Chapter 10: Emily Prest

Mathew jolted awake, spinning his head left and right. Beverly and Kell, he had been fighting them and… He…wasn't fighting them anymore, was he.

The cubone found himself somewhere entirely different from the Waregle. It was small in width but rather large in height. Attached to the door towards his right was a comical number of door handles, accommodating for almost any size. As he shimmied around, he felt beneath him some cheap and rubbery bedding that he doubted he would ever fall asleep on willingly.

More important than that, however, was the people he was sharing this room with. On the left side of the bed was a weird-looking duck that Mathew could only compare to a misshapen pineapple. He was holding a jar of seeds with small green stems sticking out of them. Mathew felt like he vaguely recognized them. They resembled those 'Reviver Seeds' Meowth and Breloom had used back in Asulaguah Beach.

There was somebody else in what Mathew was now understanding to be a clinic of sorts. On the other side of the room was an incredibly tall and imposing pokémon that Mathew recognized immediately. He was familiar with the empoleon's wide build, white lace-coated chest, imposingly-sized flippers, and horns extending from her beak that formed a trident shape, but to see it in reality, at this small size, gave a new meaning to the term 'emperor penguin'.

The empoleon looked at the other pokémon. "Is there anything else to be concerned about regarding his condition?" she asked.

"He should be all good now! He might need to take it easy for a day, though — the Oran Berries healed his wounds, but the only thing that makes those stress levels go down is time."

"I see. In that case, I will take this from here. Thank you." She nodded, as if to affirm that he was dismissed. Jovially, the other pokémon made for the door. Now it was just the two of them. "Mr. Walker."

Mathew blinked. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said. "I had intended to speak with you earlier, but unfortunately, I've been preoccupied for the past few days."

"It's…fine?" Mathew was getting the impression that this empoleon was rather important. Her tone was firm, concise, and clear, as if at any moment she could spring into a powerful speech. Something about her voice was also…strikingly familiar, for some reason.

The empoleon nodded. "In any case, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is—"

Just then, the door to the room burst open. "M-Mathew! You're alright…!" There stood a relieved Demurke, holding the door aside with her wing. Past her, Mathew could make out Jermy and Joey, trying to peer in themselves. "When y-you fell over like that, it was kind of…oh." She took notice of the empoleon.

"Congratulations," ORB said. "You found the big penguin whose conversation we're interrupting."

The tall empoleon looked over Demurke and down to the robot wheeling by Jermy's side. "Are you not only further interrupting the conversation by making such quips?" she entertained.

"I wouldn't know. Jermy didn't program me to be polite."

"Maybe next version…" the pikachu mumbled as the three of them filtered in. Joey was wordless as he filed himself into a corner.

"Um, anyways…s-sorry, Mrs. Prest. I was just worried and—"

"Please, there is nothing to apologize for," she reassured Demurke. "Let's just return to the matter at hand. My name is—"

"Prest?" While the two of them had been chattering, the cubone had been left to gawk. "Emily Prest?"

Emily was taken aback, but quickly found her composure. "Right. I forgot that you kept your memories when you came here. I suppose that recognition must leave you with some questions."

"Yes it does!" Mathew exclaimed. The idea that Emily motherfucking Prest was and had been here, of all places, was so ridiculously absurd, he could hardly comprehend it. "What—how the—why?!"

Emily sighed. "Perhaps I should've thought through this method of greeting more thoroughly…"

Joey slowly emerged from the corner. "Would any of y'all be so kind as to explain what the big deal is here?"

Jermy opened his mouth to speak, but Emily beat him to the words. "Allow me," she said. "In case you aren't aware, I am the leader here at OCEAN. Your friend here is likely shocked because he remembers me from my last occupation. Previously, I was the fifty-first President of the United States."

Joey stared blankly. "...Hah?"

Jermy nodded. "Yeah, it's been a couple years and it's still weird to think about."

"You…might be too young to know she was president," Mathew remarked to Joey, trying to contain himself. "I just… Is this where you've been this whole time? Why did you—"

"All in due time," Emily cut him off. "The journey that led me here is a rather long and complex story — not one for unsolidified recruits. Once you are fully initiated, I can share the full explanation. For now, all you must know is that, though the setting has changed, my goal is the same."

Mathew leaned back onto the bed. He wasn't going to pressure her — Emily Prest was not somebody you pushed around — but not knowing everything she's been up to for the past thirteen years was going to nag at him. "Damn… I can't believe that, first off, I am actually talking to you right now, and, second off, that I am talking to you for the first time like, two decades after I voted for you."

Much to Mathew's surprise, Emily actually snickered at that. "And that you are speaking to me while I am a massive, hulking penguin?"

"I mean, yeah, but that I'm kind of used to..." He gestured towards the others.

"I don't blame you," ORB said. "I'd be weirded out if I had to deal with talking animals every day, too. Oh, wait."

"Uh, can I cut in for a second?" Joey asked, then turned to Emily. "You said before that your goal is the same, but since I ain't got any memories, I know as much about that goal of yours as a bat knows about how to see."

"That is true." Emily began to ponder. "The reason I cannot share the full truth to you is because, if you did not become recruits and shared it with outsiders, the public would gain a…misconstrued idea of OCEAN's vision. But is there a way I could explain this palatably…?"

"Well, you could, um…" Demurke had an idea come to the tip of her beak, but when Emily looked to her, it died off.

Fortunately, Emily seemed to find an idea from that alone. "Right. You two are employed under the business Mr. Persian and that girl created. That was…"

There was a moment of silence between them all that Jermy was forced to dispel. "The Pick-it Up Club."

"Right! The Pick-it Up Club. That means you two have seen the waste accumulating in the mystery dungeons," she said. "That is only one example of many problems that Solceus seems to be facing in recent years — problems that I find quite familiar."

Mathew was starting to see where this was going. "Waste buildup, globalized pollution, distorted weather patterns, a general loss of control…"

"On a smaller scale," she emphasized. "You see, Solceus is not quite like Earth. Though I have done all I could, the state of affairs on our hurting planet was near-impossible to reverse. We were too late to take action and prevent such catastrophes. However, here…there is still time. That is the ultimate goal I and the rest of this organization hope to achieve: to prevent the failings of humans' past from repeating now."

That was what this was all about? The cubone figured that explained a couple things. Still didn't answer why they have an army division, but Emily's reasoning sounded noble enough. And that did clear up… "So, the 'better life' I got promised all the way back… You're saying that's one where the apocalypse doesn't happen?"

"Correct," Emily said. "Also one where you get to spend your time as a powerful reptile."

"Hm, true." That reminded Mathew of something. "Oh, yeah, speaking of that 'better life', how did we do at the game?" he asked Jermy.

"Oh, well…" Jermy rubbed the back of his head. "I kinda missed some stuff…because I…dozed off?"

He blinked. "You're kidding."

"Don't worry about it," ORB told him. "You already know I cover for this slackjob."

The pikachu shrugged. "Maybe next time don't hand your 'slackjob' the incredibly important judge role so you can go play announcer." Mathew was surprised to not see Emily bothered by Jermy's snark.

ORB continued. "Obviously, Jermy was in your corner for the duration of the event…while he was conscious, anyway. Bello and Lucio liked your charisma, but it's kind of hard to judge a weapon that didn't get finished because one of the makers went entirely off the rails."

Oh. Right. If he was unconscious for the entire rest of the game, then there was nobody to weld and imbue the remaining parts of the weapon together. "Damn, I kind of left you high and dry, didn't I…" he remarked to Joey.

"Y-yeah. About as high and dry as a kite in a sunny sky." Joey's eyes were fixed to his maw, aimed towards the floor.

"That was my bad, honestly," the cubone admitted, straightening up on the bed. "Sorry for getting so pissy."

It took Joey a moment to reply. "It ain't all your fault. My head was in a bit of a different place. I reckon if I was more into it, you'd…"

Mathew tilted his head slightly. Why did Joey suddenly seem so nervous? "Well, I'm not gonna hold a grudge about it. I have much better grudges to keep!" he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Joey did not laugh with him.

Emily nodded at the exchange. "If I may ask, what sort of different place was your mind at, Mr. Johdaile?"

"Uh…" Joey didn't seem sure whether it was a good idea to answer that or not, peering between her and Mathew.

"It's o-okay, Joey! Mrs. Prest doesn't…bite," Demurke encouraged.

That seemed to be the push he needed. "Well, I reckon a lot of it comes from the fact that I can't recall any of my past life, and Mathew can."

"As I suspected," Emiy remarked. "The reason I wanted to speak with you in the first place was to inform you that I intended to look into better methods to present yourselves with than this haphazard game of David's, but it's also now become clear to me that I must impart some advice. If you two would like the best possible positions in this organization, the best thing you could do for yourselves is to resolve the disagreements surrounding this circumstance."

"I guess that makes sense…" Still, Mathew wasn't sure how on Earth to go about that. How could he tell Joey what he needs to know if his brain was still a minefield of triggers?

An epiphany seemed to strike Joey. "Oh! I reckon I might have a chance to ask now!" he said. "There were a bunch of humans with their memories wiped back in that recruitment game. Are y'all the ones bringing folks like me over here? And does that mean you're the reason I don't have any memories?"

"Somewhat, though not in the way you might be thinking," Emily explained. "You see, OCEAN is in cooperation with a pair of allies who are capable of bringing potential members from Earth to Solceus in a discreet fashion. However, due to limitations in their natural ability, those who are brought between the worlds are unable to carry specific memories — only vague understandings of concepts."

"Oh, the Theory of Consciousness Memory Imprinting!" Mathew exclaimed. "Yeah, I remember that now."

Jermy gave him an incredulous look. "Wait, you know that theory?"

"Yeah. It went something like…basically, when you jump between worlds, your body isn't transforming to fit the new location. The new body is actually created from scratch, and your consciousness is put into it. Since the new body has a whole new brain, it doesn't have all of the previous body's memories — only what the consciousness can carry over. Using some specific parts and methods, the portal you guys had me build got around that, so all of my memories did, but I guess that wouldn't be the case for Joey." He shrugged. "That's the short version, anyway."

"That's the short version?" Joey said, wide-eyed. "It's already making my head spin…"

"Admittedly, it baffles me as well," Emily said. "Making sense of these new lines of logic is more to David's expertise. Still, what matters is that this is a limitation we must work around. With time of the essence, we cannot afford to have members of the organization visit these recruits on Earth to build a proper portal. Additionally, maintaining an active portal between Earth and Solceus is quite the expense, combined with the network we have just for this world. Until some milestones are accomplished, we simply don't have the time or resources to ensure—"

Mathew slammed his palm into his mask. "Oh my God! Why didn't I think of this before?! We can just use the Wormhole Wristlet!"

The cubone was given curious stares from everyone else in the room. "The what?" Jermy asked.

"It's this project I was working on at the same time as the portal! I was gonna show it to you later when I actually got it working. It's supposed to let you…well, you type into this keyboard to put your coordinates in and…" Dammit, words were failing him. The cubone sighed. "This would be easier to explain if I had it on me right now."

"Well, you have caught my interest, Mr. Walker," Emily remarked. "Even a half-finished product should help significantly to convince the remaining division heads that you can be an asset to our science team."

Preemptively, Mathew began to slide out of the bed. "Maybe if I hurry—"

The empoleon put a flipper in his way. "I believe you should spend the duration of the morning resting up. It sounds as though you both have earned the extra time."

He settled back in. Looks like he and Joey both had gotten a free pass out of work for the day. That was nice.

Emily faced Jermy. "Would you be so kind as to obtain Mathew's machine for him?" she asked.

"Aww, what?" Jermy whined. "Ugh…okay. Where did you put the thing in your room?"

Meowth stared at the television, quite relaxed after having taken his daily dosage of Encourage Seeds. Since he had invited the humans to his home, the amount of time he had with the house all to himself had been rather limited. Now though, he had a few hours to spare before making for the Club on his own, so he could just sit back and—

Bang bang bang!

And there went that peace and quiet. Seriously, two visitors before 7:00 AM? This was starting to get absurd. Regardless, Meowth sprung to his feet, made for the door and… "Minichino?"

Of all the people he anticipated coming to him before work, the minccino was absolutely on the bottom of his list. With her proactivity and role in the Club, he figured she would already be at the resort by now. Nevertheless, here she was right on his doorstep, the early-morning darkness doing wonders to hide the aging on her scarf and hat. "Meowth! Hey!" she exclaimed with an amicableness she rarely ever showed to him. "You have a nice early breakfast and everything?"

Meowth was already disinterested in answering that question, knowing fully well she was just checking to see if he was ready to work. "If you're looking for Mathew, Joey, and Jermy, they left already," he said.

"Well, yeah, I knew that," she remarked. "Actually, I was coming over here to talk to you. Alone, maybe?"

…There was no way Minichino was serious, Meowth figured. She hated his guts — before the humans had gotten into the picture, she had all but avoided him outside of a work environment. In what world would she willingly come over to his house to talk to him? Already, Meowth was getting flashbacks of when Mr. Persian approached him, and just the same, he was smelling a rat — or a pikachu, or something.

That meant he needed to do the same thing he had done then: play along. "Come on in," he said, stepping aside. "The living room is wide open."

So he led Minichino to a chair and himself to the couch. Unfortunately, his attempts at hospitality did little to change her demeanor. "...Geez, dude. I didn't wanna say it in front of the new guys, but your living room reeks of—"

"I know. Don't ask."

The swift shutdown caught her off-guard. "Ooookay then…" Moving on, she raised up her bycocket hat and pulled from it a folded-up note.

Meowth squinted at her. "What's that?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's a little something to make sure I keep the whole story straight." After that incredibly vague answer, she unfolded it and sighed. "Okay, so here's the deal. You and I have had a few arguments in the past…"

"A lot of arguments in the past."

"Yeah, exactly! Buuuuuut you're still the best person for this favor I've got too ask you. Admittedly, kind of a huge favor." She peeked at her page. "How good are you at being stealthy?"

The question perplexed him enough to warrant the rise of a brow. "Minichino, what are you getting at?"

Before she gave a response, Minichino made a few quick glances around the room. "Bet you could sneak into Mr. Persian's office, and grab a few files for…me?"

Bewildered, Meowth leaned forward in his seat. Minichino was a wildcard, but this kind of proposal? From her? Completely unheard of. "You're kidding."

She shook her head. "Dude, if I was kidding, I wouldn't have come over!"

Trying to digest all this, Meowth reclined back into his couch. "Why?"

Minichino studied her note. "Okay…" she muttered before looking back up. "Mr. Persian's office has some really important stuff in it, the few times I've got a look in there myself. Something I know he's got up there, in a cabinet opposite of this nest-looking thing are some profiles he and his bosses keep on the Pick-it Up Club employees. For reasons I don't think I can totally explain, I really need to know some of the things that are in those files."

"And you, the co-owner of the Club, can't access these files, because…?"

Minichino scoffed. "Please! Mr. Persian's bosses know me too well. No way they'd let me snoop around in that stuff without raising an alarm! There's not that much of a reason to do the same for you — they already know you're a snooper."

Which is to say that I'm enlisting you for this job because you already have a terrible reputation you wrecked all on your own, Minichino was really saying here. Meowth didn't know how to feel about that.

"Besides, they're not gonna do anything when you're the kid of one of their workers — if you get caught, anyway. I bet you won't even get seen! They don't keep his office well-guarded." She shrugged, leaning back. "Still, if you're chicken, you don't have to do it. It's up to you."

The impact of what Minichino was saying began to sink in to Meowth. This wasn't some simple prank she was asking of him — this was a conspiracy she was asking him to participate in! The cat was bewildered. How had she even come to the conclusion that he could pull off a stealth mission? The only time he had really done anything like that was when he snuck up on Jermy, Demurke, Mathew, and Joey. And the only person who was with him when he did that was…hm.

Minichino seemed to be distracted, staring out through the window towards Kalmwa'er as she waited for an answer. While she wasn't paying attention, Meowth could get a look at the note in her paw. He couldn't make out any of the words, but he could clearly see the handwriting.

Cursive…flowery…elegant… Meowth would recognize that handwriting anywhere, having seen several papers written with it inside of their Higher Ed dorm. Politoed had written that note.

The only description Meowth could give for how he was feeling right now was 'incredible validation'. He had suspected his father of trying to set something up here, and not only was he right, but he had uncovered that every single member of the Pick-it Up Club was a part of some kind of larger plot (if Politoed was involved, no doubt Breloom was as well). Though he had made some blunders, it seemed that his actions were finally getting him towards some answers.

That meant all he had to do was make the same decision that had gotten him here in the first place: play along.

"You know what? There's some things I'm interested in learning, too. I don't see why I can't try to help your little conspiracy," he answered. "Although, I have to say, I'm surprised to see this side of you. I thought you were an environmentalist."

Minichino laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that, dude. It might not look like it, but this has everything to do with the environment."

And that was what led Meowth to the Resort, forty five minutes before the Club was to meet, carrying a camera he bought a few years ago to take photos of compromising documents in his father's office. He still wasn't sure how to feel about Minichino's reassurances that he would be fine if he was caught, but he was in too deep to back out of this now. He just hoped that she'd keep to her word and back him up if things completely went wrong.

The cat stalked his way into the lobby, trying to stay flush with the early-morning crowd. She had told him that the best route to Mr. Persian's office was a private elevator they keep locked up on the first floor; since Meowth couldn't break locks and Minichino apparently wasn't allowed to carry keys for the place, he'd just have to—

"...If this machine of Mathew's is hard to carry, then someone's sure gonna get an earful when I'm back!"

Jermy's voice. Meowth hugged one of the walls in the hallway, staying as far as he could from the pikachu and his robot as they walked out of the Fitness Room.

"Jermy, you and I both know that the only one who's gonna 'get an earful' is some stranger who won't get you in trouble for it," ORB commented. "Like… Species query failed: request timed out."

"Timed out?" Jermy seemed genuinely concerned by the error.

"Sorry. I was searching for some rando you could cry to, but there's too many pokémon here to process and identify."

The pikachu heaved. "Great, another thing to fix." The two of them made for the front doors.

Now safe, Meowth, just a bit curious, peered into the Fitness Room. A side door labeled 'Authorized personnel only' was left half-open. Just past it, he could see what looked like an elevator. Talk about a lucky break…

Meowth made his way into the elevator. in front of him were two buttons that didn't matter and exactly what he was looking for: the button for floor six. It took a solid twenty seconds for the cab to slide up to the top of the Resort.

The elevator opened into an average-looking hotel hallway — bland yellow walls, tinted white ceiling, a strangely ornate carpet lining the floor… Carefully, Meowth peered out of the elevator to make sure nobody else was in the hall, then made for an open door a few paces to his right. And just like that, he had reached his destination, devoid of any signs of life this early in the morning. He pulled the door shut behind him, and for the first time ever, took a gander at Mr. Persian's abode.

Meowth was not sure what to expect here, but at a quick glance, it seemed like a normal office. A dull blue carpet flooring led Meowth's gaze to the mahogany desk towards the center-back of the room, and behind that, a large window overlooking the city and ocean below. To the sides were a few beige filing cabinets. All normal office things, as far as he was concerned.

Although, Meowth couldn't help but notice how worn it all was. The carpet's color had faded in a couple spots, the paint on the cabinets was chipping away to reveal metallic silver underneath, and the desk had new layers of wood exposed in certain places. This room was definitely in need of some mild refurbishing.

Meowth started his search on Mr. Persian's desk. Papers were strewn all across the surface. A few pens lay loosely next to each other, outside of any kind of container. Meowth glanced at the papers on the desk. Nothing he was interested in…just normal documents and bills recording the management and expenditures of the hotels. Still, Meowth gave them a look over anyway.

Among these documents was a list of all the booked and empty rooms in the hotels. Skiploom VII of Vahle Village… Kricketune II of Rimek… Growtle I of Skrunco… What the heck? Meowth grew confused as a set of odd names were also strewn among the guests. Eduardo Shortsman… Randy Belle… Truman Beasley… These individuals had two names, no generation of lineage, and the listed hometowns were awkwardly separated from the names themselves. What kind of naming scheme was this?

…His eyes landed upon some names that indicated an answer. Mathew Walker; Joey Johdaile. At least, that was what was originally written on this document. Both of their names had been scribbled out, Joey's more than Mathew's. Overtop Mathew's name was "ArK", and Joey's "GRAcIe", both written with hasty, shoddy handwriting. Could Mr. Persian seriously not afford another sheet of paper?

Meowth shook his head. Regardless, the reason for the names was now clear: this is a human naming scheme. Kalmwa'er Resort was housing humans, and, based on these files, there were a lot more of them than just the three he knew. Figuring this was worth knowing, he took some photos of the documents.

Ready to crack even more of this scheme, the cat snuck over to the filing cabinet to his left. The handle on the bottom drawer was cold to the paw. He pulled open the drawer to start digging for…empty boxes for microwavable dinners and open food cans? Though weirded out, Meowth couldn't help but admire his father's tastes.

The cat pushed the cabinet shut. CLANG! Meowth recoiled a bit from the noise. He ran to the door and put his ear close to hear if anyone heard that.

One second of silence.

Two seconds.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps!

He braced for what would happen next.

They walked up to the door…and then right past it. False alarm.

Meowth heaved a sigh of relief and rushed back to the cabinet. That first drawer was a bit weird, but surely there would be something in the middle cabinet—

A horrible chill coarsed through Meowth's body. The drawer was full of…activated ice type stones! They seemed to have been used to transform the inside into a makeshift refrigerator, used to store…full boxes of microwavable dinners…a lot of them.

Meowth almost slammed the cabinet again, but he caught himself quick enough to shut it gently instead. Now this was just getting annoying. Meowth checked the top cabinet, and found even more unopened canned foods. His face drooped. This had to be some kind of prank. Ha! Look at you, getting all distracted by canned food! He imagined Minichino mocking him. He didn't know why in the world his father would have these, but that wasn't going to stop—

And then, turning his head, he saw it next to the cabinet: a discrete, nest-sized fabric bed tucked away in a corner. A couple things clicked in his head at once. His father was eating and sleeping in his office… Meowth was rather annoyed at the prospect. What work could he be doing that was pressuring him to pull all-nighters? He had to be doing this to himself. Meowth understood his father was passionate in his business, but this was taking it to an unhealthy extreme.

It took a bit longer than it should have for Meowth to snap out of his vitriolic thoughts. Now it was time to check the other cabinet. If there was even the slightest bit of food packaging in there, he was going to scream. Much to his delight, the handles on this cabinet were flush with the room's temperature. He yanked it open, and…bingo. A stack of folders with labeled names of both normal and human variety filled the interior of the cabinet. And, separated from the others with a divider, eight files, beginning with 'Breloom I of Kalmwa'er' and ending with 'Politoed I of Kalmwa'er'. Meowth had never been more glad to see those names. It was almost enough to disregard the small food scrap in the corner of the cabinet. Almost.

Meowth carefully removed the Pick-it-Up-Club's files from the filing cabinet and set them onto the floor. With the fall of a paw, then one knee, then the other, the cat sat, ready to uncover these long-awaited truths.

He pondered where he should start. Should he begin with his enigmatic human roommates? His now-mysterious co-workers? Himself? No. Not yet. He was all too eager to learn the reasons behind his father's actions, but a part of him feared that the answer found in his file might not be…quite what he thought. The emotional drain from getting an answer to his favor or not would be too much to handle. He needed to save it for last.

Perhaps the best place to start would be his overseers, Jermy and Demurke. They could provide some important context for the other documents, and, well, Demurke had been a mysterious presence in his life for some time now. A hint of guilt swept over Meowth when he considered how intrusive looking into her information was, but he refused to let that stop him after years of being in the dark. He opened Demurke's file.

The following file is a stub, the lone page inside read. The full documentation for this individual can be found in Database 430.

Oh. Well that was disappointing. Looks like he wasn't going to get a reason behind all of those visits she paid him over the years. Sadly, Jermy's was quite the same, although his was contained inside Database 724, whatever that meant. The only other thing here was their times of joining the Club — nothing that mattered to him. He shrugged to himself. Mathew and Joey first it is…

Meowth was rather taken aback by what he was greeted with when he pried open the cubone's profile. Inside was an essay of a typed description seeming to detail everything that had happened to him since he had arrived in Kalmwa'er. Meowth would've been all but happy to comb over this word-for-word, if only to better understand how to resolve the tension between them, but he was pressed for time. He just took photos of each page, catching cursory glances to each as he did so.

There are two things that did draw his eye. Firstly, the description made several references to a "science division" and a "military division". The wording baffled him — what did Kalmwa'er Resort have to do with science or the military? Secondly, there was a short-form list of information at the back of the file, where right beneath Mathew's name was the line "Reference: B.L." Immediately, he turned to Joey's file and found a very similar sort of essay and list. The line beneath Joey's name in his profile was "Reference: B.L. affiliate". B.L.… He would have to tell Joey about this later. With no reference to their actual histories here, it was the best he could share with him.

Next on the chopping block, Politoed's file. The document was much smaller than either of the previous two, only lasting a single page with a simple blurb. Not surprising — what was there to say about Politoed? He's so perfect he's unremarkable. Meowth bet all that would be in his file was some praise for his hard work and—

Risk Level: One - Observe.

…What? First off: this company was documenting risk levels? Second off: Politoed had a risk level higher than zero?! Why? A confused study of his profile gave some ideas. Apparently, whoever wrote this felt that there was a noticeable lack of background information on his past leading up to his position. Additionally, they found his proactiveness in joining the Club so shortly after its founding unusual. When he checked Breloom's, it gave a very similar story.

As Meowth took photos of both profiles, he felt more and more concerned about what he was uncovering. Politoed and Breloom were just some people who moved in from out-of-town to study in the Kalmwa'er School of Higher Education — what 'background' could they possibly have? What kind of person would be this interested in obsessively cataloging their lives? And the risk level…risk of what?

Meowth juggled cursory peers at the door with a movement to the…heavy file of Minichino's. Seriously, this thing was packed with detailed information about Minichino's life. Sections describing her environmentalist philosophies, a vague description of her own family…heck, even miniscule things like a tendency to drink coffee (since when?) and a hobby of paying visits to the local Church of the Courts (she does that?). And some of these went back years! He saw some of the documents were dated anywhere from three weeks ago to the early 2050s, when Minichino should've been a young child. Most notable was her risk level: Three — Moderate. There was a section on one of the pages where "prevent her from information collection at all costs" was crossed out with pen, and a note had been written next to it saying "under control". What the heck had that girl done to them, and what had they done back?!

Now, all that was left was his own document. He was so eager before, but now… Just to stall for time and to try alleviating his rising heart rate, Meowth pushed one of the beanbag chairs to block the door. It didn't help. He knew he was stumbling on a conspiracy of sorts, but he hadn't anticipated anything like this. These documents spoke of militaries and risk levels and background checks and…very not-hotel-like business.

Was he…wrong about the reason behind Mr. Persian's departure from his life? No, no. He had to…

He threw his file open.

Mutual Agreement of Familial Uninvolvement

Meowth's grip on the file tightened. His heart raced as he skimmed through the document with baited breath. The contract here at the front of his file seemed to illustrate a deal — "OCEAN", whatever that was, agreed to not make any movements to involve the signer's family with the company's business on the condition that the signer, themselves, would not allow their family to get involved with the affairs of their work for the company. It was a horrific exchange.

Signed: Persian I of Kalmwa'er

Proof of Witness: Emily Prest

…And his father had agreed to sign it for the sake of his resort.

Meowth took the last photos of the documents, staring at them with eyes wider than the its lens. This was game-changing. Mr. Persian didn't just set him aside for selfish reasons — he signed documents to make it happen. All part of keeping him away from whatever this all was. What did his father even want, interacting with all these humans? Answers for his motivations were so beyond him that the cat saw little point in trying to understand them. Right now, he needed to get out of here before he was spotted.

He carefully placed the folders back in the order he found them in and moved the beanbag chair to where it belonged. Meowth opened the door slowly, trying desperately to keep it from creaking. Peer to the right…peer to the left…still, nobody. Meowth could not feel more fortunate right now. Evidently, this floor of the resort was just not as well-guarded as he thought it would be.

Unfortunately, once he was back on the ground floor, his luck ran out. Looking past the window of the Fitness Room, he saw Jermy and ORB making their way straight towards him! Meowth was forced to improvise. He flung himself onto one of the bipedal treadmills and threw it on, not caring that it was clearly sized for a pokémon much larger than him. He set the camera to the side and started running, hoping his previous nerves could be mistaken for exhaustion.

"...And then I'm gonna — oh, Meowth!" All at once, Jermy sounded surprised at his presence, bemused by the sight of his layabout self running on a treadmill, and very much like he wished he wasn't in this room. "What are you doing, running around in here like a lab rat?"

"Exercising," he answered. "I wanted to get a jog in before work."

The pikachu cocked his head and his arms, raised over his head carrying some kind of alien-looking machine, faltered. "Huh. Never thought you were the kind of guy to get a workout!"

Usually you just lay around all day and then foil our plans like the jerk you are, Meowth figured he was thinking right now.

"Is it wrong for me to want to try something different?"

"You can try anything you want," ORB said, rolling towards the end of the room, "if you can explain why this door is hanging open."

"I dunno," he deflected. "It was unlocked when I got here." That technically wasn't a lie.

ORB looked at the door frame, then turned to Jermy. "I wonder whose fault that is?"

"Hey, I locked the door just like I was supposed to!" Jermy exclaimed. "I pushed the door open, swung it back behind us, and…walked…right out of the Fitness Room. Whoopsie daisies."

"Maybe if you weren't so busy whining over the size of a glorified wrist watch, you would have remembered," ORB snided.

Jermy heaved. "Look. It's just a door. No one'll know if I just forgot to lock a door for ten minutes, right?"

"I hope so. Remember when we first went up to Mr. Persian's office and I said 'Wow, this floor is so comically underprotected, I could sneak in myself'? It would be very embarrassing if somebody found their way up there."

Meowth hoped the intensity of his sprint would hide his grimace. That robot was absolutely on to him. That was bad. Still, Minichino remarked that it was unlikely he would be under any more fire than he already was. Besides, with his medical license on the line, what did he even have to lose at this point? ORB could know exactly what he did, for all he cared.

"Aaaanyways," Jermy cut in, "we've gotta get going! I dunno if I'll be working with the Club today, so if I don't see you, good…luck, Meowth!" With that, the two of them shut the door to the central staircase. Past the whir of the treadmill, Meowth could hear the click of the lock.

After giving the pair a couple seconds to truly leave, the cat slowed it to a stop. He clutched his camera tightly as he made his way back towards the lobby, where Minichino would be waiting.

Mission accomplished…but what would it mean for him now?

"Aaaaand… Go!"

Mathew smacked his right finger onto the 'enter' key of the bulky, wrist watch-shaped object wrapped loosely around his left hand. From the top of the machine came a black bolt that traveled several feet into the open air of the Waregle and then dissolved. Trailing it was a black-colored opening, following its path like an invisible zipper opening up in the front and another zipper closing up in the back. The basic rift, a product of months of experimentation, only existed for a mere two seconds.

Mathew was met with approval by the crowd - his coworkers, Emily, and David as well. After finding out about his project, David had eagerly asked him to return to the now-empty Waregle to demonstrate it. "Very impressive!" he remarked, taking a handful from a bag of popcorn he was holding. "It resembles several of our drafts for portable portal devices. To get this far without any help is an achievement!"

Mathew nodded. "Yeah. As I was trying to explain before, if we can't rewire SEAS - OCEAN's portal network…" This whole 'internal name and external name' thing was going to continue to confuse him. "Then I could just finish the Wormhole Wristlet so that it can actually open portals. We take Joey back to Earth, get him his memories back, and bam, no more conflict." And he didn't even have to do anything particularly difficult! Other than figure out how the hell he was going to make a portal work without a frame, obviously.

Joey stared at the Wristlet in awe. "So that tiny little thing can really take me over yonder to Earth…? Wow." He seemed relieved.

Emily didn't immediately disapprove of Mathew's proposition, although she looked rather contemplative for one reason or another. "It's interesting. I had sworn we had agreed to…" David's beak wasn't as flexible as human lips, but even Mathew could see him mouth 'we did' to her. That seemed to stop the empoleon from clarifying. "Still, if this is what must be done to resolve your quarrel, then so be it. You should see to finishing that project as soon as reasonably possible."

"M-maybe we could help you with it over…the weekend?" Demurke proposed.

"Yes, whatever is best." Suddenly, Emily turned for the exit to the Waregle. "Unfortunately, I have run out of time. There are places I must be. Mathew, Joey… I wish you the best of luck."

David heaved as Emily left. "Alright, I have good news and bad news!" he said, getting right down to business. "Just a warning: you might not like it."

Mathew was suddenly worried. Had David already seen a flaw in his plan, and had simply waited until Emily was out of earshot to explain? "Why's that?"

"Well, the good news is that I think I might have an idea of how to finish up your project and save your reputation. The bad news is that I don't think we'll be able to do it within the time limit we have…"

"Let me guess," Jermy said. "Psychic type stones?"

"Bingo! Your machine already seems to make w-axis cuts on its own, but what's missing is a frame to hold it open. However, if it were imbued with a psychic type stone, one could use psychokinesis to pull it apart without any need for a frame!"

Joey gawked. "Yer saying it's that easy?!"

David shook his head. "It would be easy. But psychic type stones seem to be exceedingly rare. It could take weeks to have the mining company SEAS works with find one - and we only have two of those and one extra day to spare."

Mathew grimaced. The cubone had thought that he had finally found an easy solution, but if they didn't get that psychic stone in time… "Shit."

If that failed, what was he going to do…?