Espeonage

	Rubrum’s paws pounded against the damp stone. One after another, he raced up the dank stairway, eyeing the candlelight at its peak. His heart raced, his lungs burned, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.

	“Almost there,” Rubrum breathed, and shot a quick glance backward at his students. Three of them followed behind – Maestro, Asher, and Fey. “All of you – keep going, keep quiet, and follow me.”

	And so they ran. As fast as they could, the four Pokémon threw themselves up the staircase, out of its decrepit doorway, and spilled into the dimly lit library. A candle still burned at the reception desk, set there by Asher an hour prior; its gray wax dripped into a copper dish below. 

	Rubrum caught his breath for a moment under its warm glow. He leaned himself over the desk, greedily gulping that warm air, before sputtering: 

	“We’re not safe here. We need to go to my dorm.” He patted the sweat from his brow, then asked: “Anyone opposed?” 

	The others were too exhausted to argue. Maestro nodded blankly, sweat evaporating from his lolling feline tongue. His eyes were half-lidded, his chest heaving, as adrenaline coursed through his body. Truthfully, he didn’t care where they went. He just needed to get out.

And so the group resumed their escape, careening through the labyrinthian halls of the Augustan Academy. One right turn, one left, another right, until they finally rounded the corner to the dormitories. Rubrum them fumbled with his keychain, lunging himself toward his door, and threw himself inside. His students followed in tow, slamming the thick oaken door behind themselves.

Rubrum then exhaustedly limped to his chair, plopped himself down onto it. Maestro sat opposite him at a small round table, while Fey and Asher sat on Rubrum’s bed. For a minute, they simply caught their breath, marinating in their mutual horror. A stray whine fell from Fey’s mouth as he buried his head in a blanket. Torches burned on the brick walls.

	Maestro stared down at his paws, still covered in Invi’s blood. It had begun to dry now, forming a thin crust over his claws. A few stray flecks stained his mask. Idly, he began to scratch the blood off, dropping dried crumbs onto the wooden floor. 

	“I’m so sorry,” Rubrum echoed. He shook his head as he broke the pregnant silence, a deep frown adorning his maw. “I put all you in danger.  And I’m… so, so sorry.” 

	“No,” Asher quietly replied. His hands laid balled on his crotch, his eyes unmoving from the floor. “Professor, this isn’t your fault. This… we all went of our own accord. And this is big. Way bigger than any of us anticipated. I… I…”

	Fey lifted his head from the blanket. With tears in his eyes, he asked: “A–are we gonna get in trouble? Are we gonna be expelled?” 

	Maestro shook his head. A fleck of blood fell onto his snout. “No,” he muttered. “No one is going to be expelled. I doubt that Invi is going to cry to the Board about tonight. Or else he’d get punished, too.” 

	The Sylveon whined anyways, his ribbons drooping. “I–I’m really scared,” Fey blathered. “What if they experiment on us? What if…” 

	Asher, however, was not paying attention to Fey’s bickering. “How long has all this been hidden?” Asher muttered, almost to himself. He then withdrew his notebook from his satchel, splayed open its insides. “Why would the Academy be built on top of a chimera testing ground? Professor, have you ever heard of this?” 

	“Of course not!” Rubrum bellowed. “I was told that this Academy was built one-and-a-half centuries ago on some empty land. And until tonight… I believed it.” He swallowed, frowned. “But it seems now that I was wrong. The Academy is older than any of us thought. And it… it seems like its purpose wasn’t always teaching.” 

	Silence then pervaded the room. Breakneck thoughts raced through the Pokémons’ heads as they attempted to discern what they’d seen: Pokémon-human hybrids, data logs, strange machinery. Not to mention the vicious Victini who patrolled it all… 

	Rubrum’s eye then caught on Asher’s notebook. The Cinderace studied it cautiously, his lips pursed as he stared at its pages. 

	“Asher, what do you think?” Rubrum asked. His finger tapped idly on the table. “You’re the one who recorded the information, after all.” 

	Asher hummed. He flipped from one page to the next, eyeing his own crude scribbles; he’d written the text in a hurry. 

	He said, “Well, we know one thing. The people who experimented on these… chimeras… were called the Children of the Aura.” 

	“Aura,” Maestro echoed, and frowned. “Like life energy? No, wait...” His eyes widened behind the mask. “Like Aurum. Aurum gears. That explains why Aurum gears were used to unlock everything in that place.” 

	“Yep,” Asher explained. He then flipped through the pages once more, landing on a messy rendition of the diagram they saw in the lab. “And it seems like these experiments were originally intended for military use… or, at least, that’s what they told the researchers there.” Asher frowned. “But it seems like all the experiments failed. The hybrids seemed… disobedient. Or deformed. Most of them, anyway.”

	Rubrum nodded, nursing a finger in his mouth. “That’s right,” he said, attempting to calm himself. “The logs on that blackboard… they said the experiments were failing.” 

	“But,” Asher continued, “they also said that the hybrids had… ‘other uses.’ Whatever that means. They didn’t specify.” He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe they thought hybrids would make better servants instead.” 

	Maestro smacked his lips, scratched at his face. “It’s not impossible,” he replied. “I couldn’t imagine what else they’d want out of Pokémon hybrids. Soldiers, servants… we can’t say for sure.”

	Fey hiccuped, stifling the urge to cry. He said: “Do you think th–they’re still experimenting on hybrids?” 

	Noticing Fey’s distress, Asher patted the boy on the back, pulled Fey close. He explained, “Fey… we don’t know. It seems like the Children of the Aura shut down this lab when the Academy was made. Probably when they couldn’t hide it anymore.” 

	“But who are the Children of the Aura?” Fey asked. Instinctively, he snuggled his flank against Asher’s side. “Who are we even fighting against?” 

	Maestro scoffed at the question. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, and motioned to the room. “Look at what we’re all wearing… the perpetrators have been under our noses this whole time.” 

	On cue, Rubrum then glanced downward at the Aurum gear he’d pulled from his pocket. He’d carried that gear since he was a pup; and yet, it somehow never lost its luster, nor had it suffered a scratch.

	“The Children of the Aura and the Board are connected… they might even be the same thing,” Maestro continued. “Those folks have always had an obsession with Aurum. And only they would have the resources to hide an underground lab in Augusta.” 

	“Not to mention how Invi brought up working for them,” Asher added. “There must be an ongoing effort to make sure no one knows about the old lab beneath the Academy. And whatever was happening there… well, it must’ve either been discontinued or moved.” 

	“M–moved?” Fey sputtered. “You think they still might be experimenting somewhere?” 

	Maestro nodded. “Maybe,” he muttered. “The lab reports mentioned that they didn’t get what they wanted. I’m willing to bet that they have another lab somewhere. Somewhere far away from the Academy, where a student would never discover it.” 

	And then, silence. The Pokémon remained absolutely terrified at the prospect of what else the Board was hiding. How many Pokémon had died beneath their feet, stuffed in dark cells? How many students had been silenced for trying to reveal the truth?

	“Look, whatever the case… we’re safe for now,” Rubrum breathed. “We need to just… calm down and recuperate. And more than that, we need to figure out what to do next.” He then glanced at Asher, held out a jug of water. “Asher, would you mind heating this? I could really use some tea, haha.” 

	“I second that,” Maestro blurted. “A bath and some tea would suit me nicely.” 

	Asher scoffed, sauntered to Rubrum’s side, and took the jug in his paws. “I can provide only one of those things,” he joked. “But yeah, I agree. Let’s just… think about this. Where do we go from here?” A pause. “Personally, I’d be fine dropping the whole thing. This situation is way bigger than we can handle.” 

	“I agree,” Rubrum said. His voice was dejected, fatigued. “If we keep digging, you all might be expelled. Or worse. And as your professor, I’m just… not willing to endanger any of you anymore.”

	Maestro scoffed at the suggestion. “Really?” he snapped. “The Board’s guard dog just raped us, and you’re going to let him get away with it?” 

	“They have an army,” Rubrum shot back. “We’re just four Pokémon who know more than we should. We’re weak. And if we stick our necks out again, they’re liable to be snapped.” He sighed. “We just need to go back to our daily lives while we still can. It’s the only way we can stay safe. Okay?” 

	Maestro’s eyes narrowed. “...No,” he snarled, tapping his claws on the table. “These people humiliated us. If that psycho had captured us, we’d have been his prisoners. Forever.”

	“But–”

	“No buts,” Maestro barked. “Remember Professor Calder's expedition? What happened to Brae and Aoki? That's what we would have turned into down there – except nobody would come for us like we did for them.”

He then let out a deep sigh and continued: “Listen, Rubrum. Invi almost killed us. Imagine how many prisoners he must have trapped down there – hell, imagine how many hybrids might still be out there, rotting in  prison cells.” He paused. “Don’t they deserve someone to fight for them?” 

	“Yeah,” Fey agreed. His chest fluttered with anxiety, his mind foggy with fear. But nevertheless, he chirped: “E–even if it means I’m banished, or captured, or worse… we can’t just leave them to die. I–it’s not right.” 

	Rubrum furrowed his brow, poured boiling water into a ceramic teapot. “Those Pokémon deserve saving, yes, but… we’re powerless. Someone else will have to do it.”

	“But who–”

“We’re done talking about this. As your professor, I forbid any of you from pursuing this any further. And that’s final.” Rubrum then paused, placed down the pot. “And I’m serious about this. If either of you got hurt, I don’t know what I would do.” His paws shook slightly at that last bit. He shot a begging glance at Maestro, then added: “Please, just… let it go.” 

Maestro, however, just shook his head. A fire burned in his chest as he replied: “I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

“Because we’re the only Pokémon in Augusta who know about this!” Maestro snapped. He slammed his fist down on the table, bellowed: “We are the only hope of getting the word out. The Pokémon in Augusta – no, everyone on the continent – they need to know what the Board has really been doing. Performing experiments on Pokémon, banishing them to the Intermediary Zones, jailing them for nothing… it’s fucking evil, Professor.” He scoffed. “Do you really expect me to just go along with this?” 

“You’re going to die if you keep digging deeper.”

“I’d rather die standing than live in fear,” Maestro barked. His ego flared behind those tough words. “This isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about an entire society of Pokémon being fed lies. And we have a chance to help them. I… I can’t not take that chance.” 

Maestro’s shoulders then drooped. He sat back down in his chair, stared at the boiling kettle. 

“All of you can do what you’d like… but I’m not letting this go. I can’t,” he said.  “I’m going to investigate the Board. Alone, if I need to. But none of you – and I mean none of you – are going to stop me.” A pause, and then: “I’m… sorry. But that’s my decision.” 

Uncomfortable silence then pervaded the room. No one knew what to say. Rubrum choked back tears; Fey whined. 

“Y–you’re right,” the Sylveon muttered. His ribbons shook with fear. “You’re right, Maestro. I… I’ll never be able to live with myself if I let this go.” 

	Asher then shot a glance at Fey, barked: “Don’t be stupid.” 

	“I’m sorry, Asher,” Fey muttered. “But I’m on Maestro’s side. We might not be able to save Augusta, but… we can try.” He gulped. “A–and if I die, or if I’m banished… then I can die knowing I tried.” 

	The Cinderace was awed by Fey’s determination, yet flabbergasted by his foolishness. He frowned, then begged: “Fey, please. If you keep going, you can’t turn back.” 

	Fey shook his head and replied: “I could never go back to how things were, anyways. Not after seeing all that stuff.” Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “Those test subjects… some of them are probably still out there. I can’t give up on them. They need us.”

	With pursed lips, Maestro’s gaze then glazed across the crowd. Rubrum traced his finger along the table’s grain, deep in thought. Asher and Fey remained quiet, refusing to make eye contact with anyone but each other.

	“I’m assuming I can’t stop either of you,” Rubrum muttered. 

	“No,” Maestro replied. “You can’t.”

 	Rubrum then sucked in air through his teeth, rapped his knuckles on the table. “Okay,” he said. His voice was defeated, fatigued. “Then… if you two really want this… and I mean really want it… I’ll stay by your side.” 

	“Really?” Maestro asked. His claws closed in around Rubrum’s paw. “You’ll… really help us investigate the Board?”

 	The Lucario flashed a toothy grin, quipped: “Well, I wouldn’t be much of a teacher if I let my students charge headfirst into danger.” He then wiped his bloodshot eyes, turned to Asher. “I don’t make this decision lightly, of course. And Asher… I won’t judge you if you choose to end things here. We’ve all been through enough.” 

	Stifled anger settled on Asher’s maw. He crumpled his fists, snapped: “Rubr – I mean, Professor. You’re really putting me on the spot here.” 

	Rubrum raised an eyebrow. “I know, but–” 

	“–Am I supposed to go along with this scheme just because everyone else is?” Asher barked. “I mean, seriously. Are you all that desperate to get killed? You said it yourself! We are working against a bona fide army. That’s what the Department of Defense is. A whole, well-trained, army.” 

Asher then sighed, looked around the room, only to be met with saddened stares. His stomach churned, and he cupped his head in his hands. “You’re my best friends. I… I couldn’t stand it if any of you got hurt. I’m begging you. Please, please, just… drop it.”

	Gently, Fey’s ribbons then slid along Asher’s back, rubbed along his shoulder blades. Faintly, Fey could feel heat building within Asher – the stoked embers of his frustration, met only by silence.

	Asher then inhaled sharply, said: “Fine. You know what I’ll do?” A cough. “If you manage to create a plan – a foolproof plan – I’ll consider helping you. A little. But we need to be smart about it. No more getting caught, no more stupid sex shenanigans. We need to plan every little detail. Okay?” 

	Maestro nodded, finger in his mouth. “I was already planning on it,” he said, and sighed. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, at least. Taking action against the Board is a huge risk. We can’t afford to take this lightly.” 

	Rubrum hummed in agreement, then asked: “That just leaves one question, then… what do we do?” His feet shuffled uncomfortably on the wooden tile. “Where do we even begin with all this?” 

	Maestro smacked his lips, lifted the tea kettle. With a slight tilt, the hot liquid tumbled into a fragile lavender tea cup. The Meowscarada said, “Well, we need more information about these chimera experiments. And we are not going back to that lab to get it, that’s for damn sure.” 

	“That’s right,” Asher chirped. “Even if I help you, I’m never setting foot in there again. Hell, I’m afraid to even go near the library again.” 

	Rubrum replied, “You won’t have to.” A sigh. The Lucario then followed Maestro’s lead, pouring himself a cup of tea. “The lab, and everything around it, is far too dangerous. We need hard proof of the Academy’s wrongdoings… but we can’t get it from there. We’ll have to search somewhere else.”

	“Like where?” Fey asked. His demeanor began to perk up once more, his tail subtly swishing. “Where else would they keep records of that stuff?” 

	Maestro blew on his teacup. He explained: “Well, there’s only one group of Pokémon who are guaranteed to know about this nasty business: the Board themselves.” 

	The Board. The words alone struck fear into Rubrum’s heart. Those Pokémon ruled over Augusta with an iron fist, after all, and had seen no shortage of controversy over the last century. Much ink had been spilled in their name, both singing their praises and degrading their utter chokehold over Augustan politics. Those who criticized them, however, had a habit of disappearing unexpectedly. Especially the loud ones. 

	Rubrum frowned. Although there technically existed seven Board members, most only remembered six: Maximus the Alakazam, Kane the Ghimmighoul, Iris the Ninetales, Colm the Kecleon, Cassius the Rhyperior, and Akiva the Gardevoir. Each held mighty esteem in their respective offices; in most cases, they held a little too much.

	Maestro gingerly took a sip of his tea. He continued: “Out of everyone on the Board, Maximus and Kane are likely to know the most about this sort of thing.” 

	Asher squinted his eyes. “What makes you so sure?” he asked. 

	“Well, Maximus is the head of the Board. So he has ultimate authority on everything,” Maestro explained. “It stands to reason that he’d have to deal with paperwork about… crazy chimera experiments.”

	Rubrum shrugged in response, swirled his teacup. “It’s as good of a guess as any,” he said. “But what about Kane? Why him?” 

	“Kane handles financial affairs,” Maestro explained. A smirk rose to his face as he added: “Let’s say they’re still doing experiments somewhere else. It must cost money. So… all we have to do is pilfer his records.” 

	Asher guffawed. “You make it sound easy!” he bellowed. “We just had one escapade, and you already want to go on another? Are you an adrenaline junkie now?” 

	“It’s not that,” Maestro explained. “We’re just… running out of time. Eventually, someone is going to notice we – I – beat Invi half to death… and even if Invi doesn’t snitch on us, they’re going to send out probes. And who would be the first person they suspect of foul play?” 

All eyes then landed on Asher. The rabbit sank into the bed. 

“Me,” Asher echoed. “I was on guard duty that night in the library.” He frowned. “Fuck. I didn’t even consider that. They’re going to investigate me.”  

“They are,” Maestro affirmed. “Which makes this matter even more urgent. We need to learn as much as we can before we’re scrutinized.” 

Rubrum’s eyes focused intensely on Maestro. He bit his lip, breathed heavily. While he admired Maestro’s gung-ho attitude, he was worried the boy was moving too quickly. Without his professor’s guidance, Maestro was bound to make a mistake.

The Lucario said, “Maestro, let’s slow down. Although we’re running on borrowed time, we need to plan this out methodically, remember?”

Maestro swallowed upon hearing his professor’s words. Only now did he notice that his eyes were wild, his shoulders hunched. Attempting to shake off the tension, Maestro gave a quick stretch and reclined in his chair. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Sorry. It’s been a long day, and… yeah.”

“It’s been long for all of us,” Rubrum snickered. “But, seriously… if we’re going to steal documents from the Board, we’ll need specifics. What time? And how?” 

Fey anxiously pattered his feet against the ground. He said, “Well, we should go at night.” 

“Obviously,” Asher said, and rolled his eyes. “But which night? We’ll need an alibi. Something which makes it so that we’ll never be suspected.” 

The Pokémon then quieted themselves, lost in thought. Rubrum rubbed the back of his head, blew through his teeth. He said, “Well, I have one idea. Maybe I could take us all on a… extracurricular trip.”

“Now?” Fey asked. “This seems like a bad time.” 

“Not a literal trip,” Rubrum explained. “That’s just what I’ll be telling the Board – that for a week starting tomorrow, us four will be spending some impromptu time in the woods studying a recent archaeological development. Namely the temple in which we found those Aurum tablets a few months ago.” 

Asher nodded. “Good idea,” he chirped. “That place is pretty hidden. The Board can’t check our alibi if they can’t even find the place.” 

“Exactly. But, of course, we won’t actually be leaving the city proper,” Rubrum explained. “There’s a hostel nearby. We’ll change our clothes, stay there for a week, and make our move. By the time we return from our imaginary trip, the Board will be none the wiser. This hostel will also keep anyone from interviewing Asher about tonight.” 

Maestro’s maw scrunched. “Wait, wait,” he muttered. “I don’t know about this. Won’t the Board think it’s suspicious that you’re leaving so suddenly, Professor?” 

Rubrum rolled his eyes, smirked. He said, “Maestro, I’ve done far more impulsive things without the Board’s approval. While this would definitely look suspicious on anyone else,  the Board expects this of me. Frankly, it would be more suspicious if I planned the trip in advance.” 

“I see,” Maestro replied, and hummed. “And I know the border guards don’t keep exit records. So… they would have no way to disprove our alibi. Providing we don’t get caught snooping, that is.”

“I also happen to know,” Rubrum continued, “the structure of the Board’s offices. I’ve been to a few meetings there, you see. And it just so happens that Maximus and Kane’s offices are next to each other.” 

Maestro gave a devilish grin. “Easy pickings. Their locks will be open in no time,” he said. “Now, Asher… do you know anything about how those offices are guarded?”

The Cinderace’s ears perked. He scratched nervously at his leg. “Actually, I do,” he said. “Since I guard the library at night, I have a schedule of the other guards’ shifts in the Academy.” He sighed, rubbed his temples. “If I remember correctly, there are two guards patrolling their office spaces at any given time… but we can check details later.” 

“Right,” Maestro mumbled. “And depending on their typing, a surprise Dark Pulse will do nicely. We can blind them, tie them up…” He smiled. “And once they’re incapacitated, we might actually be able to get away with this.” 

Rubrum squeezed Maestro’s paw. “Maybe, but… this will only work so long as we all work together,” he said. “One slip, Maestro, and we’re outlaws. Or worse – prisoners. We have to make sure we leave no record of ourselves behind. No fur, no sex, and no witnesses. That means I’ll also have to keep my aura in check – it’s probably how Invi detected us in the lab.”

Fey shivered. He chirped, “U–um, and if you need help restraining anyone, then I can use my ribbons! And I can light up dark spaces with my Moonlight.”  

“That will definitely prove useful,” Asher replied. He stared at the ground, trying to work out the plan in his mind. “A light source, a Dark Pulse to blind the guards, and someone to tie them up… that should work.” He then inhaled sharply, asked: “And what if we don’t learn anything? What if we’re searching in the wrong place?” 

“I… suppose that’s possible,” Maestro admitted. “No matter how well we plan, this might  all be for naught. And if we turn up blanks, we’d be drawing the Board’s attention for no reason.” He groaned. “If only we could be in two places at once. We could raid more offices or something.” 

Rubrum cleared his throat.  His tail smacked excitedly against the chair as he said: “Well, I do know some people who can help us. If you all would listen to them, that is.” 

	Asher narrowed his eyes, clearly disgusted by the suggestion. He asked, “Are you talking about Grimm and his little buddy?” 

	“Grimm and Sid, yes,” Rubrum explained. “Now, they did tell us where they’re camping out now – and it’s nearby. I could convince them to do some additional reconnaissance for us while we steal from the Board offices. They do hate the Board, after all.” 

	Maestro then waved his paw in the air, as if dismissing the possibility. “Professor, it’s only worth having more allies if they’re not loose ends,” he shot back. “What makes you think that these… kind-hearted Pokémon… are going to help us? What if they get caught? They could spoil it all.” 

	Rubrum smirked, replied: “It’s quite hard to catch a Pokémon if they’re possessing someone else.” 

	Fey shook at the suggestion. “Oh gosh, you want Grimm to possess someone?” he asked. “You mean, like, against their will? That’s kinda… icky.” 

	“Just temporarily,” Rubrum explained. “Long enough to attend a hearing with Chairwoman Iris on the latest course of legal affairs. They usually hold a private conference on upcoming bills every Tuesday night, so… let’s just have someone listen in anonymously. Someone who looks like they’re supposed to be there.” 

	The room marinated in that thought. It would be tricky finding someone whom Grimm could possess – it would have to be some sort of Augustan official. A friend of the Board, perhaps? And definitely someone entering the city alone, someone who blended in…

	“Look,” Rubrum continued, “I’ll talk to Sid and Grimm about it. So it’s not definite, but… wouldn’t it be interesting to know just what Iris is planning behind-the-scenes? To see the room where all the laws are made?” His tail wagged. “These hearings are seldom heard by the public, so… this could be unprecedented.”  

	Maestro adjusted his mask, replied: “Well, I am quite curious. And it could yield useful information. But… can we trust those two?” 

	“Yes,” Rubrum replied. “Truthfully? I’ve never seen two Pokémon hate the Academy more.  They’d rather die than give us away, even if they are caught.” He cleaned his glasses. “And just between you and I… it is very, very difficult to contain a Ghost type like Grimm. Even with a type advantage. You should know.” 

	Maestro shuddered at the memory of his experience with the Gengar. Being at Grimm's mercy was completely overwhelming. Intoxicating.

	“I agree with the Professor,” Asher piped up. “I can’t lay a finger on Ghost types most of the time. Most common moves don’t even work on them.”

	Rubrum nodded. “Exactly. Most Pokémon in the Academy only have mastery over simple Normal type moves… which means Grimm would be the most ideal candidate.” He sighed. “Of course, I’ll have to hammer out the details with them tomorrow. But when they come onboard… we’ll have two break-ins occurring simultaneously.” A smirk. “And… theoretically… both will be untraceable to us.” 

	Maestro mustered an anxious grin. The last of Invi’s blood flaked from his mask. “This all sounds doable,” he said. “Vaguely, anyhow. I’m unsure on a few points… and we’ll need a map to plan our movements.” 

	“Of course,” Rubrum replied, and yawned. “Here’s what I propose: let’s meet up tomorrow morning and decide the finer details. I’ll find Grimm tonight and talk to him, and I’ll have a map ready by tomorrow.” Another yawn. “In the meantime, you all get some well-deserved rest. We should be safe for tonight, after all. I doubt the Board will check on Invi within the next twenty-four hours.” 

	Maestro tilted his head. He said, “You seem pretty tired yourself, professor. Maybe you should get some sleep, too.” 

	“No, no.” Rubrum let out an exhausted chuckle. “There’s far too much to do.” He smiled, then added: “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since my student days. So it’ll be nostalgic for me. Don’t worry.”

Maestro then scrunched his maw, gripped Rubrum’s paw, and said: “Okay. But, in case you need me… I’ll only be a couple doors away. Same with the rest. Alright?”  

	“Of course,” Rubrum chirped. He then stood, sipped the last of his teacup. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Gengar to track down. Meet me back here at nine in the morning. That good for all of you?” 

	The students then nodded, grunted in approval. Asher and Fey stood from the bed, dusted off their bottoms.

	“I need to take a shower,” Asher mumbled. “I got cobwebs stuck between my ears.” 

	Fey flirted, “M–maybe we can take a shower together, then.” And the two shared a much-needed chuckle.

	As Fey and Asher bickered, Maestro took Rubrum’s palms in his own. They shared a tender gaze there, holding each other close. Deep bags under their eyes betrayed their mutual fatigue. 

	“Arceus… this is terrifying,” Maestro admitted. “It’s something I need to go through with, and I’m ready for it… but I’m fucking scared, professor. And I… I’m sorry that I’m roping you into this.” 

	Rubrum caressed Maestro’s arm, replied: “It’s… okay. No matter what, Maestro, I’ll always be here for you.” 

	Maestro looked askance. “Now and forever?”

	The Lucario then gently pressed a finger under Maestro’s chin, tilted his head upward. “Now and forever,” he said. “And I mean that.” 

	Maestro shivered at the sentiment. He then lunged forward, pulled Rubrum close, and caught him with a kiss. The glare of a nearby torch set Rubrum’s eyes aglow; frankly, Maestro had never had so much to lose.

	“I love you,” Maestro said. “So much.” 

	Rubrum grinned. “I love you, too.” 

	“I always forget how scratchy fur is,” Grimm blathered. His lavender-fluffed hind leg scratched at his ear, which then flopped unceremoniously onto his face. In a hushed voice, he added: “How do mammalian Pokémon function like this?” 

	Sid rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to know?” he snapped, and looked around. “Now stop fidgeting. You’re going to draw attention.”

	And so the pair stood still, trying their best to remain nondescript. Just as Rubrum had promised the night prior, he had visited Grimm and Sid in the woods; and just as predicted, the two jumped at the opportunity to infiltrate the Board. 

	Now, as for actionizing that opportunity… the pair were less adept. There existed only one suitable target who could gain access to Chairwoman Iris’s private hearing: a lawman-in-training named Simon. The unsuspecting Espeon had been traveling from Caligen in the East for his first tour of the Academy; and as he bounded alone through the woods, Grimm had snuck up from behind. The boy’s puny psyche yielded thereafter, falling into a deep slumber as his body continued onward. 

	“I’m glad we managed to find a Psychic type,” Grimm whispered. “These folks think they’re so high and mighty… until they meet their match, that is.” 

	Sid smiled. “I know, right? It must be why they hate Dark types here.” He picked at the leaves on his tail. “Psychic types like Chairman Maximus… they want to be the only powerful ones in the room.” 

	“Fucking pathetic,” Grimm spat, then contained himself. “Hey… did you leave the paperwork in the same spot?” 

	“Left duffel pocket.” 

	“Good, good.” Grimm sucked in air through his teeth, anxiously pattered his paws on the ground. Three Pokémon stood ahead of him in-line, each slowly vetted by the Augustan border force. In order to enter Augusta, Grimm and Sid would need to somehow pass the guards. 

	Sid frowned. “You sure our story will work?” he asked. “I don’t know how happy these guards will be to see me. Without papers, I’ll just be another feral Pokémon.”

	Grimm smacked his lips, twitched his newly forked tail. “Don’t worry,” he said, and stepped forward in-line. “I have a plan. Just go along with it, okay?” 

	The Snivy shot a frustrated glance at Grimm. “Oh, you actually have a plan now?” he sniped. “We really need to talk about these things first.”

	The Espeon’s eyes shifted warily to the front of the line. His paws moved forward once more. He said, “Fine, fine… but it’s a little too late now.” 

	A long shadow then eclipsed the waiting Pokémons’ faces as they approached the gargantuan gate. At the gate’s sides stood two Heracross, their plated exteriors glistening with morning dew. Stern expressions adorned their faces; they’d obviously been standing guard for quite some time. 

	Grimm approached the pair with a nervous smile, his tail perking at the sight. In his mind, thoughts raced: How would a Board official act? 

	“Name?” one Heracross asked. The other stood eerily still against the brick, fanning his face with a huge blue claw. 

	“Simon Birdie,” Grimm replied. “Lawman-in-training, Caligen unit. Coming here to attend a private meeting.”

	Grimm then maneuvered his tail, grasped a bundle of papers from within his duffel pocket, and handed them to the Heracross. Briefly, the guard glazed his eyes over the pages. He nodded as he turned from one page to the next, seemingly satisfied. 

	“Mmm… well, your papers are all well and good,” the Heracross said, then pointed toward Sid. “Now… are you traveling with that squirt there?” 

	The Snivy gritted his teeth, struggling to contain his anger. “Yes,” he replied. “I’m trav–” 

	“Hold on,” Grimm interrupted, placing his tail gently around Sid’s shoulder. “I’ll handle this.” He then turned toward the Heracross, gave a wide grin, and explained: “This is my guard, Throckmorton. He will be accompanying me into the city.” 

	The Heracross frowned, replied: “He’s not on the papers.” 

	“Oh, I know,” Grimm explained, his voice playful. “But you see, he’s a recent recruit into the ranks in Caligen. His paperwork hasn’t even been processed,” he chirped. “But truthfully, the boy has done such a good job. Especially for a Pokémon from the Intermediary Zone.” 

	Sid nearly recoiled at the statement. Dammit, Grimm, he thought. Did you really have to insult me to get in? And what on Earth is a “Throckmorton?”

	The Heracross shook his head in response. “Can’t let him in,” he mumbled. “No papers, no entry. Doesn’t matter who he is. Sorry.” 

	“Truly?” Grimm asked. “I can guarantee you, he is extremely well-behaved.” 

	“Doesn’t matter. I’m under strict orders.” The Heracross rubbed the back of his head. “Board’s been cracking down. Not my decision, sorry.” 

	Grimm’s nose scrunched. A mischievous smile then rose to his maw as he asked, “Is that right?”

	“Yes, that’s right.” 

	“Well… then I suppose you’d be okay describing your decision to Chairwoman Iris, correct?” Grimm asked. “Because that is where I’m going, in case you didn’t read my papers.” 

	The Heracross furrowed his brow, checked over the papers in his claws. “Ah,” he said, his voice low. “Chairwoman Iris.” 

	Grimm chuckled. “Yes, Chairwoman Iris. Now, I don’t know if you know her, but she and I have undergone some private correspondence… and she is quite the firecracker when you get to know her.” A sigh. “Again, I emphasize that I have an important meeting tonight which both of us must be present for. And really, I’d hate to see what she’d do to a lowly guard like you, haha. Just kidding.”

The Heracross, of course, picked up that the Espeon was not kidding. He said, “Where did you say you were from, again?” 

“Caligen.” 

“Oh, Caligen,” the Heracross said, and narrowed his eyes. “How’s Tvarney’s pub nowadays?” 

Grimm stared unblinkingly into the Heracross’s eyes. He could sense it there – some kind of malice. Somehow, this guard had caught onto their ruse. It was obviously not this Guard’s first time being threatened.

Quietly, Grimm wracked his brain for information on Caligen. One seconds, two, he waited, but kept drawing blanks. His lips sputtered as he began to panic. 

And then, before Grimm could open his mouth, Sid tapped his flank. The Snivy said: “Tvarney’s Pub closed down a decade ago, sir. But I think you know that.” 

The Heracross stood tall, frowned. “I was just seeing if you knew.” 

“Yes, well, we do,” Sid explained. “And if you don’t mind, we’d like to pass. My employer is quite hungry – we didn’t pack adequate provisions. And we’d like to eat before the meeting this evening.” 

The two Pokémon then stood in a silent stand-off. The burly Heracross stared downward at the puny Snivy, neither daring look away. Five seconds, ten, and then: 

“Fine,” the Heracross said. “But don’t cause trouble.” 

Grimm snarled. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Now, come on, Throckmorton. We simply must sample some Augustan cuisine. I’m thinking about trying some fried Pecha berries…” 

	
	“Are you serious? Throckmorton?” Sid barked. “You gave me the ugliest name back there!” 

	Grimm smacked his lips, enjoying the last few bites of his fried Pecha berry. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” he teased. “You should be grateful I even got you through customs.” 

	“More like I got you through,” Sid mumbled, then huffed. “Alright, whatever. The meeting’s soon, isn’t it?” 

	“Five minutes,” Grimm replied. He stood from the courthouse’s stair, brushed the Pecha juices from his mouth. “I should probably take my seat. I don’t wanna miss a bit of this.” 

	Sid asked, “You ever personally spoke to Chairwoman Iris?” 

	“Nope.” 

	“Rumor is she’s all business,” Sid chirped. “Now, I’ll watch the entrance for anything suspicious. Just… don’t get caught in there, alright? Or she’d probably order your capital punishment herself.” 

	Grimm waved his paw, revealing a toothy grin. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll stay completely silent. And if anything seems risky, I’ll leave. Don’t worry.” 

	The two then shared a quick peck and parted ways. Sid sat cloaked once more on the cold court steps, staring quietly out onto the pockmarked cobble streets.

Grimm, however, could not afford to sit still. Clad in his newfound magenta fur, he bounded up the court steps and into the marble monolith. A guard quickly checked the boy’s credentials, then ushered him past the grand mahogany doors without question. 

	This is too easy, Grimm thought. 

However, Grimm remained unprepared for the grandeur of the Augustan Courthouse. The space was wide, tall, and smelled like aged paper. Hundreds of wooden seats dotted the room’s periphery, all surrounding a central podium, all full with Pokémon. And in the center, just as Grimm expected, sat Councilwoman Iris. As if she were a saint, the Ninetails’s presence was stifling, sacred. Even her advisors gave her a wide berth, not daring come within a few feet of the podium. With a bent wrist, her paw slid softly along a dense pile of papers.

	Grimm gulped. Arceus, he was not used to being around so many Pokémon… let alone politicians of such rapport. He did not want to draw Iris’s attention. Or anyone’s, for that matter.

	And just as Grimm entered, as if sending up a signal flare, Iris shot an Ember toward the roof. Grimm watched with bated breath as the unexpected fireball plunged toward the center of the ceiling, careening into a large bronze plate and setting it aglow. Like blood through veins, the flame then traveled through several tubes and crept downward across the walls. Just as the pulses reached their apex, the room’s torches were then set supremely alight. They roared against the marble walls, letting loose a loud crackle, and then died down.

	Grimm was mortified by the display. He shrunk in his seat, scared to be singed, as the crowd rose around him in applause. 

	So this is how lawmaking sessions begin in Augusta, he thought. I hate it. So grandiose…

	“Attention, attention,” Iris called. Her voice was smooth, low, near-hypnotizing. “Today we’re here for a rather short meeting. We only have a few key matters to discuss, so I humbly request your full attention.” 

	Iris then flipped over a page, gazed at the audience, and cleared her throat. “Let us begin our opening remarks. To start things off, I am ecstatic to announce the construction of our first Reformation Center in Ceres Square.” She glanced around at the crowd, making eye contact with each attendant. “This project has been spearheaded by myself and Mr. Cassius, Chairman of Defense. And while we have thus far enjoyed the green space in Augusta, we must now turn our attention to new pastures.” She narrowed her eyes. “As you all know, crime is rising in Augusta. Violent crime… not to mention petty theft. These actions must have consequences.”  

	Grimm raised an eyebrow. Ceres Square… he had played there often as a child. Whether during the day or night, its trees and fields were always chock-full of Pokémon. They battled, played, and ate together there; most younger Pokémon spent their days in the square’s tall grass, playing in the sun.

	“We have no choice,” Iris continued, “than to use this space for the betterment of the community. We now open the matter to preliminary remarks.” 

	A Pokémon then stood in the second row, raising his hand to the heavens – a Lopunny. “Excuse me… I am January, from Public Works,” he announced. “I’d like to ask about fund reallocation.” 

	“Go ahead.” 

	“Well…” January kicked his feet. Obviously, the boy was nervous to be in the presence of a Board chair. “The Public Works sector is underfunded as-is. Our roads are falling into disrepair… and indoor plumbing has been put on hiatus in the city outskirts for eight weeks. Are the funds for this… reformation center… going to be pulled from Public Works, too?” 

	Iris nodded, gave a canned sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately, yes,” she conceded. “This is going to be a hard time for all of us. But we must remember… if crime is allowed to run rampant, then we will have no infrastructure to invest in. As a city, our safety must come first. Surely you all must agree with that?” 

	The Lopunny frowned, obviously preparing a retort, but didn’t receive the chance to speak. Stray applause broke out from the front row – the Augustan Congress – and spread throughout the room like a wildfire. 

	“This is not just about us, either,” Iris boomed over the crowd. “It is about our children. Our children’s children. We must leave behind a cleaner world… a purer world.” Her voice raised, soared over the crowd. “Those monsters from the Intermediary Zone have jeopardized our border for years. If they want to come into our city, steal our belongings… then let’s make an example of them.” She gave a calm smile. “Even the most rowdy beast can be tamed… I’ll make sure of it.” 

	Grimm was terrified by the councilwoman’s words. Moreover, he was shocked by the courtroom’s reaction – utter delight, near-religious fervor. To his right, a Furfrou stood tall, cheering at Iris’s words. His eyes remained utterly transfixed on her, his tail wagging happily. 

	A shiver traveled down Grimm’s spine. Nausea welled within his throat. Suddenly, he wished that he had never come here. 

	Grimm had only seen Iris once before: Seven years ago, she had signed the arrest warrant for both Grimm and Sid. The two underperformed academically; both had been caught cheating at one point or another. There came a day, however, that Iris deemed their mere presence unsavory. One morning, Grimm and Sid suddenly found themselves trapped beyond Augusta’s outer walls. There was no trial. 

	Until that point, Grimm never imagined that he would be the subject of a banishment. As a student of the Academy, he thought himself exempt. Feral Pokémon were lesser, unpredictable, uncooperative… that’s what he was taught. 

	Those same sentiments made him sick now. A hundred Pokémon surrounded him like a sea, threatening to drown him. It took all his effort just to sit still, to keep from running away. No, no. He needed to see this meeting through. If not for himself, then for Pokémon like him.

	“This Reformation Center will serve the community as a deterrent,” Iris explained, and the applause died down around her. “Our previous systems of punishment and rehabilitation have failed. The same problems remain. There is only one solution… the assimilation and containment of all criminal activity. The Board will provide that for all of you… for us.” 

	A prison. They’re building a prison in Ceres Square. And, judging by how she’s talking about it, it’s going to be a big one. Somehow, Grimm was willing to bet that the Intermediary Areas were getting a little too full. 

	Iris continued, “We will entertain further talk about this subject during the designated discussion period. For now, we will continue with opening remarks.” A quick glance downward at her podium, and then: “Now, we have received a missive from an anonymous sponsor. He wishes for me to propose a bill on his behalf. Please save all questions and comments for the designated time…” 

	The Ninetales then revealed a packet from her satchel, laid it on the podium. Hidden within that thick bundle of papers laid a plethora of legalese, painstakingly written. Iris seemed to eye the paper with disdain. 

	“The overview of this bill is thus: the enshrinement and protection of all Arceus-related religious paraphernalia and customs by law…”

	Once again, Grimm was caught by surprise. Arceus? As in… the Alpha Pokémon?

	“Certain religious constituents have proposed extra protections for Arcean groups… this includes imposing fines for improper utterances of the name Arceus, and mandatory prayer in primary schooling.” 

	The raucous applause which once filled the walls was thus replaced by anxious whispers. Iris, too, seemed nonplussed by the bill. 

	To Grimm, however, this legislation seemed… strange. Desperately, he wracked his brain for any point of reference – but in the last seven years, he’d yet to encounter anyone who worshiped Arceus. The originator neither demanded nor required such things as far as anyone knew. Perhaps Arceus’s following had grown in the past few years.

	Iris, of course, noticed the immediate tension in the room. With a cursory glance, she seemed to shove the bundle aside, and spoke: “This is our second and final order of business. I am aware that many of you have feelings about this proposed legislation, and we will provide ample space and time to air them.” 

	Grimm was dumbfounded. For just a moment, the room fell quiet. Iris gathered the necessary materials on her podium. Grimm leaned aside to the Furfrou and asked: 

	“Do you know anything about this bill?” 

	The Furfrou shook his head and replied: “This bill? No, this is new.” A pause. “But those Arceans are fierce, I know that. There were a few preaching in the market recently.” 

	“Really?” Grimm asked. 

	“Yes,” the Furfrou replied matter-of-factly. “Surely you’ve seen them. They’re quite loud.” 

	Grimm recoiled, whipped his tail. “Wh–why, of course I have. Just so busy lately, haha.” He then turned his attention once more to Chairwoman Iris; just as before, she sat at the podium, her posture perfectly erect. 

	“Now… we open up the floor to comments and questions as to the Augustan Reformation Center,” Iris announced. “We will begin with congress’s arguments. Willamina, would you like to speak first?” 

	In the front row, a mighty Scolipede then arched her huge neck forward. Like a tentacle, it swayed unsteadily before Iris’s steadfast gaze. 

	“Yes, I would. I’d just like to say… Chairwoman Iris couldn’t have phrased the purpose of this bill better.” A huff. “And for those of you who are dubious of the Reformation Center’s construction, I urge you to look at today’s headline: Four innocent Augustan citizens were killed on the road from Caligen. Just this morning, in cold blood.” 

	What?

	“That’s right,” Iris said. Her voice was solemn. “Border patrols found a trading caravan from Caligen ransacked this morning at the crack of dawn. No doubt the work of feral Pokémon, those who make their home in the Intermediary Areas. Outlaws and criminals.” 

	The Scolipede arched her back, croaked into the open air: “And who’s to say who is next? These monsters could attack any one of us! Especially with our borders being so flimsy.” 

	No, Grimm thought. No, this doesn’t make any sense. That same morning, Grimm had traveled the entire length of Caligen trail. Not once did he see anything out of the ordinary. And if something like this had happened, he definitely would’ve heard about it at the gates.

	“There is a reason that these Pokémon have been banished from Augusta proper,” Iris announced. “They are unruly, and dangerous… and our Reformation Center is only the first step.” 

	“That’s right,” the Scolipede interrupted. “Our borders must be secured. At the moment, they are utterly overwhelmed with the lawless trying to gain entry. And those feral Pokémon who do somehow get in…” She coughed. “They are parasites. Leeching off our resources, our land, killing our Pokémon.” Her voice became phrenetic, erratic. “I warn all of you now – if you meet a Pokémon who does not own the appropriate citizenship papers, do not hesitate to alert the Augustan police. You could be saving a life.” 

	The words struck Grimm’s gut like a knife. Acid welled in his stomach – he couldn’t stand it anymore. Mission be damned, he needed to leave.

	And so Grimm stood, silently working his way past the crowd and toward the towering mahogany doors. In the back of his mind, he feared being called upon on his way out; but the accusation never came. Like the ghost he was, he disappeared beyond the doors and into the city more. The guards outside paid him no mind.

	A cold breeze invigorated Grimm’s lungs. Having escaped Iris’s stare, he bolted clumsily down the court steps, descending into a cobble-laid plaza. A few scattered Pokémon chatted on its periphery; Grimm ignored them. Instead, he ran out into the wide street, frantically looking around in the evening twilight. 

	There – a block away, in front of a nearby bakery – sat Sid, reclining nonchalantly in a wire-frame chair. A buttered croissant hung lazily from his lips as he picked at his tail. 

	Without hesitation, Grimm bounded toward him. Noticing Grimm in his periphery, Sid perked, pulled a tight-lipped frown.

	“Grimm?” he asked. “What the hell? You were barely in there fifteen minutes.” 

	The Espeon panted, then slowed to a stop under the bakery’s red-and-white awning. “I–I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… oh my…” 

“Hey, hey,” Sid said. He glided his little hand along Grimm’s neck, allowing Grimm to rest his head in his lap. “What happened in there? Do we need to run?” 

Grimm shook his head. “N–no,” he said. “But I… you wouldn’t believe what they were talking about in there.”

Sid raised an eyebrow. “Well? What is it?” 

“They’re building a fucking prison in Ceres Square,” Grimm said. Like a waterfall, words spilled loosely from his mouth.  “But they’re calling it a Reformation Center, and… Sid, I barely recognize this place. Everything is so different now.” Grimm looked at the nearby buildings, then glanced back at the courthouse. “What happened here?” 

Sid sighed. He’d noticed it, too; Augusta looked quite different than before his banishment. Paint chipped from the storefronts in thick flakes and littered the gutters. Posters, flags, and banners now adorned the streets, stuck haphazardly onto store windows. Emblazoned on each was the signature smug grin of Chairman Maximus; below him were printed the words, “For the Empowerment of Pokémon.” 

“This place is dirtier than when we were students. And the streets are empty now at night.” Grimm frowned. “This square used to be packed, any time of day. Kids used to play here. Do you remember?” 

Sid nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” He then sighed, added: “I guess they’ve been getting rid of public spaces.” 

“And that’s not all,” Grimm blustered. His eyes were wide, his voice panicked. “They were talking about Pokémon outside the walls like… well, like we weren’t even Pokémon. They called us monsters and criminals.”

“What?” 

Grimm shook. “Arceus, they fucking hate us, baby. And Iris was terrifying, she… she said that she wanted to lock us all up. O–or kill us or something. She said we’re dangerous.” 

“Dangerous? They’re the fucking dangerous ones.” Sid pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’re throwing Pokémon into the Intermediary Zones all the time. And then they turn around and say that we’re dangerous? We’re only there because of them!” 

	Grimm gulped. A slow inhale in, and then out, as he attempted to regain his composure. “We can’t stay here,” he muttered. “We need to get back to the hostel. I have too much energy to stand still.” 

	“Alright,” Sid said. He haphazardly shoved the remainder of his croissant down his gullet and stood from the chair. The two then set off, traversing the eerie side streets of the capital. Distant chattering filled the streets as they walked under rows of closed windows, chattering about Grimm’s findings.

	“...And they’re gonna put homeless Pokémon in prison. Same with any outside Pokémon,” Grimm explained. “I had no clue they had such big plans. They say it’s to make sure everyone’s safe, but… I think it’s really because they hate us. They hate outsiders. They hate Dark types. The only Pokémon they care about are themselves.”

“Arceus,” Sid breathed. “That’s terrifying. Rubrum is going to want to hear about this when we get back to the hostel.” 

Grimm hummed. “I know.  And that’s not all they talked about, either.” 

“Hm? What else, then?” 

In a hushed tone, Grimm explained: “They talked about some bill in there from an… anonymous Pokémon? They wouldn’t say who proposed it.” 

“Okay?” 

“And, uh… the bill was about Arceus. Like, mentioning Arceus, and… mandating prayer to Arceus in schools? Iris didn’t seem to like it.” A pause. “I don’t think anyone else did, either.” 

“That’s… weird,” Sid huffed. “How could they even propose a law like that with no support?” 

Grimm shrugged. “Whoever made the bill didn’t want to be identified. But… it must be someone special. You know, someone with money.” 

For a moment, Grimm and Sid wracked their brains for ideas. Despite their efforts, however, they turned up blanks. The pair had been absent from the city for no more than seven years, and yet whatever cultural zeitgeist they had walked into was completely foreign to them.

“We’ll find out eventually,” Sid said. “There has to be some politician with ties to Arceanism. Someone who doesn’t want to be named. Maybe someone else on the Board?” 

The two thought about it in silence. Their paws slapped against the stone. A breeze ruffled Grimm’s hair. In the distance, a sparkling light betrayed the entrance to their hostel. 

“I had no clue Augustan politics had gotten so bad,” Grimm said. “Everyone in that room was so scared. They even made up some lie about outside Pokémon killing some traders on the road back from Caligen.” 

Sid narrowed his eyes. “That’s impossible,” he said. “We were on that road all day. Nothing happened.” 

“But the people here don’t know that. They hardly leave the city walls for fear of being attacked. Hell, they don’t even go out after dark,” Grimm explained. “Fuck, everything is just worse now. I don’t even know if this place can be saved.”

Sid petted Grimm’s back. “Don’t say that,” he said. “This investigation is gonna help a lot of people. When Rubrum and the rest come back, we might have enough to write an exposé. Yaknow, blow this all wide open.” 

“I guess,” Grimm pouted. “It’s just, like… what if we reveal all of this to everyone, and no one is surprised? What if no one cares? What if nothing changes?”

“We care,” Sid replied. His monotone voice betrayed his uncertainty. “And right now, that needs to be enough.”

	Meanwhile, Rubrum and his students gradually trudged through the dark maze of Augustan alleys. Grime caked the walls, ran down the red-brown bricks, and drizzled into pools of muck under the Pokémons’ feet. 

	“I wish I brought boots,” Asher muttered. “Also, did we really have to take the back alleys? No one’s on the streets now anyway.” 

	Rubrum chuckled. He brushed dirt from his cheek and replied: “Asher, four Pokémon in cloaks is quite conspicuous, no matter what time of day.” 

	“Yeah, we look like a funeral procession,” Fey joked. A faint ball Moonlight illuminated his path with a pinkish-white hue. “Are we sure this is the way to the offices? I don’t think anyone comes through here.” 

	Maestro scoffed. “We’re using this route because no one comes here,” he explained. “Now, there should be a side entrance to the offices in this alley. Somewhere on our right… no, our left.” 

	“Maestro, are you sure you’ll be able to lockpick it?” Asher whispered. “I don’t know anything about locks, but… I’m sure the Board has invested in some good ones.” 

	In a flash, Maestro had brandished his lockpicking set – a worthy addition to his repertoire of tricks. That white light just barely glinted off of them in the dark, complimented by the feline’s toothy smile. Maestro bragged, “In the face of my pick, any lock is cheap.”

“Let’s hope,” Rubrum breathed, stepping carefully over a fetid pool in the cement. “Now, just so we all remember… we will actually be entering the place from an old fire exit. There should be no alarm, but… as always, keep your wits about you. We need to be able to flee at a moment’s notice.” 

The group then progressed in silence, carefully, methodically, until Rubrum stopped before a plain metallic door. “Here it is,” he said, and motioned toward it. “Now’s your time to shine, dear.” 

Maestro smiled, stepped in front of the door, and gave it a once-over. It was barren, gargantuan, and unadorned. Only a simple pull-handle burgeoned from the door’s midsection, below which laid a nondescript keyhole. 

He asked, “Fey… mind moving the Moonblast a little lower? I need to get a good look.” 

The Sylveon nodded, lowered the glowing orb downward. He then positioned himself backward, keeping watch on the dark alley as Maestro fiddled behind him. 

Maestro hummed, his fingers working steadily at the primitive lock. Frankly, he’d expected a little more of a challenge. The lock itself was outdated – nearly five years old, and amateurish. It seemed that the Board had skimped on their security. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the thought.

He then huffed, released the mechanism with a click. “Alright, it’s open,” Maestro announced. 

“Already?” Rubrum asked. “That took only a few seconds.” 

“The lock isn’t particularly well-made,” Maestro explained. “I guess the Board doesn’t replace their locks very often.” 

Asher waved his paw, still staring into the damp inky blackness. “It’s more likely that this entrance has been near-forgotten. There hasn’t been an emergency in this building in a long time.” He then cleared his throat, added: “Okay, now that it’s open… let’s talk about our plan.” 

“But we’ve talked about it so much,” Fey whined. “Do we have to?” 

Asher petted his head, replied: “Of course we do. Remember, one mistake and we’re toast. So we need to be smart. Super smart.” He then paused, pointed at Fey. “Fey, your job is to keep our light source handy. Remember to snuff it if we hear any company.” 

Fey nodded. “Mhm. You can count on me,” he chirped. 

The Cinderace then turned to Maestro. “Maestro… remember to have your Dark Pulses at the ready. You’ll be our first response to all threats. And, for the love of Arceus, make sure to shoot them before they see us. Blindness won’t matter if they know who we are.” 

Maestro scoffed. “As if I’d do such a sloppy job,” he quipped. “But yes, of course.” 

“And Rubrum,” Asher continued, “Your job is to Detect any Pokémon nearby. If you sense any unexpected presence, let us know. And if needed, you can Cross Chop anyone who fights back. Just… whatever you do, do not use Aura Sphere. Every Psychic type in a mile radius will feel it.” 

The Lucario laughed at the implication. “Yes, well, I can’t help if my aura is so bombastic… but I’ll keep it under wraps. For you, of course.”

“Good.” Asher then huffed, closed his eyes. “Alright, so… it’s midnight. That means guards have just taken up their new stations. They’ll probably just be sitting around, which means they’ll be easier to ambush. But do not underestimate them. These are some of the most highly trained guards in Augusta. The only way we win is if we take them by surprise. Is that clear?” 

The rest nodded. Maestro then rested his paw on the cold metal handle, slowly curled his fingers around its curve. 

“Here goes everything,” Maestro muttered, and pulled the door outward. Much to his chagrin, the door’s hinges were rusted, sliding against themselves with a metallic screech. However, only a quiet darkness awaited them on the other side of the door. Slowly, the four then crept inside, closing and locking the door behind them. 

The resultant hallway was pitch-black, constructed floor-to-ceiling from drab concrete. Posters haphazardly adorned the walls, each extolling the virtues of the Board. It seems they’d been affixed to the walls in a hurry; some fluttered half-free from the cement, others hanging from the ceiling like tattered flags. 

For a moment, the group silently paused in awe. Maestro studied the first poster he saw – a battered paper with Maximus’s visage. The Alakazam’s eyes were half-lidded, his hands raised, as spoons levitated and bent like a halo around his head. A bolded caption read: “A RETURN TO TRADITIONAL VALUES.” 

“New posters,” Maestro breathed. His claw crept along the contours of Chairman Maximus’s face. “I’ve seen a couple in the market, but… it seems someone went a little crazy in here.” 

Asher’s maw wrinkled. He passed by a row of posters, his focus shifting from one to the next. On one, Chairman Cassius upheld a boulder, biceps bulging. On another, Chairman Kane pointed toward the viewer, mounds of gold coins stacked behind. 

“I wonder how many people actually believe this shit,” Maestro echoed. He frowned. “Now that we know what they’re doing, it just seems… disgusting.” A pause, and then: “I can’t believe I used to think these people were benevolent. I can’t believe we let things get so bad.” 

Rubrum placed a paw on Maestro’s shoulder. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t quite find the words. He just said: “I don’t think it was ever good, Maestro.” 

“Probably not,” Maestro replied, and sighed. “Okay. We can’t stay here. Asher, which way do we go?” 

The Cinderace glanced left, then right. Both directions remained unlit, quiet. He said, “We need to go left. Follow my lead and stay quiet.” 

	And so the group snaked along the wall, nearly hugging it, as they trekked along the seemingly endless hallway. With every soft footfall, Rubrum’s heart raced. Desperately, he attempted to keep his aura in check. Even if he could not feel anyone in the vicinity, the prospect of being caught made him panic. His fists remained continuously clenched, his breaths shallow. 

The group continued for a minute, then a minute more, until they reached a turn in the hallway. A faint red light shone there – a sole flame, ensconced aside a dull brown door just beyond the turn. 

“This is… technically a basement, right?” Fey whispered. 

Asher nodded. “Yep. The city hall is built into a hill, so even though we entered near the street, we still need to go up a few floors to get to the good stuff,” he whispered. And then, trepidatiously, he slid open the wooden door. 

“These stairwells shouldn’t be guarded,” he explained. “But be careful. Any sound can draw the guards from the lower floors. We move quickly, and we move silently.” A deep breath. “Let’s go.” 

And thus the Pokémon swiftly danced up the cold concrete stairs, attempting to stifle their footfalls, their frantic breaths. Fey nearly slipped a couple times as he bounded up the stairs, just barely saving himself from careening against the stone. Three flights, four, five, until they finally stopped on the final landing. 

“This is it,” Asher whispered. His voice was breathless. “This is the administrative floor. Maximus and Kane’s offices are at the other end of this building.”

Maestro gasped for air, asked: “How long do we have?” 

“One hour. Maybe less,” Asher replied. “If we take too long, then some other guards will come in to swap shifts. So we need to be quick.” 

“How many guards are there?” Maestro hissed.

“Two. Maybe three.” 

Maestro nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “Crack the door, then. Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

Asher then curled his fingers along the ornate wooden door’s brass knob, slowly drawing it toward himself until a crack formed between the door and its frame. Eagerly, he peeked through, then froze up.

Rubrum frowned. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Look for yourself,” Asher whispered.

And then, stacking themselves on top of one another, Maestro, Fey, and Rubrum all clamored for a peek. Beyond the door’s veneer was a long, well-lit hallway, doors inlaid on either side. A red carpet lolled down its middle like a tongue, lamps and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling like teeth. 

Three doorways down, smack-dab in the middle, sat a Mr. Mime. A guard. He idly picked at his gloved hands, clearly bored, and reclined backward in the most uncomfortable chair Maestro had ever seen. 

“His posture is terrible,” Maestro joked. 

Fey nodded. “Clearly.” 

Asher then leaned himself against the wall. Anxiously, he chewed on his claws, attempting to formulate a plan.

“He’s too far away for a head-on attack… he’d see us,” Asher whispered. “Somehow, we need to dispose of him without him noticing us.”

Maestro’s eyes, however, remained affixed on the Mr. Mime. The Psychic type wasn’t quite attentive – a quick glance, and he’d notice the litany of Pokémon peeking from the nearby door. I was right,  he thought, the Board’s security is worse than they let on. 

“I think I can get him with a Dark Pulse,” Maestro whispered. His paw curled into the shape of a flintlock, pointing one finger toward the prone Mr. Mime. “My aim is a little rusty, but… one blast should be enough to blind him. Especially since he’s a Psychic type.”

Rubrum asked, “Are you sure you can hit him?” 

“Ninety percent sure… maybe eighty five.” 

Asher frowned. “That doesn’t sound very promising.” 

“What other option do we have?” Maestro hissed. “Because if you have another plan, I’d be glad to listen.”

Frantically, Asher brainstormed his options. A well-placed Ember might knock out the Mr. Mime, but such a projectile would risk burning the place to the ground. Perhaps he could distract the Mr. Mime somehow? No, no… such a distraction could easily be traced to their position. 

Maestro held his paw steady, squinting one eye as he trained his sights on the Mr. Mime. “Seriously,” he said. “I think I got it. He’d never see it coming.” 

Asher huffed. He said, “There must be a better way. I don’t want to risk our chances on Maestro’s subpar aim. No offense.” 

Rubrum responded with a nervous smile. He placed a paw on Asher’s shoulder, replied: “Asher…Maestro can do this. He’s gotten us this far, hasn’t he?” 

Maestro stifled a laugh. “Yeah, buddy,” he quipped. “Don’t you trust me?” 

The Cinderace could only roll his eyes. Of course his companions would be joking at a time like this. 

“Fine,” Asher hissed. “Take your shot. But I’ll brace myself for you to miss. And for the love of Arceus, remain unseen.” 

And thus, Maestro lowered himself solidly to the ground. Stooping on one knee, he pointed his finger at the distant Mr. Mime. A shadowy cloud then coalesced around his fingertip, pulsing and throbbing like a storm cloud. For just a moment, the three Pokémon stared breathlessly at him, waiting for the energy to release. 

The Dark Pulse then burst free from Maestro’s fingertip, careening through the air like a comet, headed straight for the Mr. Mime’s chest. The two collided there with a wet, satisfying crunch, sending the unsuspecting Mr. Mime flying against the wall, his head slamming against the gaudy red wallpaper. 

Gotcha.

A terrified cry then flew from the Mr. Mime’s lips. He rubbed uselessly at his eyes, flailed aimlessly on the ground. “F–fuck! My eyes!” he yelled, sputtering through a cracked ribcage. “We’re under attack! Help!” 

With a hearty snarl, Fey then nearly ran ahead to detain the Mr. Mime, but Rubrum held him back. The Sylveon yelped as his professor grasped at the boy’s ribbons. 

“Fey, stop. I can feel another guard,” Rubrum whispered. “Maestro, take him out.” 

Maestro bit his lip, already mustering the energy for another Dark Pulse. “On it.”

Alas, he didn’t have to wait long. A Kirlia soon emerged from a nearby door in the hall, obviously alarmed at the sudden sound. The sight of her fellow guard put her on-edge, her outstretched palms immediately pulsing with Psychic energy. Just for a second, she stopped in her tracks to inspect her fallen companion. 

Gotcha.

The Dark Pulse collided with her lithe frame like a train, bending her backwards and laying her flat against the carpet. She only glimpsed a green smudge before she was sent flying, her head knocking against a nearby vase and knocking it onto the floor. She groaned. 

“Okay,” Rubrum breathed, and released Fey’s ribbons. “They should be good. Tie them up.” And the boy then bounded outward past the door, handily wrapping his long green ribbons around the incapacitated guards. 

Shakily, Maestro then stood, brushed off his knees. Adrenaline made him quiver as he steadied himself. He then turned to Asher with a nervous smile, quipped: “And you said I was a bad shot.” 

The Cinderace rolled his eyes, replied: “Whatever. Let’s go.” He then sauntered from his hiding place, strolled down the long red carpet. Carefully, he inspected each room number, stepping over the guards’ writhing bodies. Landing on a seemingly arbitrary door, he called Maestro over, and they crowded around it. Once more, Maestro brandished his lockpick. 

“Hey th–these guards are wriggly,” Fey pouted. “Get this done quick so we can leave.” 

	“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick,” Maestro cooed, and bent his wrist with a click. “Alright, there we go. That’s Kane’s office. Now for Maximus…” 

	Asher smiled. He said, “Good. I’ll check Kane’s office. You check the other with your loverboy.” 

	Rubrum scoffed, blushed. “Language, young man. But… yes, that sounds like a good plan.” And they disappeared from Asher’s sight.

	Asher thus entered Chairman Kane’s office. Gentle flames were still ensconced on the walls, illuminating the dapper crimson-walled office. Just as Asher had expected, the space was quite ornate. Velvet curtains hung from its pristine windows, trailed onto the floor like blood. A hearty oaken bureau laid at the room’s head, complimented at its sides by a smattering of brown filing cabinets. 

	Relishing the room’s opulence, Asher casually slipped himself into Kane’s chair, pulled himself close to the desk. As fast as he could, he then poured over the myriad of labels which separated the thick stacks of paper inside. One stack in particular immediately caught his eye – a collection labeled “REFORMATION CENTER.” Without thinking, he slipped the file into his satchel and continued his search.

	The rabbit’s brow then furrowed. As he delved deeper, he found progressively more and more mundane records: indexes of the price of grain from the last century; police payroll records; state of the Academy addresses, all painstakingly cataloged and annotated. One drawer simply contained a mound of golden coins, a childish note laid on top: “DO NOT TOUCH.” 

	Asher begrudgingly obeyed the note, closing the drawer and instead frantically scouring the nearby storage cabinets. He opened and shut each with a loud slam, scanning for something – anything – suspicious. However, every label seemed completely inconspicuous. Legal records, banishment records, and a surprising number of expedition reports. 

	Fuck. Panic began to overtake Asher as he sifted through the stacks of paper. If he didn’t find anything, this trip may have been useless. 

	And finally, as if on cue, Asher laid hands on a seemingly inconspicuous drawer – the leftmost and bottommost in the room, nestled subtly in the corner. It was shrouded by the nearby curtain, as if meant to be hidden. And, strangely, it was locked. 

	Asher glanced around, suddenly desperate for Maestro’s aid. He knew, however, that he didn’t have the time to retrieve it; no, he’d have to open this drawer himself. And quickly. He could already hear Fey grunting as he attempted to contain two guards at once.

	Without thinking, Asher felt his palms burning with anticipation. Thinking quickly, he then laid them on the filing cabinet’s front, gently pressing his fingers against the flimsy metal’s veneer. Subtly, a swirl of smoke arose from the cabinet; the scent of burnt metal singed Asher’s nose. 

	Seeing the smoke, Fey’s ears perked. From the hallway, he called: “What are you doing in there?” 

	“You’ll thank me later,” Asher shouted, and wiped sweat from his brow. He could just barely press his fingers into the drawer’s front now, molding it to his will. He smiled.

	And then, as if peeling the skin from a banana, Asher began wrenching back the cabinet’s front, laying bare a small folder of documents within. He was surprised; frankly, he had expected such a well-hidden cabinet to be more full.

	Asher then shook his paws in the air, attempting to dissipate their heat, before reaching inward and nudging the folder toward himself. On its front were a set of thick red stamped letters: “SALVATION.” He wasn’t quite sure why, but the file struck fear into his heart. The fur on his neck stood on-end. 

“Salvation,” Asher echoed, and gingerly took the file in his palms. He then splayed it open, gazing on its insides like a vivisected corpse. “What is…” 

Immediately, Asher could feel his fists clench. His breaths grew shallow, his arms shook.  

	No. There was no way. 

	As quickly as Asher had opened the file, he closed it and stashed it in his satchel. 

	Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to escape. Now.

	Asher then scrambled to his feet. Panic gripped his body, turning it to ice. The Cinderace then burst from the office into the hallway, frantically searching for his friends. Noticing Asher’s demeanor, Fey’s breaths stalled. 

	“Are they still in Maximus’s office?” Asher barked. 

	“Y–yes,” Fey replied. “Is everything–?” 

	But before Fey could finish, Maestro and Rubrum had emerged from Maxmus’s room. Their faces appeared drained of color, their limbs stiff and shaking. They, too, had definitely found something.

	“We need to go. Now,” Asher ordered.

Rubrum nodded, his lips pursed. “I agree,” he said. “We’ve found all we need.”  He then pointed at the captured guards and added: “Let them go. I doubt they’re strong enough to fight back.” 

His jaw agape, Maestro then approached Asher. With a shaking paw on Asher’s shoulder, he whispered: “Before we head out… did you find something big?”

Asher shuddered, replied: “I did. And it’s terrifying.” 

The four then began to run.