Chapter Eighteen: The Federal Police

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe did not look away. "Again. Go through it again."

Their partner, Special Agent Krin, sighed before taking a large gulp of coffee.

The Xatu and the Cacturne stared at each other, eyes meeting across the stained sheen of their slick suits were wrinkled and dusty, their ties loose, the bags under their eyes had bags of their had come to accept the stench of burnt grease, damp rust and perishing plastic. It didn't matter. Stuck either side of an old booth, by an old bar, in an old forgotten part of town, they measured their fears.

It was a rundown, unclean and unpopular diner - a ramshackle hole in the wall, squirrelled away in the depths of Cerulean's downtown. They were the only patrons, and the only staff was a Gloom, so drunk they had fallen asleep on the counter. The light's flickered, the grill sizzled, and the whole place oozed an unpleasant haze. It was perfect.

"Go through it again," repeated Lethe.

Krin sighed, giving the as soft a shake of her head as she could. Taking another gulp from her mug, she began reading from her notepad, again. "About six months ago Sapphire comes to Cerulean City to take a job working at CCPR as Hank Harrison's personal assistant. Then, sometime in the last six weeks, she is accosted by infamous journalist Drex Dreagle, who gives her a stack of documents. The documents implicate Hank in some kind of financial conspiracy. Attempting to investigate said-conspiracy, Sapphire, and possibly Drex, follow Hank to the DTD where she or they are confronted by a Ditto. One of them kills the Ditto, making sure to destroy its XP Unit, and they flee. Undeterred, Sapphire stakes out West Port Savings and Loan to try and uncover more information on the conspiracy. She finds something. Meets with Dreagle at the abandoned warehouse where he lives. The warehouse is attacked by Military Special Operations, and possibly a dragon, but either way burns down. Implying that whatever Sapphire discovered at the bank mattered so much to Spec Ops that they would come for her. Implying further that Spec Ops are involved with Hank's financial conspiracy - which seems to be him paying someone off to murder opponents. Records of these deaths have quite obviously been edited, but even so they suggest Spec Ops involvement. Implying Hank is hiring them as his personal assassins."

Lethe continued to hold their gaze; unable to sign or sigh or speak, they felt overwhelmed.

Krin finished her coffee and looked over at the bar. The Gloom was snoring. "They're asleep. How am I-"

"We're all asleep!" snapped Lethe, losing grip on their telepathy.. "It seems we're all asleep!"

Krin clutched her head and winced. The Gloom gave a snort and grimaced. "Would you keep your voice down?!" Krin growled. "You'll give me a headache, and wake that idiot up."

Lethe took a deep breath and nodded. "I apologise." Leaning back into the perforated cushion of the booth, Lethe soaked in their grimey surroundings and tried to calm down.

A silence hung between them, pregnant and perfidious - a quiet, more than quiet, predator that knew they could not come to terms. Neither moved, 'til Krin, relenting to distraction, looked down at her cup, and lamenting its emptiness, faced the snoring Gloom. She sighed. "I'll do it myself, I guess."

Lethe felt an echo ricochet across their mind: We're all asleep… We're all asleep… We're all asleep… The fear was self consuming, digesting into paranoia. Krin's movement did not stop the process, but it pulled their gaze away. Cocking an eyebrow, Lethe spoke: "Do what?"

"Coffee," snapped Krin. She was already behind the counter, refilling her glass. The Gloom snored.

"Ah." Special Agent Lincoln Lethe returned to the silence and the echo. The Xatu felt a cage closing in. After all the days spent digging… trying to find what was buried… rebuilding the bones of what they had found… the skeleton of this sin had shown itself to be so profoundly rotten they could not restrain or reveal it.

They had uncovered a plague. A poison. A curse. .

As Special Agent Krin sipped from her fresh cup of coffee, she sighed, locking eyes with her half dazed partner. Lethe stared back, their pain and bewilderment both washing away and infecting their friend. Kring smiled, then she laughed, then she growled, then she cried out and smashed her cup against the counter.

The Gloom snorted in surprise, but did not wake.

"What's wrong?" Lethe asked.

Krin took several deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. "Well I've spilt my coffee, for one thing." Grabbing a fresh cup and filling it, Special Agent Krin began to ramble. "Where does it end? Because we also know about the boy in denim, who fits the description of a worker from the Gnarl Estate, and The Johto Order called on, what is apparently now, the scorched remains of the Gnarl Estate, called in by an Officer of the MOF, who as far as we have learned, was supposed to be managing the acquisition of the Gnarl Estate."

Belying themselves, Special Agent Lincoln Lethe tried to de-escalate. "That's a different case-"

"Is it?"

Lethe wanted to respond, but all that came was silence and echoes.

Krin gulped her coffee. "Seems like the same case to me." She took another gulp. "The case of: this is not our case and if we take this to Packard they will have us fired."

The Xatu stood, slowly moving towards their partner. The truth that must break the fear had come, the silence and the echoes shattered - it was time to decide what to do. "We won't take this to Packard."

Krin swallowed another mouthful of coffee. "Then what?" Her spines bristling, Special Agent Krin leant over the bar, a pair of yellow eyes pleading. "Something deeply fucked up has happened here. And we can't-"

"We won't." replied Lethe, coming closer. "Something deeply fucked up indeed, has happened. Even if we are only half correct, it has."

"So we tell someone."

"We do."

"Who?"

The Xatu turned their gaze to the sleeping Gloom. A pulse of psychic energy surged forward and knocked the unconscious individual to the floor.

Krin turned in shock. "They were already asleep!"

Lethe eyed the now doubly unconscious Gloom. "Could you be sure?"

Krin hesitated. "I-"

"Well now we can."

"Still-"

"MOSO."

The words came as heavy cerebral hammers, they were the calligraphy of migraines.

Krin winced. "What?"

"If Special Operations-" Lethe took a breath. "If The Ghosts are involved, then we tell MOSO. We can only tell MOSO."

The silence and echoes threatened to return, but Special Agent Krin stopped them with a laugh. She cackled facetiously, pulled back, cackled a second time, turned, began to rummage through the diner's cabinets, cackled again, pulled out a bottle of rum, and slammed it, cackling a fourth time, onto the counter. Summoning her own kind of silence, and instilling her own chosen echoes, she locked eyes with Lethe and let her grin turn to grimace. "You're insane."

"They will listen-"

Krin hushed her partner with a gesture. Opening the bottle, she tittered, threatening to cackle a fifth time. Instead, she took a deep drink from the dark, pungent spirit. "They will-" She took another drink. "You know what they will? They will put a story in the paper saying we died in a tragic accident." A third drink. "A tragic getting dragged into a dark room and killed by the state kind of accident."

LIncoln Lethe did all they could to remain composed. "There is no one who hates The Ghosts as much as the Ministry of Social Order."

Krin drank. "There is-" She offered Lethe the bottle, they refused. "There is no one who hates The Federal Police as much as the Ministry of Social Order."

"There is no government body we can trust to investigate this…" Lethe changed their mind and took a drink. "Except the Ministry of Social Order."

Krin gave an exasperated sigh. "You have always wished you worked for them instead of-"

"That is not true. And it is neither here nor there."

"It is both here and there!" Krin shouted, bringing a heavy, barbed fist down onto the counter. "You have always hoped you'd work for them one day. And you have always hoped they were something they are not."

Lethe hesitated, searching for the right words. "They-"

"Do you know what they do in Hoenn?" interrupted Krin, walking out from behind the counter. "How many people they've made disappear?"

Lethe turned away and moved back to their table. "Less people than The Ghosts-"

"It's not a competition!"

Lethe snapped. The floor tiles fractured, the table fell, the cushions burst, the Gloom gave an unconscious groan. "Maybe it is. Maybe all we can do is hope the lesser evil wins."

Krin looked from side to side, surveying the mess their partner had created. Stepping up to the shredded seat and collapsed table, the Cacturne cocked an eyebrow and judged. It was less than a moment before the scraps of psychic tantrum began weaving themselves back together.

Special Agent Krin gave Special Agent Lincoln Lethe a small nod of appreciation, and sat as the nod was reciprocated. After settling in, Krin spoke matter of factly: "They'll kill us."

Lethe held their partner's gaze, but had nothing to say.

Krin continued. "They'll take what we have, thank us for the work, and then they'll kill us. They will probably follow up on all this; they will probably investigate; they might even stop The Ghosts from doing whatever they are planning to do. But they won't help Sapphire, they won't arrest Hank, and before they don't do either of those things, they will kill us. Before they do anything, they will kill us."

The calligraphy of migraines swung back;; now it was the Xatuwho felt words beyond sound hammering down.

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe hung their head. "What choice do we have?"

Krin gripped the table. "We can leave it be."

A pure and miserable instinct stained Lethe's mind.

"I can't." Their words hung in the ether - an invincible and inconsequential power holding them. "I can't leave it be."

Krin sighed. "Why?"

"Because people leaving it be is what led us here."

"That's not what led us here."

We're all asleep. "I have to tell them."

"You don't."

We're all asleep. "I do."

"Lethe!"

We're all asleep.

Another floor tile shattered.

"I'm sorry, Krin." Special Agent Lincoln Lethe had made up their mind - they could not recall when it had happened, but it had, and now there was no going back.

Krin rubbed their brow. "Then anonymously. We send them the evidence we have and the theory. We mail it and we move on with our lives."

Lethe shook their head. "We can't do that."

"Why?" demanded Krin.

"Because we are agents of the Federal Police. And that means something,"

Krin scoffed. "Does it?"

"It has to."

"Why?!" Special Agent Krin slammed their fists against the table, breaking it a second time. Standing up they began to pace. "If the system is so sacrosanct then we go to Packard. Protocol states we should go to Packard. Why break one rule and not the other?"

"It's not standard protocol, no. But we are well within our rights to report this to the Ministry of Social Order. We wouldn't be breaking any rules." Lethe could hardly bear to look at Krin. "Besides… this isn't about rules."

Krin swung around and laughed. "Then what is this about?"

Lethe little more than whimpered. "Faith."

"Faith?"

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe pulled themself up and moved towards their partner. Staring into their best friend's eyes, they gave their final, frank and futile justification. "The system is sacrosanct. Not because of its rules, but because we choose to believe it deserves to exist. Following its rules is how we show that, not the other way around." Lethe took a deep breath and fixed their posture. "We are agents of the Federal Police, we were sent to investigate the murder of a government asset, we have discovered government corruption. We did our job. And now our job is to report what we have found. Corruption of both military and private sector organisations is best reported to the Ministry of Social Order. So, that is what we do. Because it is our job. Because I refuse to act as those I am reporting. Because the system is sacrosanct. Because… If everyone behaved as you fear we all behave, then the system collapses. But if everyone behaved as I know you and me can, then… then it works." Lethe gave a small nod and turned towards the door. They took a moment, basking in the energy of their own righteousness, holding onto it, desperate not to doubt. "We are agents of the Federal Police. And that has to mean something. If it doesn't… then what the fuck are we even doing here?"

The Xatu looked over their shoulder, hoping to see Krin's eyes filled with inspiration, fervour and belief, but they didn't. Krin's eyes were sad, destitute, already running away. Lethe's partner slowly shook her head, her shoulders slumped.

Catching the silence before it could fully set in, Krin spoke. "I'm just trying to survive, Lincoln."

"You agreed we have to tell someone."

"I do. But I'll go to the press before I go to MOSO."

Lethe gave a sombre nod. "Then I'll go alone."

"They'll still come after-"

"Not if you report me to Packard before I reach MOSO. Say I've gone rogue. They'll be assured you had no idea."

Tears welled in Krin's eyes. "They'll kill you."

Lethe turned back to face the exit. "If they do… one day… you will make it known. And we will all be better for it."

Special Agent Krin rushed to her partner, placing a firm, thorned hand on their shoulder. "I still-" The Cacturn pulled against the Xatu. "Look at me! Lincoln Lethe, you will look at me!" With more than a little force from Krin, Lethe turned to face her. "I still, even with all your posturing and speeches, I don't understand why you are doing this."

Lethe took a small breath in and smiled with all the sadness a smile can allow. "Because it's my job. And I chose it. No one forced me to join the Federal Police. I chose. I chose to do the job. So I'm going to do it, and I'm going to do all of it. Even if it kills me.

"Because there's a girl caught in danger that will likely kill her. Because there's a man using money to murder. Because a member of the press had their residence burnt to the ground and then disappeared. Because a dragon was sighted. Because a Ditto was killed and its XP unit destroyed. Because a Johto Order was called on the richest agricultural estate in the province by an agent of the Ministry of Finance. Because an arm of the military appears to be complicit in all of it. Because it is my job to detect these things, report these things, to desperately, furiously, often uselessly demand justice. Because-"

"Shut up."

Lethe flinched. Krin stepped around them, staring down into their suddenly shameful eyes.

"Just shut up."

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe shut up.

"You're a good detective Lincoln Lethe. A good friend. A good Pokemon. But you can't fix this world, because it isn't broken. It was built this way on purpose. And you're too smart to be stupid enough to not see that. You know. I know you know." Krin sighed and stepped away, walking back towards the counter and the bottle of rum. "Your faith, it's delusion. You've deluded yourself. And now you're going to die for the delusion you've deluded yourself with." She took a ragged, reckless drink, rum dripping from her lips. "This is just suicide disguised as duty." Krin threw the bottle against the wall. "You're too much of a coward to admit the world is fucked. So you're going to let the fucked world kill you instead of deal with how fucked it is. It's clever. No, really. It's like making a statement. A really sad, stupid, almost silent statement, no one will hear except for me. And in exchange for hearing that statement, I get to stand here as my best friend kills themself."

The silence and echoes finally returned. And now they were here to stay.

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe left the diner and got into their car. They waited for three minutes. When Special Agent Krin did not follow, they drove away.

Special Agent Lincoln Lethe did all they could to savour the industrial monument of Cerulean City, the distant glimmer of the ocean, the coming fields and pockets of trees, the long journey to Fuschia City, knowing they were going to die. They couldn't. It was a blur; every stop where they presented their credentials, every beautiful landscape worth soaking in, every odd structure and roadside relic, every directions sign, every passing car, everything… Special Agent Lincoln Lethe could savour none of it. They were going to die.

Was Krin right? Were they delusional? If they were so certain they were going to die then perhaps their faith was delusion? And yet… self aware enough to ask these questions, Special Agent Lincoln Lethe kept driving. They would do their duty, even if no one expected them too, even if it was delusion. They would march into the Ministry of Social Order, demand to speak to Minister Grace themself, and lay it all out.

Lincoln had met the Minister once before. They tried not to remember, but the memories came regardless.

The Ministry of Social Order was a boring building, a large block of grey cement and small windows. The inside was nearly as plain, floor after floor of cubicled offices, suited workers and unflattering lights. But then there were the vines - all along the walls on every floor, thin green vines ran like capillaries, reaching, seemingly decorating, being more than they seemed.

Visit the basement and you'd find those vines in the foundation. Visit the sewers and you'd find those vines beyond the city. Visit the crawl space of any government office anywhere in Kanto and you'd find those vines.

At least that's what Lincoln had been told. Minister Yorick Grace was everywhere.

And maybe it was true. Lincoln couldn't shake the image of that room out of their head. The office on the top floor, consumed by vines, hot and wet and thick with mist; a jungle with two red eyes; something staring from within the darkness; past the undergrowth and the overgrowth, deep within the shadow, watching, listening, a patient presence prying - growing, strangling, entangling.

"Good morning, Minister. I am-"

"I know who you are."