A mythology buff, are you?"
"Oh! Uh..." A pang of shame goes through Touya, like a child getting his hand caught in the cookie jar. He quickly closes the book and peers down at the leather-bound cover instead of Looker's face. "I-I was just—"
"No need to explain," Looker says pleasantly, like reading books about old gods and legends isn't weird. Maybe it's not, to him. "Mythology can be quite fascinating. The previous Champion, Cynthia, was quite a mythology buff herself. I had the privilege of meeting her once, and she spoke with me about some very intriguing legends in Sinnoh's mythos."
"Unova's is just full of fighting," Touya says before he can stop himself. He quickly clamps his mouth shut. That was a weird thing to say, why did he say that?
But Looker chuckles. "A very warlike culture, indeed." Touya feels a little like that was an insult, but Looker's expression sobers before he can comment. "But, ah, we can discuss mythology another time, yes? I am here to talk with you."
"Yeah. Riley mentioned that you want me to help with an investigation or something." And was very ambiguous about it. Needless to say, Touya is wary.
"Mm, yes. It is very important, this investigation. But very long. I cannot guarantee that you can help immediately, so..." Looker drums his fingers against the tabletop. "The IP would like to formally extend an invitation to you."
"What?" That doesn't make sense. Asking an amnesiac kid to help with an investigation is odd enough. Asking an amnesiac kid to join the IP is absolutely bizarre. Alarm bells are ringing here. "Why?"
Looker's mouth twitches. "I cannot say."
Yeah. That's not suspicious at all. "Is it some classified thing? Because I'm not going to be part of some international cover-up."
"Oh, no, no. Nothing like that." Looker looks amused at the notion. "You are not a victim of any scandal, Touya."
Touya frowns. "Okay, but. You gotta realize how suspicious this is."
"I understand how you must be feeling about—"
Something bubbles in Touya's throat, soft at first but steadily louder. It takes him a moment to recognize it as laughter, of all things, bitter and harsh and slightly manic.
"You know nothing about how I feel, okay?" Touya snaps harshly. He's still laughing a little, sardonic and slightly cruel. "Don't pretend like you know how I feel just get whatever it is you came here to get. I don't give a shit about whatever bureaucratic BS you came here to drop, but do not pretend—"
"You were reading that book," Looker interrupts in slow, steady voice, "because you thought doing so might bring back a memory from your childhood—the place you grew up, a bedtime story, something of that nature."
Touya clamps his mouth shut, eyes widening.
"You are desperate for any scrap of nostalgia or recollection, because you have nothing," he goes on, in the same damningly neutral tone. And his face is a mask carved from impassive stone. "You are also angry that this happened to you, angry that people are treating you like a charity case and pitying you, because you do not like that you are afflicted with something worth pitying. You are confused and do not understand what has happened, and you apply that same wariness to everything because you feel that if you cannot trust your own mind, then you cannot trust anything else in this world. You are sad because the only things you retained seem insignificant, some feeling of duty that you will never be able to complete now that the pieces are missing, and that thing you retained will now be for naught."
Touya curls his hands into fists, blinking rapidly.
Looker gets to his feet and walks around the table, then takes the seat next to Touya, and there's a hint of something sad in his eyes just then that makes Touya's lungs give out. "But most of all, you are scared, because you have nightmares every night that you can never wake up upon remembering. You are scared because you think you will never find out who you are, who you were, and for the rest of the life you will always be asking that same question and never receiving an answer. You are scared because you think that if you cannot find where you were from, you will never find an ending. You are scared because you think that if you cannot find out who you were, you will never be anything any more than a husk of someone who no longer exists.
"But most of all—you scared because you are alone and you think no one can possibly understand how you feel. And that is where you are wrong."
Touya takes a shuddering breath that comes out in a sob.
.
.
.
Looker remembers:
May, who was kind enough to help him but whom he never saw again, and while he does lament never being able to repay her beyond a mere trinket, he knows it is probably best he remain a mere memory to her. She does not need the burden of the IP and their politics in her region.
Dawn, the girl who helped him in Sinnoh and reminds him very much of 414 in the fact that she is distant and proper and focuses very much on professionalism, and thus looked upon him with a sort of haughty disdain. Yet he still remembers the way she looked stunned, and even saddened, when he announced his mission was complete and that he was leaving Sinnoh.
Serena, the Hoenn-born Kalosian Champion who looked pretty but acted rather uncouth, who liked to tease him good-naturedly and had a bawdy laugh that filled the whole room. She called him infuriating on a regular, almost daily basis, but she wished him well and gave him a hug and insisted that he not be a stranger, do you understand, old man?
Emma, the girl on the street who called him "old" but looked up to him, a thousand study sessions slowly shaping their relationship and led to the shedding of tears when all was said and done. He thought her too attached to Xerosic, given how he treated her, but that was a trivial thing, and he gave her the Bureau in Lumiose to run in his name.
Sun, the boy from Alola who was quiet and gentle, but fierce in battle and in matters of family, who took the role of UB hunter to spare his twin sister, Champion of Alola, who would have only been another target. He was honest and just and warm, but there was a seriousness to him that aged him a little, and Looker couldn't help but be reminded a little of himself.
.
.
.
Looker remembers:
Touya, fierce and sarcastic and with a biting wit, still recovering from what he'd witnessed in Unova and yearning for a person who left. Who helped reluctantly and fought ferociously, who felt and thought deeply, who spoke bluntly, and rarely took things at face value. Who had a conviction and a passion so strong it had moved even a sleeping demigod, and who never hesitated when it really counted and utilized every opportunity.
.
.
.
Now:
Touya sobs into Looker's coat, broken and empty and terrified out of his mind.
.
.
.
"You could go back to Unova, yes, but I am in doubt of it doing you much good," Looker explains. They are still in the library, and Touya is drying his eyes. Back to business, back to protocol. It's horrible to force Touya into making a decision, but this whole situation is horrible, and a decision must be made, ultimately. "Whatever life was there for you will not be should you go back. It is near impossible to return to a place you no longer fit into."
"I get that." Touya's smile is small, but too fierce, sardonic. "It's better to let whoever is missing me move on. Better to let them think I'm dead in a ditch somewhere instead of amnesiac in a ditch somewhere."
"Exactly." It's painful to say, but there it is. "There is also the option of you settling down in another region, but I do not know how well that will work for you, in all honesty."
Touya hums. He is dealing with this in a way that is startling mature. Perhaps he just needed to exhaust himself, emotionally, and not keep it all bottled in. "Which leaves the IP."
Looker pauses. "...yes."
Here is his chance to give a warning. Maybe his only chance.
Touya's title from before—it was Hero of Truth.
"However, there is something about the IP you should know," Looker begins to explain, and Touya looks alarmed as at this. "People like you, like us—there is a double standard. A shadow half. Joining the International Police may be the best choice, but it may not be the choice that is most good. Does this make sense?"
Touya hesitates for a moment. Then, quietly, "...does it help people, this 'investigation'?"
Looker remembers 414 getting snapped up by Glutton, by jaws meant for him. He remembers Croagunk dying because of his inexperience.
But he also remembers Serena and Dawn and Emma, remembers Sun and 000 and Riley. He remembers that people were saved, each and every time. They were oblivious, unknowing of the danger that lurked behind dimensional walls or in the vortex of timespace or in the Lumiose underground, but lives were saved.
"Yes," Looker says without hesitation. It's why, unlike 000, he can't just quit and walk away. He simply can't. "Sometimes you do not think it is worth it, but I have always believed it is."
Touya remains silence, considering. His brown eyes dark and uncertain but not quite so scared. "...I think I understand."
He accepts.
.
.
.
"Touya" is a remnant of a life that no longer exists. He decides to change his name—Blair Hilbert. It's a dumb name, he knows, but the guys in intelligence are very defensive about fake identities, so he ends up just going by his codename: Black.
He earns the agent title after three years of training, which is apparently rather unusual, if what Anabel said was to believed. The memory of Looker's warning is still fresh in Black's mind. He accepts, but he insists that he's not ready for any major missions, and requests to be put on filing duty.
He still gets a desk and an office, though. It's a perk too good to pass up.
When he enters his new office, he finds an unopened bottle of champagne on his desk, a sloppily-tied red bow on the neck, with a manila folder next to it marked "classified". There's a note taped to the bottle's neck, hidden by the bow. Black arches a brow—the handwriting is calligraphic, flowing and artsy and unmistakable.
I thought you might appreciate this.
Many congratulations.
—Looker
On the back, it says:
I wish you the best of luck in your pursuits, Agent Black.
—100KR
.
.
.
The file is of someone named "N Harmonia", an accomplice in an event that took place in Unova about nine years ago, arrested but never convicted due to the fact that several testimonies corroborated that the man was manipulated by the true perpetrator—his emotional abusive adoptive father, Ghetsis Harmonia (who was found after another event in Unova, succeeding the previous one by two years, and then given the death penalty). Black reads the file from back to front, though he can't quite determine what it is that makes him do it, why he finds this file to be so significant. Maybe it's the fact that it took place in Unova, where Black is supposedly from. Maybe it's the fact that it involves Unova mythology coming to life, a white dragon and a black dragon clashing, ying and yang. Or, maybe it's because one testimony really strikes him—it's one of the handful that were taken before the second event, and apparently the last of the three that are eye-witness accounts of the "climactic battle" that occurred at the League. Apparently, this witness was a participant in the event.
Black can't determine who that person is, though. With startling consistency, that one name is repeatedly blacked out and redacted in every part of the file that mentions them. Summery of the event, testimony, everything. The transcriber's note says that this is because the witness wished to remain anonymous, which Black can honestly understand. If it was him, in that position, he'd have been the same way, not wanting all that unnecessary attention.
But why is the file here, anyway?
.
.
.
Black comes into Looker's office with a glint in his eye that demands they talk. It's not long after Looker's returned from another mission, and he's still jet-lagged, but he's willing to listen to what Black has to say.
"You knew me before, didn't you?" Black demands before Looker can say anything, without even a greeting.
Looker eases into his chair with a stiff sigh. It's less or a question, more of a statement. Even without the Wormhole aura, Black is a clever one, and he'll make a damn good agent—that's how Looker sees it, anyway. The conviction in Black's eyes is enough to let Looker know that denying it won't work.
So he just doesn't deny it. "What gave it away?"
Black snorts and drops a file on Looker's desk, splaying his fingers across the folder. His eyes are dark and dancing and serious. "Why did you give me this, Looker? What are you trying to tell me?"
Looker takes a pen and gently poked Black's pointer finger to the side. The file reads "Harmonia" and that makes Looker frown. "Where did you get this?"
Black blinks. "You... didn't give me this?"
"No." That would have been a direct violation of protocol. "I left you a bottle of champagne, and I couldn't bring it to you in person because I was out on a mission. But I did not leave you this."
"Then who—" Black stops, then sighs. "Is Riley on-site?"
"No." But Marley is—and she's one of Riley's freelancer friends. They're their own little family, those five. They look out for each other, and while Riley is the only one in the know about the UBs and Fallers, the others have sensed and picked up his distrust of the bureaucratic inner workings. As a result, they tend to generally distrust most agents and don't always follow protocol to the letter, and sometimes take things into their own hands. Mira, for example, likes to hack discretely, and Marley is famous for "misplacing" files, which eventually show up right back where they belong a few days later, as though nothing ever happened. Thankfully, only a handful of more lenient agents like Looker are aware of their transgressions. Perhaps one of the crew did some digging and decided to drop a hint.
Black's jaw twitches. "...huh."
Looker cups his chin in his hand. "Might I ask a question, agent?"
"Um. Sure?"
"Are you still searching for that person?" Looker asks quietly. "The one you were looking for back then?"
Black winces and then looks down guiltily. "...not as a priority—"
"It is not an accusation, agent. It was merely a curiosity." Looker pauses and sits up a little straighter in his seat. "And I hope you find them."
Black eyes him for a moment, then, "Do you know who it is?"
Looker can only shake his head. "I am afraid not. When I met you, you were not quite so inclined to discuss more personal matters with me."
Black snorts. "Well, thanks anyway. Hey—did you hear that my new partner knows you?"
"Oh?"
"Yeah. An ex-Champion. Her codename is 'Winter', but her real name is Dawn Everette." Black gives Looker a meaningful look.
The older agent chuckles, recalling the way Dawn eyed him with unmitigated disdain when he first introduced herself and the grim look of determination she'd worn when they'd infiltrated Galactic's base together. "Oh, I know her all right. Don't worry—you'll get along just fine."
.
.
.
Another three years later, and Black ends up on a mission in Unova, despite his protests at being put on the case. But Winter accepted, and she's a bit domineering and she likes to make the call on which cases they take, and this is a pretty big case—human and Pokémon trafficking—so Black's agreed to it, if only because he knows how much she wants to take on an important case like this.
They split up—Winter takes the west, Black takes the east. He cooperates with law enforcement while Winter goes solo, and she has the luxury of doing that because she has a full team of six, while all Black has is an old, blue-furred Sylveon named Gizmo who apparently belonged to a former agent and a rather moody Luxio he's named Danica, who is an absolute beast in the field. Anyway, Black works with the police, and he's not always the best at playing with others but teamwork does have its perks, he will admit. He ends up finished with his end much faster than her.
He's sitting on the patio of a café in Castelia, enjoying the shade of an umbrella strapped to the table, when he gets a call and picks up. "It's about time you called."
"How's it going?" Winter asks. Her voice is deceptively soft, like snow, and does well to conceal the harshness she has about her. But he likes the fact that she doesn't mince words and try to beat around the bush. It's a refreshing honesty in a world of bureaucratic BS. "Did you get anything useful?"
"Better than that—I busted a bunch of guys, caught them in the act." Black leans back in his seat, satisfied. "One of the higher-up guys, too. Police are questioning him now."
"And you didn't tell me?"
Black frowns. "You're the one who always says not to interrupt you when you're 'in the zone'."
"...fair enough," she concedes. "Where are you now?"
"Getting Gizmo and Danica some biscuits for a job well done." Danica is currently curled up lazily at his feet, a yawn revealing teeth and a blushing pink tongue, while the former has wrapped itself around Black's shoulders like a scarf. Absently, Black gives Gizmo a scratch behind the ears. "And I'm getting coffee because it's been a long night and I'm exhausted."
Winter lets out a mock-derisive snort. "God, I hate you."
Black smirks. "That's not true and you know it."
"Yes it is!" she snaps back, though it's mostly empty banter between partners and they both know it. There's an inflection of humor in her voice. "Do you know what it's like to work with someone who constantly jumps the gun?"
He snorts good-naturedly. "I do not jump the—"
"...Touya?"
Black stops. Blinking, he glances at his left—there's a stranger there standing beyond the iron-wrought fence that encloses the patio. Because the table Black is sitting as next to is in close proximity to said fence, the stranger is really close. "What?" Black asks, while at the same time thinking, how the hell does this guy know my old name?
"That is... you, isn't it?" The stranger has minty hair, and lots of it. He's tall, so Black has to look up at him, and he looks vaguely familiar, though Black can't figure out for the life of him why. "I almost didn't recognize you."
Um. Okay. This is worrying. Danica lifts her head and sniffs at the stranger through the bars of the gate, her pink nose twitching. Gizmo growls and nuzzles his snout deeper into Black's collar, flattening his ears to block out the noise made by the city. Black just stares for a moment while Winter continues to talk in his ear.
"Uh, hold on a sec," Black says to her. He turns to the stranger and paints on a smile of forced politeness. "Sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else."
"But—"
"I just—I don't know you. I'm sorry." Black tries to smile, and pretend like he isn't missing an opportunity to pursue his past, because he decided a long time ago that he was done chasing the past. He decided long ago that it was just selfish to do so, that it would just cause unnecessary pain to any loved ones out there. Besides, what would it accomplish? It won't fix his amnesia anyway. There was just nothing that could be gained from it. So in the end, he decided to, just, stop.
Really, it's for the best.
The stranger eyes him for a second, then bows his head apologetically. "I see. My mistake, it seems."
"It's fine," Black says.
"Black?" comes Winter's voice over the line, sharp and insistent. "Black! Are you still there?"
Black brings the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, sorry, Winter. I'm still here."
"What happened? Where'd you go?"
"Uh." Black glances back over to the left. The stranger is gone, vanishing into the perpetual crowd. "Nothing that'll happen again. Sorry."
There's a pause on the other end, and then Winter asks, "Can I ask a personal question?"
"Sure." He knows she'll ask anyway, even if he says no.
"Are you... using this time to, um, to look for that mystery person?"
Black snorts. He regrets telling her about that, because she always seems to use it against him whenever things don't go her way. He'll give her one thing, she knows how to use every opportunity to advantage. "Not at the moment, no. And not while I'm on a mission."
Yes, he said he was going to give up on the past, but this is just one thing he can't let go. It's sad, how it needles him, this need to search for whoever it is that's missing, whoever it is that keeps Black awake at night, wondering, wondering. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to give the search up, even if he wanted to.
"Okay. Because I just.. I don't think it's going to end well. I'm sorry, but that's what I think." She doesn't need to say this. She's said it before, she's said it many times before. But she always says it again. "It's just too big a world, Black. Without any clear parameters, it's unlikely that you'll ever find them, whoever they are."
"Maybe." Black turns back to the crowd, and belatedly remembers why the stranger looks familiar—from the Harmonia file. Huh. What a coincidence. "But I'll know them when I see them."
Author's Note:
Oh my god, this started as a headcannon with Faller!Touya and then this turned into a Looker backstory thing. I didn't even fully support the Faller!Looker theory until I got into this. (I mean, I still think it's definitely an intriguing concept and really adds some depth to his character)
I wrote this for three days straight and it took me to some deep places, so I hope you enjoyed!
That's all,
Luna