So many people.
The one thing Riven hadn't gotten used to during all these months.
He'd long since stopped watching peoples' hands for weapons after strolling through the city after jobs. Ingrained thinking told him that it was a bad idea to let his guard down, but the place was generally peaceful enough not to worry about things like that. It was easy to feel pressured while amongst the crowds of people during the night, always expecting some sort of bladed weapon to come flying at his neck.
Silly thoughts of a paranoiac. But people made him jumpy. Crowds even more so, and Lumiose was chocked full of them at night.
Ironic that the so called City of Light was far more active when there was less light and more dark corners. Trainers zipped around everywhere during the day but since they never stayed in one place, there was never really that feeling that the city was all that lively. Nighttime was vastly different. People walked everywhere, and instead of hearing skates and bike chains scrape the floor or click with every pedal, there were voices and laughter; there were cries of pokemon small and large, lights from shops and lamps glowing in the darkness of night. Life.
Thinking about it deeper though, it wasn't as ironic as it seemed.
Lights do shine brighter in the dark. Makes sense really.
Slightly enjoyable though, in a way that differed from Rustboro, with its silent streets, or the still air of the smaller towns in Hoenn. Walking down Estival Avenue after watching a contest hopeful practice in Centrico Plaza for a few hours, he passed people happily and ignorantly chatting away about the new trends or other mundane things they cared about; celebrities, fashion, beauty contests, and occasionally a few gym battles. He slid hands into his pockets, rechecking his knives as he entered the crowd.
No such thing as too careful. Especially when my "boss" thinks she can spy on me and get away with it.
Scanning the rooftops with his eyes, he wondered if his stalker had buzzed off already. Normally, Riven wouldn't have had the patience nor the desire to sit at a bench and stare at someone practice the same routine over and over for hours.
Not too bad though, at least there was pretty colors.
An overhead image of the city flashed in his mind, gathered from the months of time he'd spent traversing the rooftops on his downtime. With Lumiose's layout, and its general lack of high-rise buildings like those in Rustboro, it was fairly difficult for any good stalker to get a complete view of any angle without directly exposing himself. But, even after spotting the sneaky bastard, Riven couldn't magically teleport into his face and stab him, so he settled for the next best thing.
Bore the shit out of him.
First hand experience reminded him that scouting was equal parts exciting and mind numbingly monotonous. The fun part was scoping out new locations and climbing mountains; testing yourself against the best obstacles nature could throw at you. The boring part was watching a blank expanse of land and waiting for hours on end to see if any troops based by. At least when you had no intelligence to guide you to the enemy encampment.
Heh. You were the intelligence.
Modern day surveillance was probably like that too, except here there was no need to scope out new locations nor were there any mountains to climb. Add in humid weather and it formed just the right trifecta of excruciating.
Nera, Nera, Nera. It's truly amazing how determined you are to make me talk first. Getting real tired of you.
Leader of a mercenary she might be, but she was no scout. Hiring a stalker to stalk him. How cute. The only reason that dickwad in Petalburg had gotten away with pickpocketing his money was because he wasn't all that used to navigating crowds that weren't actively trying to kill him, or the surrounding city landscape. Now that he had more experience in an urban environment, losing a tail or spotting one wasn't all that difficult. Not being able to get locked by a psychic made shaking one off all the better.
No cheats for you, Riven smirked to himself, side stepping a small group of children running up and down the street like a bunch of comets. They nearly knocked into him and one of the kid's baby Furfrou managed to peg him with sneeze. Riven frowned, wiping himself off.
Good god. This… is exactly why I dislike main streets. Children. I'd rather deal with people trying to kill me, at least I can strangle them. Makes life easier. In hindsight, probably should have taken the alleys. Then I wouldn't get showered in Furfrou snot.
While the alleys were a viable option, they did have some hefty drawbacks. At night those places were often overrun by thugs and other miscreants, and even an idiot with a pokemon could cause serious damage to an idiot without one, no matter how good said idiot's combat training was. Besides, gangs didn't particularly like him much, since for the better part of the year he'd been… optimizing the criminal underbelly of Lumiose for someone else. Walking in there alone while pokemonless would be the equivalent of showing up to a knife fight with a pencil.
Scratch that, toothpick.
Still. Probably wasn't good that he had helped shift power to a single side, but since there weren't any plans of staying here for very long, it mattered little. Dick move, perhaps, but it got him connected and was paying off. He'd done quite a bit of assignments for the man in charge, and that earned him some favors.
One of which he had called in.
1376 Estival Avenue. Should be it.
Stopping in front of the place, he examined the outside briefly. His contact had instructed him to meet at this particular restaurant, with a name that sounded like a nasally mewl than anything. French was weird. It wasn't a fancy place, but attracted a fair share of customers. This night it was fairly crowded, like it usually was, the smell of wine and hot food mixing with the various perfumes and fragrances Kalosians practically showered in.
He spotted an ashen haired man in the far left corner of the restaurant, calmly biting into his food.
Cyrille.
Apparently meant "lord" in French. He was a weasel of a man; skinny, old, and constantly sporting a smile that could give ghosts nightmares. Possibly enjoyed scaring people, got a kick out of seeing them squirm. He didn't look like much, but it was never a wise idea to underestimate someone based on looks. Especially not this man.
Reason why this guy was dangerous? A lot of reasons, many of them coinciding with grievous bodily harm and or severe pain. He now controlled three fourths of the illegal smuggling trade in Kalos, whether it be pokemon, weapons, or other items of interest, he did it. Messing with him was like prodding a sleeping dragon with a stick.
An excellent idea. If your idea of fun is being dead in several different pieces.
Riven made his way over to him, sliding into the seat across from him. The man looked up, chuckled to himself, and gave him a chilling, calculating smile. Gave Riven a shiver just looking at the damn guy.
"Prime, nice to see you've arrived. You look very casual today, you almost look… normal. It does not suit you," he said, thick Kalosian accent slurring some of his words. "I admit I am used to seeing you more suited for… work."
"It's hot," Riven replied with a shrug, browsing the menu. "And this isn't exactly a three star restaurant. Or else I would have worn a Froakie onesie."
"Funny man. I wanted to go to Restaurant Le Wow… but you do not have beasts of your own. I would have been denied service if you pulled out that blade you have there, no? That would have ruined my evening, and so, I chose this place. Not extravagant but cozy, would you agree?"
"I don't really frequent restaurants much, but I guess so. Fairly busy here though. You sure this is a good place?" Riven winced as he heard the piercing shriek of a demon of pure malice, also known as a human child. "Argh. Can barely stand the adult ones…"
Cyrille waved a hand, smiling in the direction of the wailing child. "This is the perfect place. There is talking and sounds, no one listens to another's conversation. In a place empty of life, a single noise is an explosion, a hush of whispers is like a scream. Here we may speak and none will bother to listen."
"Makes sense," Riven agreed, flinching after another round of wails. "I'm not going to engage in small talk though. I'll get right to it. I need some information."
"So specific," Cryille quipped sarcastically. The young mercenary frowned. Cyrille cocked his head, expectant. "No money, no extravagant item, no woman? You have been very busy in these months. Too busy to have fully enjoyed the wonders of Lumiose. Repressed desires are unhealthy, they become violence."
A little too late for that warning. "I just want information," Riven repeated. "That's it. None of that other stuff."
The ashen haired man grinned once again, pointing a finger at Riven. "I find it very strange that a mercenary is denying the three things mercenaries love the most. Very, very strange. You know, at first I believed that you were an informant, a mole, or… a policeman. But I was wrong, you helped my business become something that rivals that of Unova's network, and yet you ask for nothing but words? I am having difficulty understanding your reasons."
"Knowledge is power," Riven said bluntly, crossing his arms. "It's useful. What's the point of having money if you won't use it? What functional value does jewelry have to me?"
"The power of some trinkets may surprise you, but that is for another time. And women?" Cyrille pounced, ghost of a smirk on his face. "They can bring you happiness. Perhaps. You've always seemed a bit gloomy. I can find you one that can bring you joy."
"Doubt it." Riven denied calmly. "She'd have to be even more stubborn than I am. That's pretty hard to find."
"Or…" He held up a wrinkly finger. "Perhaps you've already found her?"The man responded sharply, scanning Riven's eyes for tells, but his face remained blank. "A mercenary that values practicality, and resists temptations?… Impossible. You have ulterior motives, yes?"
"We all do," Riven shrugged, glancing aside. He held up a palm, grabbing at air. "What I want you can't hold in your hands, or caress. It's intangible."
"A man of vision." Another crooked smile. "Why did you help me, then? With the power you allowed me to accumulate, I can easily kill you now, and you will never receive this intangible item. I have denied people of their desires before, it brings me joy."
"And we both know you wouldn't do that. Even someone as sadistic as you can see sense and the practical value of a person. I can imagine twenty plus dead cutthroats in a public restaurant as well as all known information about the biggest crime ring in Lumiose will be good for your image. You've seen what I can do. And I don't even have pokemon."
"Tricky and honest- dangerous man." Cyrille chuckled, shaking his head. "I will miss your skills, when you are gone. Such a pity. Honest man in a twisted man's trade, doing a twisted man's work, and remains functional... On the surface. You are not a mercenary." He cackled at the irony. "The soldier who lost his way. How cruel is the world?"
"Very cruel," Riven murmured. "So will you tell me what I want to know, or are you going to continue psychoanalyzing me? You've done this quite a lot, and with all due respect, it's irritating."
"Intellect, too. Special operations, perhaps? Such a waste of potential. What is it you want to know?"
"You're rich right?"
Cyrille gave him a look. Riven fought the urge to slam his face into the nearest desk.
"Damn, no shit. Of course you are- Okay, let's just- let's assume I never said that... There's an auction at Prism Tower tomorrow night. I want to know what it is they're auctioning and why. I wouldn't have asked you if I could see the items myself. But they only release the items on sale to people who are either rich or influential."
And fuck me, I couldn't use a computer to save my life.
The old man nodded. "And you are neither."
"Pretty much."
"I see. I admit I did peruse the items, but… they did not interest me. Nothing but dig site artifacts from five months ago. Useless to me. There was one that was different, but it failed to catch my interest. I have enough glowing rocks at home."
"Glowing rock? Evolution stone? Or-"
"No, no, no. A piece of metal with a strange shape," Cyrille cut in. "The glowing was its only redeeming feature. Pretty white light from the markings on the side. Interesting but not worth spending millions to put on a wall. If I wanted to do that I would buy a painting."
"You said markings." Riven grabbed the ketchup bottle from the table and smeared a rough drawing of the markings he'd seen on the blue sphere; paralleled lines and circles connecting with each other. "Like these?"
Cyrille stared at the crude picture, rubbing his chin with a hand. "Yes, like those. How did you know, hmmmmm?"
"I've seen things like that around recently. And those markings with increasing frequency too…" Riven whispered under his breath. Nera's interest suddenly made a lot of sense, as well as refusing to tell him about it. If he'd gotten his hands on it instead, and recognized the patterns, then she'd have no trump cards up her sleeve. I'd be in a position of power over her. That's the last thing she wants. Nice precaution, but there was one thing that didn't make any sense.
It was a complete accident that I stumbled on the sphere, and that it reacted when we got to that temple. Otherwise I would have passed it off as some useless rock. But Nera seems like she knows where these findings will be, and where. It's no coincidence that she knew it was going to be in Kalos. Those six months, that must have been how long the excavation took. She was stalling for time under pretext of searching for something.
Wasn't lying though. She was looking for something. But who informed her about an excavation conveniently having something to do with the sphere he found in Dewford? Before it even began?
It was like having a dozen outer puzzle pieces with all the central ones missing. You knew there were details, but you had no idea what the bigger picture was supposed to be. How big was the real question. If something like this was found in Kalos… it could be a lot bigger than he originally thought. Steven would have a field day, along with happy skipping and possible foaming at the mouth.
"Anyway-"Riven stood up, having only had a glass of water. "Thank you, Cyrille. I appreciate the hel-"
"Do not leave just yet," the man ordered. "Could you not have asked your employer?" Riven's expression was stone. "Ah, you are working alone. You don't want them to find out, or perhaps… they don't want you to find out?"
"They think they can keep me in the dark forever. I'm trying to change that."
"Interesting," Cyrille said ominously. "But there is one curious thing about this. Sit." Waved a hand, watching a little girl give a piece of lettuce to a Chespin. "Two days ago I made a sale. A large, very profitable, sale."
Riven raised a brow. Pokemon are highly valued, maybe he's talking about those. "Pokemon? Evolution stones?"
"Nothing like that. I sold weapons, Prime. And not just any weapons. Firearms. Rifles, pistols. Along with all of my accumulated ammunition. It was not a little bit."
Riven's gut turned, Petalburg and Forina were enough to tell him that whatever Cyrille was about to say, it wasn't good.
"As you know," he continued, "These firearms are extremely expensive. Banned in nearly all of the regions, they are extremely hard to smuggle. Regulations, security checkpoints, bag revisions, police. Very hard. One pistol goes for thirty thousand, one rifle even more. Two days ago, dangerous looking men in suits approached me. Twenty? Thirty? I don't know, I care little. Entire stock, disparu. They bought all of my smuggled weapons without a word. To 'unite' the world. Curious."
"Unite the world?" Riven echoed. Great. Fanatics.
"Yes, and what is the word… Irony! Yes. They asked me about the same thing you did." Cyrille grinned widely as he saw Riven swallow, losing color in the face. "You look troubled."
"Troubled is an understatement," he growled. "Are they after it too?" And if they are, what does that mean for me, and the others? Firearms to grab an item. Robbery?
The old man shrugged, eyeing the remnants of food on his plate. He looked back up at Riven, still smirking. "Perhaps. They did not tell me. But these people… The way they looked, spoke, breathed… Foreign. From their voice…?" He appeared pensive for a second, then huffed. "From Hoenn. The accent is quite distinguishable. These men... No one buys entire stocks of weapons like this, unless they have a lot of money at their disposal. Well connected, well funded. Dangerous."
Riven grimaced.
Hoenn? What's so important about this that has mercs from Hoenn coming to Kalos?
The item Cyrille described didn't sound like an evolution sphere, nor did it sound very interesting.
But what if there's more? I don't know how it looks like, too early to tell what it does. Or might do. Can't be another human evolution stone, otherwise it might have reacted with one of the people there already, just like it did with Will. Assuming they all function like that at least. There's too much attention on it for it to be unimportant. There is still a possibility that it's useless, but that wouldn't explain armed men coming for it. Shit.
"I know that look," Cyrille said wryly. "Oh, don't worry. If you decide to go after this item you seek, I will not ask for what it is, nor care for its importance, but let me tell you one thing. I had a friend a few years back who also sold many weapons to people. This happened to him before, once. Nearly forty sold, at one time. Hollow point bullets for maximum tissue damage, very very expensive. Thicker, anti-pokemon rounds, for those with tougher hides. Such fascinating weapons. Orran design, hehe."
This time his lips edged upwards, revealing crooked teeth. The smile gave Riven chills as Cyrille leaned in, ominous tone gripping his nerves like a vice.
"Do you know who he sold them to?"
The crowd's commotion seemed to fade away into useless white noise.
"Trainers, Prime. Children. In Sinnoh. Who believed they were the only true trainers. Who believed in the words of one stupid little boy angry at the world. A little boy who could not protect his brother from the cruel hands of fate."
Riven blanched, panic spreading throughout his body, recalling what Seab had said.
"And you know what happened after that?" He steadied his tone, soft and eerily serene. "Funerals. Many, many funerals." Raising three fingers, he paused, waiting. "Three of them gym leaders. Byron. Gardenia. Crasher Wake. Tragic. Take care of yourself, Prime. I would hate to lose someone as useful as you to an… inconvenience."
The man smiled once again and stood up, casually strolling out of the restaurant among oblivious cries of innocent young children and pokemon.
Riven remained glued to the seat, frozen in place, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.
Thousands of people in Prism Tower daily… Sinnoh. Organizations. Weapons.
Just like the old saying.
History has a tendency to repeat itself. Unless someone breaks it.
He ran a hand through his hair, a bead of cold sweat flowing down his cheek. Taking out the holo caster, he flipped it open, staring at the contact list. He needed someone he could trust, someone who would see this through for reasons that didn't involve personal interest. That way things wouldn't completely devolve into a complete shitestorm. Scrolling down the list, he came to a name.
Perfect. But first…where is the nearest cell phone store? And how much time do I have?
He stared at a clock in a nearby shop, the second hand slowly ticking away at the time. Time that never seemed to be enough.
As Riven left, the clock continued to count down.
Click. Click. Click.
Flash.
Walking among the webs of netting that resembled silk threads, Viola gracefully descended down her gym, remembering every nook and cranny, hopping between each thread like a Surskit. Taking a few pictures with her camera on the way down to the safety net at the base, she reached her darkroom, examining the photos suspended from her Surskit's string shot, which served as a sort of clothes line.
Staring longingly at the pictures she took on her trip to Anistar City; the sundial as well as many shots of battles between trainers and their pokemon. There was happiness, smiles, and determination in the faces of those people and their partners. The same look she saw in her gym matches, followed by the reflection of dreams that burned with passion in the eyes of her challengers.
Walking past them, she reached a corner of the room where one photograph remained suspended. A grimy, blood-stained man with disheveled hair and a fierce but exhausted expression- the surroundings behind him lay broken and battered, the ground decimated and scorched with the signs of battle.
She took it after the battle with the Pangoro. To say it was a powerful shot didn't do it justice. It captured a different perspective than the photos she normally took. A side people knew existed but seldom saw. The dark, gritty side of the pokemon world. Primal. Deadly. Kill or be killed.
Prime's hand loosely held a bloodied sword, his body language akin to that of a wild pokemon preparing for the worst, his breathing strained from the fight. A far-off look could be seen in those hollowed brown eyes, memories of the past perhaps.
Losing herself in the strength of the photograph, Viola jumped when her phone vibrated in her back pocket.
Caller ID: Unknown.
Hesistant to answer she pushed the talk button on the screen, really hoping there were no telemarketers trying to sell her Tentacruel jelly. Good for the skin, yeah right. "H-hello? Who's this?"
"Viola."
"Yeah, that's me… Who are you?" Viola tensed. Hopefully also not a stalker. Ever since they featured her in that trainer magazine, she'd been receiving very disturbing photographs of a few mens' less than sizable pride.
"No, I'm not a stalker or a telemarketer," the voice answered, bemused. "No one in their right mind would ever buy Tentacruel jelly."
He read my mind!
The voice was deep, but not necessarily hostile. More… bored? No, deadpan. Oh, OH. She definitely knew who this was. Just as I was looking at his photo too. It's like he has a sixth sense. Maybe he can see dead people…? "Prime, is that you?"
"It was the deadpan, wasn't it. Trademark, you know." He sounded prideful for a second before switching back to his indifferent monotone. "No really- deadpan is useful, it's great for cards. Not that I play cards much anyway."
Viola smiled, shaking her head. "Wait. Didn't I give you my number in case anything happened? I swear that I did-"
"You did."
A blonde brow curled upward. "Then why-"
"Burner phone. Don't ask, no time to explain," he answered quickly. "Viola, I need you to do something."
"Ok…?"
There was a sigh over the phone, like he was collecting his thoughts. And a barely audible curse. "I need you to contact Clemont and prepare the entire Lumiose police force for anything that classifies as a 'wait, what' event. You're the only one with ties to the officials that I can contact without landing me in a pile of shit the size of an ocean."
"'The entire police... force?" Viola blinked stupidly for a second, then began to panic as her brain processed the absurdity of his request. "I- what? When do you want this done?"
"Well, technically? Erm. Tonight."
"Oh, crap," Viola squeaked. "T-tonight? Uhhh, have you tried asking at the precinct? That seems like their department… I-I don't think that I can do that. I'm just the Santalune City gym leader, not the Elite Four!"
"Oh, I already tried the police precinct. Yes, I walked in there and calmly explained to them that shit is about to go down in all the colors of the rainbow. They gave me an entire squadron, a box of donuts, and birthday giftcards."
"Okay, Prime. I get it, police don't trust mercenaries. But... You should talk to Clemont instead!" Viola huffed.
"Don't have his number. And he's weird."
"Let me put you on hold then," Viola said.
"Why exactly…?"
That Tentacruel jelly sounds good right about now, she thought, her mood falling into the Earth's crust."I, uh… think I might need some coffee before you tell me. It's almost one AM- Not sure if I can handle this right now." Usually, people called mercenaries. Mercenaries didn't call people. The scenarios of horrible things she was conjuring up in her mind were about to make her mind explode. "But before you tell me, how bad is it?"
"Viola. Let me put it this way," he said ominously. "That coffee?"
"Yeah?"
"Make it black. No sugar. No cream. You're going to need it."
The blonde swallowed the fist sized lump that seemed to have formed in her throat, shakily clambering to the coffee machine.
"Did you get the coffee yet?"
"Yes."
"Good. Drink it between pauses, otherwise it might come forcefully out of your mouth in spray-like manner. While hilarious, I wouldn't be there to see it. So don't take a huge swig," Prime warned. "Coffee stains are hard on white clothing."
"You're going to tell me about something extremely concerning and you're worried about my shirt? You need to work on your priorities." Viola rubbed her eyes. "How exactly do you expect me to tell them to just get all the police ready? In Lumiose? They're going to ask me where I got this information. To tell them that a mercenary told me, I think I'd be in trouble. I hope you understand that, so please, no 'don't ask' business. If this is serious, please be serious."
"I might mouth off quite a bit, but I'm rarely ever not serious, Viola. As for what's going to happen, I don't quite know myself. All I know is, a large group of ominous people were asking questions about tonight's auction at Prism tower," Prime explained. "A large, fanatical group. I didn't even meet them and I can smell the ignorant idiocy from here. They didn't just ask questions, Viola. They bought weapons. Firearms used to kill people, and rounds for pokemon too- for insurance, I guess."
There was an eerie silence. The coffee in Viola's hands steamed silently in her room, warming her cold hands.
"Needing that many guns… doesn't seem like they intend on fighting with pokemon. At least primarily. They're looking for maximum human casualties in case they don't get what they want. Let's just hope it's not a message they want to send, otherwise... fuck. If anything, it'd be similar to what happened in Sinnoh, if it comes to the worst possible scenario. I don't know much about what happened there, but I assume it was pretty bad. You were a leader then, right?"
"Yeah... What happened in Sinnoh- it was frightening. People didn't want to go outside, and guards were placed at the entrances of every gym. The Elite Four closed down the gym circuit for months after that sadistic tournament took place," She recalled, catching her breath. The Pangoro, and now this… I should prepare for a heart attack every time he calls. "Are you sure that's what's going to happen?"
"No. Which is why the police need to be on standby. Not sure what these assholes are going to do, but I have a good feeling about what they're after, and it's mine. But I'm not going to let them turn things to shit either, that'd be inconvenient."
"So you're doing this for yourself and not for the good of the people of Lumiose?" Viola bit back, anger rising.
"Mercs don't work for free." Prime stated, a sliver of hesitance in his voice, as if he didn't believe it himself. "What I am should tell you all you need to know about me. I'm selfish, first and foremost."
"You really believe that?"
"Don't know what to believe in," he said with heavy uncertainty. "Can you do this or not?"
"I'll try," Viola assured. But it was a lot to do in a day. Convincing them that the story was authentic was going to be even more difficult. "Maybe, but I'll need details. Make up a story maybe? If it's from you, they probably won't believe a word I tell them, and I can't blame them. Mercenaries aren't too trustworthy."
"Yet you trust me," he pointed out.
"Not many people go up against a twelve foot Pangoro with a sword, that's just insane," she replied. "You're an honest guy, Prime. Even if you don't believe it yourself. I might be one of the more inexperienced gym leaders, but honesty and determination is one thing that really stands out. I think you're not as selfish as you think."
"Honest huh," he said. "…You're the second person today to tell me that."
"Who was the first?"
"Someone I probably shouldn't mention to protect my own ass. He's the one that gave me this information but we had a deal about secrecy, can't reveal his name without incriminating myself," Prime apologized. "Sorry, Viola. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just-"
"No, it's fine! I'm just glad you decided to warn us in case. By tonight isn't going to be much time, but I think they can lend some of their best fighters in case things get rough, I don't think I should jump into the fight if things get hairy though."
"That's fine, stay safe. We don't need any more gym leaders dying. " Prime exhaled loudly. "You did well against the Pangoro, and did what any gym leader should have done. You didn't leave the problem for someone else- you solved it, and that's all that matters. You did your job. Now it's time for Lumioses' protectors to do the same, just watch from the sidelines, you're helping enough as it is."
The young gym leader couldn't help but smile at that, feeling proud of herself. "What will you be doing then?"
"I need to work some things out with someone beforehand, but I'll be at the tower in case anything happens. If push comes to knife and gun though, I can't guarantee things will remain clean. If pokemon get involved… bad news. Someone tries to kill me, I take them out first. You understand?" He stated harshly. His tone softened. "But I'll try to avoid lethal force, it would be a nightmare for the region if it turned into a bloodbath. I'll try to limit it, I sense your disapproval from here."
"Thank you," Viola breathed, holding a hand to her chest. "Reminds me of Petalburg… My sister sometimes still thinks about what happened there. It really scared her, you know? All that blood... Prime? You there?"
"Oh, uh… yeah, I'm here." A strained breath. "Anyway, I need to go. Thanks for your help."
"I'll do what I can," she said cheerfully. "You really helped Santalune, I'll gladly return the favor. Protect yourself, okay?"
"God, you gym leaders… so damn charismatic. Way too nice," Prime scoffed. "No wonder people like all of you so much."
"We prefer not to brood and be all rough around the edges," Viola joked back. "But there's a bit of charm in that too right?"
"Heh, I wish," he chuckled. "I'll see you around."
"Bye."
The line clicked, and Viola found herself sitting the silence of her room, a feeling of uneasiness rising from within. She sighed deeply, running both hands nervously through her hair.
People could die and I won't be able to do anything about it… Prime… I hope everything goes well.
For Lumiose, and for Kalos.
Kai sat in his room, slowly dazing off with an edition of the Pokemon Weekly on his lap. His transition into peaceful slumber was interrupted by a quiet sliding of the door. A head of black hair poked out of the doorway into the room, examining him to see if he was still alive. Riven tip-toed to the foot of the bed, squinting and quiet as a mouse.
Raising two fingers, Kai laughed as Riven jumped back a good three feet. Maybe a Skitty was his spirit pokemon. Turning on the light, Kai rubbed some of the sleepiness out of his eyes.
"Riven, you're back late. Had a busy night?"
The young man more or less nodded, waggling a hand. "I guess so," he said unenthusiastically. "If you classify heart attack inducing as busy. Like you did now, I almost just died."
"Hah. Did something happen?"
"A guy hit on me today, but besides that, no, not yet."
"Not yet? What?"
Riven appeared hesitant, shifting his gaze from Kai's face to the floor multiple times. "Isole and Cormac probably didn't tell you, but something is going to be auctioned at Prism tower tomorrow. And they're not the only ones interested in it." He saw Kai's raised eyebrows and sighed again. "And I don't mean just me."
"Rich people?"
"Criminals."
Kai thought about it for a second. "Aren't they the same thing?"
Riven raised a finger to argue, then put it down. "What you did there, I saw it. Well played."
"Thank you," Kai bowed. "These criminals?"
"Yes. They may be mercenaries, or crazy, fanatical morons with a lot of money. Morons armed with weapons, the kind designed to kill people with brutal efficiency. Ones that shoot bullets."
Kai's expression became severe, concern dawning on his face. "Riven, I know you're trying to undermine Nera but don't you think tackling this alone-"
"Kai, don't worry about me." Riven cut in, twirling his thumbs. "I'm already getting some help in case anything… major happens, but I-I need, no- I'm asking for a favor from you."
"From me?" Kai repeated, surprised. "What kind of favor?"
"To send a message to someone far away in Hoenn." He held up the paper, looking at it for a painful moment. "And deliver something else with it." Reaching into his pocket, Riven took a small object out and held it high in his palm, a tiny smile on his lips.
"Is that… Who I think it is?" Kai stuttered, incredulous. Then laughed lowly, shaking his head. "I was wondering what happened to her… "
"I practiced a two whole months for that, you know. Throwing darts really helped," Riven chuckled proudly. He rolled the object in between his fingers."She'll like it, I think."
"Ah, I see what this is about," Kai grinned wryly. Mismatched eyes gave him a disapproving look. "Just teasing. But I don't think you'll need such a big box for those two things."
Riven scratched the side of his head, opening the box to reveal two stacks of money inside. "Aaaannd about three hundred thousand or so too. If that, uh, wouldn't be asking for too much?" He winced, waiting for the answer.
Kai was slack-jawed, looking like someone had slapped him. "You- you want to send money and that in a package? You're breaking about twenty different laws, you know. Smuggling and possibly contraband too. I know some people that can turn a blind eye, but it will be expensive. Especially from Kalos to Hoenn. The distance is pretty substantial, it might take some time."
Riven shook his head, eyes fixated on the ground. "Doesn't matter, I can pay. If it takes a couple days, maybe even two weeks, I don't care. As long as it gets there, I'm fine with anything. Money's just paper to me."
"But-" Kai examined the incredibly ordinary piece of paper, "-a written message. That is fairly-"
"Old-fashioned?" Riven finished, reddening.
"Yes, yes it is," Kai agreed. "And dare I say ro-"
"I'm just going to stop you there," Riven scowled. "People might get ideas. Ideas they will literally die for. Those people scare me."
The older man gave him a rueful smile."It's still an unorthodox way of getting a message out. Especially in this age. You couldn't have used E-mail- Oh, right. I forgot you're terrible with technology."
Riven grinned widely. "Well, you know back in my day-"
"No, no ,no, no," Kai countered, holding a hand out. "I think you're seventy years too short to be saying that quite yet. It's hard enough listening to the old people complain about youngsters in the cafes. You're not old and wrinkly yet, even if you're technically ancient history. On second thought, I don't think young girls should be hanging out with you. Your positivity might be contagious."
Both of them laughed quietly, settling into comfortable silence.
"Is this girl… special to you?" Kai asked carefully. "You've been very defensive around the others about it."
"You're not the one keeping me here, so you don't have to worry about me lashing out. I just don't want them going after her is all. I owe her a lot. I can call her a friend. That's good enough for me."
"Well said," Kai acknowledged, taking the box from Riven. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I'll make sure this gets to its destination. Hope it goes well at Prism tower."
Riven looked out the window, where lights could be seen coming from Centrico Plaza, and nodded. "I hope so too. Sleep well, Kai."
Heading back to the balcony, he jumped down into the dark street below, the crescent moon shining overhead. Watching people pass him by, he grimaced.
But hope is a frightening thing, and as fragile as glass.
Daylight and the busy sound of tourists and shoppers woke him. Riven stirred from his nap on one of the benches in Prism Tower's lobby, a light sleep to ward off the exhaustion of staying awake almost twenty-eight hours. He'd almost fallen asleep standing straight up on the escalator.
That would have been embarrassing. Sleepy idiot intends to fight off crazy guys with guns, and gets defeated by a staircase. Street cred level: decimated.
"No people running around like Torchic's with their heads cut off yet," Riven muttered to himself, examining the area around him. His entire body felt tense, filled with the feeling that anyone among the tourists could potentially be a nutjob with a weapon.
"Hmmm, but don't I always feel that way?" Riven asked himself, earning a strange look from a woman across from him.
But god did paranoia have a way of screwing with people. His was on overdrive right now. Things were a lot worse when you knew something was going to go down, but just didn't know when.
That's like knowing you're going to brown your pants at some point, but it hasn't happened yet.
It's, uh, not a good feeling.
Area still needed some studying and observation, and the day had a couple hours left in it before night. He called Viola for an update on the situation; the police were on alert, but pending any news or sign of concern. That was good, she actually managed to convince them without too much questions.
The bottom floors didn't provide much information; the standard concentration of shoppers and tourists scrambling about. Nothing was amiss there, but hell that's where things often went to shit the worst.
I'll have to check down there if anything happens. Now for the top floors. Auction should be at the very top, and there should be a lot of suits…
Trainers and suits. Besides the entrance to the gym(which was extremely loud, all the damn time), the private conference rooms were usually reserved for high class events and frequently maintained guests of a wealthier aspect. The trainers completely ignored that section of the floor, concerned only with the gym. Normally they entered through the bottom, and exited at the top, where the floor served as a mope corner for those poor souls who had been crushed by Clemont.
Moving to the other side of the floor with all the suits and pretending to look out the window, he eyed the people entering the room, looking for any signs of concealed weapons. Couldn't check them himself, there were guards. Always had to be guards, flanked by even more muscle-y guards.
Muscleheads won't let me get past. Those Machokes are nothing to sneeze at either. Couldn't go in if I wanted to. Hypnosis would be really nice right now. Should go before they get suspicious.
Shooting an indignant look at one of the guards, he pushed the button to the elevator. It stopped on the third floor on the way down.
When the door opened, brown eyes connected with eyes the color of steel; of which belonged to a certain impeccably-dressed man with equally colored hair- who at the current moment looked like someone had beat him upside the head with a shovel.
Both men stood in the elevator, slack-jawed and dumbfounded.
"S-Steven?" Riven gawked. "What- You- W-Why? Here? What do? Fuck."
Steven made a strangled noise, and nearly choked on his saliva. "Ri- Brown eyes…? Kalos? What the…? Must have slipped me something on the plane…"
Riven stepped forward off the wall, jaw still on the floor, then breathed in and out. Slowly. He jabbed Steven in the chest with a pointed finger. "You're real. Why are you real?" He kept poking him. "You can't be real."
Recovering quicker than Riven from the shock, Steven cleared his throat… and stopped Riven's thumb. "Of course I'm real. Riven, stop stabbing me with your finger. What are you doing here?"
"No, what are you doing here?"
"I asked first!"
"So? You should be- YOU SHOULD BE IN HOENN, LOOKING AT ROCKS OR SOME SHIT," Riven blurted out, waving his hands around. "WHAT IN THE SHITE ARE YOU DOING IN KALOS? AND IN PRISM TOWER? TODAY?"
"I CAN SAY THE SAME TO YOU! YOU'VE BEEN MISSING FOR MORE THAN HALF A YEAR, AND NOW I FIND YOU HERE OF ALL PLACES?" Steven shot back, initiating a screaming match inside the elevator.
It started to move downwards, arriving at the bottom floor, where a group of dazed tourists unfortunately watched the squabbling go down.
Riven and Steven turned to the side, holding each other by the neckline, noting the dazed expression of the crowd.
"They're staring."
"Yes," Steven remarked. "Shouting tends to do that. Push the button before we make a scene."
"Which button? Be more specific. The first floor button, the fire emergency button-"
"Riven. The button. The one that says close?"
Frowning, Riven pushed the fifth floor button, then pulled the emergency lever. The elevator bobbed in place, coming to a jarring halt.
Steven sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose. Fixing his tie and brushing himself off, he glared."That was unseemingly."
"Shouting is uncharacteristic of you, yes," Riven replied blankly. "Must be my innate charm that drives you to listen to your baser instincts." Cursed lowly, muttering something about wrecking plans."Seriously though, Steven, why are you here?"
"And seriously, I could ask you the same," Steven returned. "I'm not the one who's been missing for the better part of a year, with not a single word of communication. It's even more surprising to find you here in Kalos, perfectly fine with two brown eyes and most important of all… a haircut."
"Contacts. Hair looks nice, doesn't it?"
"Not the point." Steven's eyes narrowed, judging. "Spill."
Riven shifted his gaze away from Steven, clearly uneasy. "Let's see. How can I explain this without sounding like a complete asshole…?"
"For starters, we can get out of this elevator. I'm sure the people on the other floors are probably wondering why it's stuck with two people inside it," the former champion suggested. "Let's go somewhere else."
"Bathroom, fourth floor."
"Why there?"
"No one goes there, the bathrooms are spotless. Trust me, best place to take a-"
"Don't," Steven said, cringing. "Bathroom it is."
As the elevator doors swung open, an angry mob of people shot holes into them with their looks. An old man yelled indiscriminately at them. "You two having sex in there, or what?"
Completely serious, Riven looked the old man in the eyes. "He's good with his hands."
The crowd gasped.
"R-really?" The man gaped.
"No." Riven nudged Steven, mouthing, let's go.
Steven's hand connected with his face. "Did you really have to do that? Do you know how much trouble I got into because people thought I was 'sexually' interested in Brendan? If someone finds out-"
Riven abruptly stopped, making Steven almost crash into him. "Never underestimate the power of surprise." Turned back around, then stopped in his tracks. His head spun around fast enough to give him whiplash. "Wait, you did what with Brendan?"
"Sometimes I really do feel like hitting you."
Back in the restroom, both of them awkwardly faced one another, silently deciding who should speak first. "Why haven't you contacted them?" Steven began. "They've been worried about you. Gale's been-"
"I know," Riven said quietly. "I know… I'm not as fine as you think. I haven't been able to contact them because someone's been keeping me on a tight leash. I'm far from happy here."
"Tight leash?" Steven asked, concerned.
"The guys who blackmailed me. I've been working for them, and let's just say they don't give me too much free reign," Riven continued, lifting up his leg to show the tracker near his ankle.
"And you haven't-" Steven made stabbing gestures.
"They're like me," Riven clarified. "Also, getting answers out of people works better when they're alive. Semi-alive works too but that usually only works on random grunts no one cares about."
Wait. Like him? "They-they came through time as well?"
A nod. "Yeah, that's why I've been sticking with them for so long. They knew things I didn't. Some of which they're still keeping from me. Maybe I should try poking them with pointy objects..."
"But how? Did you ask them how they came here too?"
"Naturally. Thing is, they all remember the same thing I did. Roar, unconsciousness, then wake up well-" He held two hands out, as if demonstrating something. "Here." Riven huffed, leaning on a wall. "I'm assuming you're here for the digsite artifact?"
"Yes," Steven confirmed. "It surprised me when I first saw it, and after I saw those markings on the sides of it, I had to see it myself. They're-"
"-the same as the sphere. Yeah. They asked about that too, by the way. The sphere I mean," Riven stated. "Been circle jerking each other around for information for months, so I had to do a bit of connection building to bypass that. That's what got me information about the artifact."
"Oh. That's right, they only give out information about to auctions to people with influence or wealth," Steven remembered from vague conversations with his father.
"Well, considering you're the stand-in CEO of Devon and a former champion, it's understandable to overlook something like that. Life is tough for us plebs. Speaking of which, nobody has come up to you and asked you for a picture or something? Champions draw crowds like lamps draw Venomoth."
"Ah, no. Only the older trainers in Kalos know somewhat about me. I stepped down a few years ago, the younger generation think I'm just another foreigner," Steven explained, slightly pleased with himself.
"Why do you sound happy about that? Nevermind, hermit who looks at rocks in a man cave, it all makes sense," Riven sneered.
"Was wondering when you'd start to insult me." Steven made himself breathe. "What did you think you'd do with the artifact once you got it?"
"Leverage," Riven admitted sheepishly. "It'd be a trump card up my sleeve to get information out of my 'boss', so to speak. Apart from that, my plan was to give it to you."
"So we're both here for the same reason then. Convenient timing," Steven remarked. "You don't look so excited to see me then."
"Didn't expect to see you here, of all places."
"That's not it, is it?" Steven guessed intuitively.
The young man looked downcast, a somber look on his face. "Don't tell them, alright?"
"Who?"
"Gale… and the others." Riven hesitated. "Especially not Gale."
"You want me to keep the fact that you're alive and well from them? Why?" Steven asked in confusion. "Do you like making yourself miserable?"
"No… I- I just don't want them to worry. If you told them what I was doing, they'd probably try and do something stupid. Trainers are like that. There are still some things I have to do. Things they shouldn't have to see. It's best they don't know. Besides, if you told them where I was, it would ruin the surprise," Riven smiled sadly. "Please. I'm asking you sincerely."
Steven grabbed the bridge of his nose again, holding back a headache. "You are incredibly troublesome, you know. Fine, I won't tell them. But you're going to be the one to blame, not me."
"That's fine by me," Riven accepted. His voice steadied, serious. "Steven."
"Yes?"
"Did you notice any… oddities? In the people in the tower? Suspicious behavior?"
Raising a brow, the other man wrinkled his nose. "Is this your usual bout of paranoia or something different?"
"Different."
"I'm not going to like this am I?"
"Not one bit." Like it isn't even the start. "Let's get something to eat, we've got some time."
Steven sat in shocked realization, mind dazed from the sudden influx of information. What Riven had been doing, what he was planning to do, and practically everything else. Including what he'd learned the day prior.
Things were… pretty bad.
"Riven, we should secure the area, get the people out of here," he proposed. "They're in danger, and if there's a bloodbath here the entire region will devolve into chaos."
"You think I don't know that?" Riven replied, lazily munching on his food. "If we evacuate the area, it'll call off the auction. Possibly for good. Not only that but if we don't, then it can draw out whoever these guys are. Since I've already notified the police, it shouldn't be difficult to intercept them. It's hitting three Taillow with one cannon ball."
"So that's your plan then?" Steven practically hissed. "You want to put these peoples' lives in danger all because it's efficient?"
Brown eyes were resolute, unwavering.
"Tsk, guess mercenaries really are as heartless as everyone makes them out to be."
"Sometimes we have to do things we're not proud of," Riven said coldly. "I'm not made for saving people. I don't want to save people. You're still a champion at heart. Can't just try and forget the problem exists. Cynthia did that that in Sinnoh. Look how well that turned out. You have to find the problem and destroy it before it gets larger. That's how you solve them."
Clenching his jaw at the mention of Cynthia, Steven held in his anger. No one had seen her since the incident. "Do you even hear yourself? That kind of thinking…" He didn't look angry anymore, just sad. And disappointed. Riven turned away, breaking eye contact. "You were better than this. When I watched your battle with Lucia, I could see your face, the way you smiled with pride when Baron gave it his all. When you would banter with Gale and Will. What's happening to you?"
Riven remained silent, fingering the Diancie stone hanging inside his shirt, not knowing the answer to the question himself. Before he could formulate a response, he spotted Isole and Cormac. Ducking his head low, he whispered, "you should go, Steven. They're here."
"Who's here?"
"My 'co-workers'. If they see you with me they'll want to know why I'm talking with the former champion of the Hoenn region. They're not stupid. Go. Keep a look out for any unsavory sorts while you're up there."
Steven nodded, standing up. As he turned to leave, he looked at Riven in the eyes- the soul piercing stare of a champion. "Riven, you were climbing out of the hole, don't dig yourself back in. Come back soon, for your own sake. They'd hate to see you like this."
Watching him go, Riven thought about it for a second, deciding to focus on more important matters. Specifically, asshole one and two going up to the top floor. Hiding his face behind his soda cup, Riven observed their actions.
They glanced his way, but the cup proved too strong. Completely missed him.
Once the two disappeared into the elevator, Riven let out a groan of frustration.
Cormac and Isole, suit and dress. Means they're invited. There goes that plan. I expected them to at least be as shit out of luck as me and be unable to attend the event. Plan B, Plan B, Plan… Huh. Well I suppose if those guys attacked… I could grab the thing in the confusion, but… that's a risky plan.
Paced in the restroom on the fourth floor for almost an hour, before slumping on the toilet. He held up two hands, weighing negatives.
Auction is probably still going underway, the item is last on the table so it shouldn't be long. Wouldn't be a long shot to guess that those fanatics have a man on the inside. They'll make their move when it's revealed. The only way out of there is through the elevator, and if something happens, the police will be ready to move in. They'd be boxed in, probably going to take hostages. Plan would be moot otherwise, unless they're really that stupid.
Still, how was he going to do this amidst a bunch of gun-toting jackholes while keeping it out of Nera's hands? If Cormac or Isole saw him, he'd have to confront them personally and that might cause unwanted consequences. He could help Steven, but that would make things infinitely worse, whilst revealing his connection to the man. Then it'd be checkmate for him.
I'd already be burning a whole lot of bridges at once, no need to metaphorically obliterate myself. This has to work somehow, or I have to salvage something.
If it works out half-assedly…
A poorly drawn image of his face appeared in his mind, crashing into the floor like a fucking meteor. Thank you for playing. You tried. Gold star. By the way? You're still screwed.
And that's if it goes successfully wrong. What about failure?
On one hand, I fuck up and die because a pokemon chomped my face or I get riddled full of holes. Simple, makes sense. On the other hand, they're tougher than I expect, and I can't grab the thing. Either way, something has to go wrong. Catastrophically so. After all, the universe loves to mess with me.
Must be soon too, my shit-is-about-to-go-down senses are tingling.
As if on cue, gunshots erupted, followed by panic and obligatory screaming.
"Yup, never disappoints." Taking out the burner phone, Riven dialed Viola. With luck, the police hadn't gotten word of what was happening yet, and everyone outside remained oblivious. Otherwise things could devolve into utter ass hattery.
Viola answered, knowing that if the mercenary was calling, something had happened. She asked, anyway preparing herself."Prime? Did something happen?"
"Oh, yes. The guests have arrived. Uh, they're probably scaring the hell out of some people right now. Or putting dozens of holes in them, if they're complete idiots that is- which would make this easier, by the way. Not for the janitors though... Regardless, tell the police to hold, send the cavalry in too early and we might not be able to get the chance to see what they're really after."
"And make the situation potentially worse?" Viola reprimanded. "Are you insane? Where are you now?"
"The toilet," Riven answered simply.
"My god, Prime. Be serious! Are you really there?"
"Yes. I wasn't lying."
"And what are you doing there?" She asked, stunned. "Shouldn't you be… fighting things?"
"Well, you see, I'm plotting my counterattack," Riven replied dryly. A rolling sound could be heard in the background. Then a fwip. Viola blinked in confusion, as well as the other officers listening in on the conversation.
"Is that…?"
"The counterattack."
"That must be your sense of humor talking," she carried on, growing accustomed to his antics. "Finish your counterattack against the toilet quickly then. Sergeant said you have thirty minutes Prime. And if you try anything, they'll bring you in too. Just warning you."
"Wait, you didn't tell them my name, did you?"
"Of course not, I said you were a private investigator with a military background, who preferred to remain anonymous. If I mentioned you, they'd probably arrest me."
"And it worked?"
"Well, yeah."
"Life is so not fair," he grumbled.
Viola giggled for a moment. "Any pokemon yet?"
"I wish I could answer that question, but unfortunately, I can't see through walls and nothing has exploded yet. So I'm guessing-"
Something exploded.
"Uhh... On second thought, I'll just call you back and keep you updated." The call ended, leaving Riven alone in the restroom, concealed in his stall. "Thirty flipping minutes…? Police. Let's just hope they can do their part, given their outstanding track record when things land face first in shit."
As for the issue at hand…
Couldn't bumrush the gunmen. Or kill the lights. Despite the darkness taking out their eyesight, spraying wildly in a building was a hell of a lot more dangerous than out in the open. No light would also cripple the police. And if there were dark pokemon among those gunmen… Well, that'd defeat the purpose.
I'll worry about that later. Right now, I need to focus on getting out of here without raising alarms.
Looking at his empty soda cup, Riven cocked his head, an idea flashing in his mind. Good old stratagem number twelve; always be flexible enough to take advantage of any opportunity that presents itself. Some idiot is bound to come looking in here. Then I can introduce him to soda cup.
Unlocking the stall lock, he prepared himself, muscles tensing. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation, almost thrumming out of his chest.
Sure enough, the door swung open minutes later, and black boots entered, followed by the bashing open of stall doors.
As the boots came to a halt in front of his stall and the door slammed open, Riven flung.
I know this chapter was a little too early for all of you(I'm clearly lying, 4 weeks holy crap), but I apologize. These summer game events are way too strong. Been grinding harder than a drunk college student at a party for most of these games. Free stuff is hard to pass up.
But I digress, I wrote this like three times over and I'm still not happy with it. I don't think I need to mention this, but I dislike transition chapters. Those seem like the hardest to write.
As for the theories… well, the humans are