POV: Cynthia / LOCATION: Sinnoh League
Several months have passed since the raid on Galactic HQ.
Guess what? I got all my Pokemon back! They were indeed kept in the building, imprisoned in the basement/secret laboratory. I knew Galactic was a cult, but it never crossed my mind that they actually engaged in illegal experimentation—a scenario straight out of a B-class science fiction flick. Needless to say, all damning evidence was confiscated. Including the bombs.
Oh boy, don't get me started with the bombs. The remote Cyrus had threatened to press was as real as the fat on a Spoink. If detonated, one Galactic Bomb would blow Veilstone sky-high, killing thousands of innocent lives. Crazy motherfucker wasn't just your everyday cult leader. He also aspired to be a domestic terrorist. And succeeded.
Anyway, he's locked up in prison. The last time Looker came to give updates, Cyrus had regained consciousness only recently. Authorities are waiting until he can walk again to begin the interrogation.
And I will be there. Relishing every truth that will be slowly, painfully extracted from his treacherous tongue.
Until then, however, I sit on my throne in the Champion's Room, impatiently curling a lock of hair around my finger. I was told that we would no longer accept walk-ins due to the sheer volume of interested Challengers. Recently we've switched to a reservation system, and during the first twenty minutes of its implementation the waitlist already spanned into the months.
So why is the Champion's Room emptier than Cyrus's promises?
If there is a problem, then it's usually from the room before mine (also known as the Weed-Out Class due to its sudden spike in difficulty which often took overzealous Trainers by surprise). So I check it out.
"Espeon, Signal Beam."
One sinister beam of light later, and the battle is over. Calling it a "battle" is a disservice to Trainers to everywhere. The spectacle that ended as quickly as it began was a one-sided slaughter.
"What's the big idea?" I huff.
"I am merely doing my job," is Lucian's breezy reply.
"Well, you're doing your job too well! No one has been able to get through!"
"No one has convinced me they deserved to be let through. Sure, they defeated the eight Gym Leaders, Aaron, Bertha, and Flint. But my rules are different. Not one Challenger has exhibited any personal growth, nor a desire to better themselves through battle. Why pass them if all they wanted was to meet the Savior of Sinnoh?"
Savior of Sinnoh? How petty can he be? Sure, "Savior of Sinnoh" was an inside joke between Flint, Volkner, and me—not to mention I did save the region from an omnicidal maniac—but I am not one to allow newfound fame to inflate my head!
"You're just jealous because you weren't part of the raid," I say.
"The raid where you allegedly poisoned the target, destroyed not only Galactic HQ but a third of Veilstone, stood idle while a Pokemon was shot down—"
"The Crobat jumped into the line of fire! And Cyrus didn't even touch the pills!"
Lucian removes his tinted eyeglasses and peers at me from the corner of his eyes.
"The Sinnoh League has been funding one hundred per cent of the Veilstone rebuilding effort."
"We are?" I blurt. This is the first time I've heard of this.
"You didn't know?" he says. I cannot tell if he is genuinely surprised or his sarcasm is so thick it mimics the real thing.
"I thought Interpol was in charge of the clean-up."
"Restoring cities scorched by meteors is not under their job description, Miss Cynthia. Neither is mine, but who else will shoulder the responsibility of cleaning up after your mess?"
Yup. Definitely jealous he missed out on the action. Before I can conjure up a fitting remark, a familiar man and his cruffy overcoat runs in the scene.
"Champion Cynthia!"
Exuberant as always, my dear Interpol agent. You might as well give him a toy each time he comes over to play.
"Cynthia is fine," I say.
Looker blushes.
"We don't have to do this every time," I say gently.
"I still cannot believe I had the incredible honor to work alongside the Champion of Sinnoh! My peers refuse to believe me. They have been in Interpol much longer but have never collaborated with any of the regions' mightiest Trainers!"
Lucian clears his throat. Looker snaps back to professional mode, although with a boyish grin still tugging at his lips.
"I bring you updates. The Crobat has made a full recovery. We will be releasing all five of his Pokemon back to the wild soon."
Wonderful! Those poor Pokemon. Imagine what they had to endure under that lunatic's command.
"Cyrus has been discharged from the hospital and is now in his cell. Whenever you want to speak to him, let me know."
Oh, I will be doing more than just speaking to him.
"I shall accompany you as well," Lucian says.
"Why?" My voice comes out higher than I wanted.
"To prevent reckless accidents, of course."
"You are insufferable!"
Looker gives us a few minutes before continuing. "I also want to introduce you to someone very special. He has been indispensable in taking the Team Galactic down. Guess who?"
"The rat," Lucian says flatly, not even sparing poor Looker a chance.
When the informant arrives, he smiles at me in such a way that I break out in the sudden urge to take a cold shower.
"My name is Charon," he says. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady."