PARAGON

  Unknown Enemy Arc [12]

  Chapter 98 : Secret War

  Kalos Region - Lumiose City

  The door clicked and Anabel looked up from the array of files spread out on the table before her. Emma pushed the door open and practically fell inside. Her jaw hung slack and a strand of hair fell over her eye as she trudged forward. Mimi the Espurr trotted in behind her without a care in the world, and her eyes lit up at the sight of Anabel.

  “Welcome home,” Anabel said, standing to help her friend.

  Emma held a shopping bag in each hand, and Anabel swiftly took one off her hands. Emma let the other one fall on the ground and she began peeling off her shoes as if on autopilot.

  “Ya know, the guy at the grocery store knows me, and he was asking why I was suddenly buying more food than usual. He started going off about a boyfriend.”

  Anabel winced. “Sorry. I swear I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

  “That’s up to me though, isn’t it?” Emma drawled.

  Anabel put the bag on the counter and spun around hopefully. “Any luck on that front?”

  Emma sighed and kicked her shoes away, then pulled off her coat. The Expansion Suit, which she seemed to wear at all times, clung to her figure, and Anabel held back a comment about how easy it’d be for her to get a boyfriend.

  “Too much luck. I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.” As she started down the hall, she turned back. “You’re on dinner duty, by the way. I trust you can make something passable with what I just got?” She glanced at Anabel’s missing arm. “Or should I stay and help?”

  Anabel grinned. “Don’t worry, I can cook with one hand. I’ll have Mimi show me where everything is.”

  Mimi chirped in agreement, hopping up onto her chair, then the table.

  Emma wilted. “Please don’t burn my house down.”

  For that is where they were. Technically, they were still in the Looker Bureau, but Emma’s apartment sat above the office, so Anabel could easily go up and down as needed throughout the day, being careful to remain out of sight whenever Emma had clients or visitors.

  However, Looker Bureau had closed suddenly for the past several days since Emma had gone out of town. After their initial reunion, Emma had reluctantly agreed to take a flight to Hoenn and reconnect with her friends at World Command, the International Police’s headquarters. While there, she’d planned on doing a bit of detective work to figure out what was going on with Interpol.

  But while Emma was showering, all Anabel could do was wait. And cook. Gathering all of the groceries together and taking stock of what she had, Anabel eventually decided on a simple oven-baked salmon and couscous salad.

  This was the most involved meal she’d had to make since losing her arm, and she’d considered releasing one of her own pokémon to assist her, but ultimately decided against it for fear of spooking Mimi. Instead, she moved closely and carefully, pausing to think about her every action before moving. The last thing Anabel wanted to do was cause trouble for Emma when she was already going so out of her way to help.

  Emma walked back outside just as Anabel was plating. Her hair was damp, her face flushed, and although she wore a pair of fluffy pink slippers, the Expansion Suit was back on.

  “Smells good,” she said, taking a seat as Anabel placed her plate down in front of her. “Thanks.”

  Mimi purred with pride, earning a round of scratches, and Anabel seated herself across from Emma. Mimi had helped her clear off and set the table, and from what Anabel had been able to pick up, she ate at the dinner table with Emma. Thus, Mimi also had a bowl of pokémon food to enjoy, and she seated herself atop the table itself.

  Emma ate like she was starving, so Anabel elected not to interrupt her for the first few minutes of their meal. However, she eventually grew tired of the silence.

  “Do you always wear the suit?”

  Emma looked up and covered her mouth as she swallowed. “Hm? Oh, yeah, pretty much.”

  “Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

  “Not really.”

  “Or smelly?”

  Emma deadpanned. “I don’t sweat a lot. And I’m wearing something else underneath.”

  Anabel put her hand up defensively. “Just asking. I thought you might not have a choice or something.”

  “I just keep it on since you never know when a catastrophe will strike. It’s not like my body or mind will fall apart without it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I see…” That was what Anabel had been getting at, since Emma wouldn’t have been the first person Anabel knew to require an implement like that.

  “Hear from your friends at all?” Emma asked.

  Anabel shook her head.

  After taking a few more bites, Emma put her fork down and cleared her throat. “Alright, anything to report on your end. This story might take awhile.” She stifled a burp. “This is good, by the way.”

  Mimi chittered happily.

  “No, I want to hear what you have to say first.”

  Emma sighed and stretched. “Where to start… Well, for starters, I was able to see Looker again for the first time in a while.”

  Mimi yipped at the sound of Looker’s name and beamed brightly.

  “Good for you.”

  Anabel was happy for her too, knowing the Interpol agent called “Looker” was like a father to her, but the details of her investigation were far more tantalizing.

  Emma scowled. “It wasn’t just to catch up. He’s been in Interpol for a long time. If anyone would know what’s going on, it’s him.”

  “And?”

  “Aaaand…you were right.” Emma pinched her brow. “Champion Cynthia really is dead. And the manhunt for the Paragon Organization…it’s being run like a targeted assassination op. They’re not even trying to bring you in.”

  Anabel shrugged. “Told you.”

  Emma leaned back, perturbed at her nonchalance. “What did you do to earn this?”

  “I wish I could tell you. All we know is that Zelda Leora created the Paragon Organization with Cynthia at the helm, Cynthia rebelled against her and was killed for it, then all of Interpol moved to come after us.” She intentionally left out any mention of the Plates or Platebearers, wondering if Emma had learned of them herself.

  “Let me cut to the chase,” Emma said. “In short, this conspiracy you asked me to uncover…it’s way bigger than I think you think it is. It’s not just the International Police. Interpol’s just a part of this…or, well, I guess you could say they’re half of it.”

  Anabel raised a brow. “Half?”

  As she spoke, the mirth seemed to slowly recede from Emma’s eyes, giving way to fear, or apprehension. “Yeah… It’s the International Police and the Pokémon League. Neither organization is as it seems. And…I think they may have been designed that way. Or, at least, they’ve been this way for a long time.”

  “Does the League matter right now?” Weren’t they talking about the International Police right now?

  “I…don’t know. I was hoping you could answer that.” She looked up at Anabel hopefully.

  Anabel pursed her lips. “Please continue.”

  Emma sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear. A nervous tick, probably. “The upper echelons of Interpol and the League seem to be engaged in…what can only be described as a war. Like…a turf war, or something, but on a global scale.”

  “That makes them sound like regions of their own,” Anabel commented. “That’s how countries behave.”

  Emma nodded weakly. “Yeah. Basically. They’re both autonomous entities operating within regions, yet almost completely above the purview of their hosts’ governments. The League’s power is well known, but even Interpol treats the regions’ directives more like suggestions. They’re nations within nations.”

  Anabel felt her throat go dry and she took a slow swig of water. “Are you sure you’re not being dramatic?”

  “I wish,” Emma said, exasperated. “When Looker brought me the files on Interpol’s shadow operations against the League, I was skeptical at first. But…there were so many, and they’ve been going on for so long…”

  “What kind of operations?”

  “We’re practically creating enemies just to say we took them out,” Emma said, her voice hollow. “Have you ever wondered why criminal organizations crop up like weeds and Interpol always seems to be a step behind in taking them out? There are documents I sent that suggest Interpol was funding some of them.”

  “And those organizations… Where they operate and what they do could give us a clue on what Zelda’s goals are.”

  “I wouldn’t get my hopes up on that. It wouldn’t be that blatant.”

  Anabel paused. “You said it was like a turf war, not a real war. You’re not saying there have been actual casualties, right?”

  Emma’s eyes twitched, and she offered a fragile smile. “Cynthia?”

  The name hung in the air.

  “But…Cynthia’s death had nothing to do with the Pokémon League. It was Zelda alone.”

  “Zelda controls Interpol. This is her war. And this is how it happens. It’s a shadow war, Anabel. The deaths aren’t out in the open, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t happening. I mean, take Cynthia. Even though the League and Interpol are enemies, they’re both covering up her death.”

  “You think the League knows she’s dead?”

  “I’m sure most of the League doesn’t. The Champions and board might not know either. But…whoever’s responsible for prosecuting this war against the International Police…I bet they know. They know, but they have to play along. Cynthia was a unique case to begin with. Based on what you’ve said, she was firmly in Zelda’s camp, but she was embedded in the highest levels of the League. Even killing her doesn’t mean she can be excised from the board so cleanly.”

  Anabel chuckled. “The grand chessboard, huh?”

  “Geopolitics and international relations are a reality of our world. It’s just, till now, we may have misidentified who the key players are. It’s not the individual regions. It’s supranational powers, whose influence is so vast we can’t even tell where it begins and ends.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Anabel glanced over at her stack of files on the floor where Mimi had collected them. “Yeah, I may have something on that.”

  She got up and collected a short stack of printouts and arranged them in the middle of the table. “I’ve been reviewing Interpol’s past operations, mapping out where they’re concentrated, where their resources are the greatest, and where they tend to run into trouble. There are outliers, of course, but a pattern did emerge. Obviously, that’s not enough to draw a conclusion, so I cross-referenced what I’d found with flight logs of the executives, purchasing and sourcing of intelligence hardware and software, their closest partners and where they’re based, the—“

  “Slow down, slow down,” Emma said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is all gibberish to me, Anabel. And…you’re saying you actually found something in all those documents I gave you? It’s all just paperwork that Looker left behind with the building.”

  “Not everything. There’re also the new files you got from Looker and sent over to me. I printed those out and reviewed them with the others.”

  “It’s just more junk, though. Most of it’s not even redacted. It’s all…procedural.”

  Anabel leaned forward. “Have you been listening to me? Maybe it’s procedural to you since stuff like this passes by your desk everyday, but these are all internal documents? None of this should be seen by the public, and for good reason.”

  “I mean obviously I wasn’t gonna let anyone else besides you read them, but…what’s the point? Are you telling me you actually learned something relevant from all this scrap paper?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Maybe Looker’s just Daddy to you, but he’s a very high ranking operative of Interpol. He’s privy to a lot.”

  Emma blushed and her cheeks ballooned out. “I don’t call him that.”

  “Here.” Anabel spun a paper around in front of Emma. It was one corner of a world map, and Anabel quickly arranged several more papers alongside each other until she had a complete map. “You said the powers that be have influence so vast we can’t define the ends? Well, I can. At least for the International Police.” She traced Hoenn’s border with a pen and dragged it south down to Alola. “Zelda controls Hoenn and Alola.”

  Emma stared at the map, then at Anabel. Unconvinced. “Interpol controls those two regions?”

  “Zelda, more specifically. Her sphere of influence, her ‘territory’ seems to be centralized in these two regions.” Anabel flicked several papers in front of Emma. “The International Police is like the skeleton of Zelda’s control. They’re her eyes, ears, and hands. And what is Hoenn?”

  Emma shrugged, skimming the pages before her. “A nice vacation spot?”

  Anabel deflated. “A naval superpower. A technological superpower. A weapons superpower.”

  Emma bit her lip. “All those rockets aren’t just for space exploration. They’re dual-use…”

  Anabel nodded. “And despite Alola’s size, they’re a hub for medicine and science too. Just think of what Alola and Hoenn could produce if an actual war broke out…”

  “Compelling…” Emma pushed the papers aside. “But the League has a presence in both regions. How would that work in wartime?”

  “I don’t know. But Interpol has a global presence too. Safehouses and black sites everywhere. Though it should be noted that League influence in Alola is particularly thin.”

  “So…what? That’s Zelda’s headquarters, of sorts?”

  Anabel sighed. “Maybe. That’s where Cynthia was always meeting her.”

  Emma leaned back and took a long sip of her water.

  “I know this all sounds crazy, and I sound crazy, but I promise this—“

  “I wasn’t gonna say that,” Emma cut her off. “The day I found you in my office I was surprised enough, but after talking to Looker, even I could tell there was something more to Interpol. He’s been looking into it for awhile, but maybe he just couldn’t put it all together because he was too close. In other words…I believe you.”

  A weak smile fluttered on Anabel’s lips. “Thanks. Though, this reality is far more horrifying than what we initially thought.”

  “Yeah, about that. This war between Interpol and the League… It’s supposed to be a shadow war. But you talked as if entire regions would actually go to war against each other one day. So the next logical question then is, if Zelda controls Interpol, then who controls the League? What enemy has Zelda been gearing up to go to war with? Or been at war with this whole time?”

  Anabel chewed her lip. “I don’t know. A couple of my friends are looking into the League, though, so hopefully they get some answers.”

  Emma drained her cup and set it down gently. Her plate was clean.

  “So, I guess I was the right person to come to for info after all. Does that mean you’ll be disappearing now?”

  The corners of Anabel’s eyes wrinkled sadly. “I think so. The others need to hear about all this.”

  “Will you tell me where you’re meeting?”

  She asked it innocently enough, but it caught Anabel off guard for the briefest of moments.

  “The fewer people know, the better. Once we get to the bottom of this, I’ll give you a call…”

  “Not before you clear your name, I hope. I don’t want to end up on a list.”

  “I was hoping you’d work something behind the scenes for us. You know? To clear our names.”

  “I think I’ve squeezed everything I can out of my position for now. And after finding out exactly what kind of hornet’s nest you’ve been kicking, I’m thinking I’ll be wanting to keep my head down for a while, actually.”

  “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

  “I’m very scared. I may just need you to hold my hand and sing me a song if I want to sleep tonight.”

  Mimi purred valiantly, taking her words literally.

  A warm smile stretched across Anabel’s face. “Thank you for everything, Emma. Really. I’ll be back one day to tuck you in. I promise.”

  Emma looked up. “I’m holding you to that. Don’t be a stranger. And preferably, return with all limbs still attached, please.”

  Anabel grinned. “I’d prefer that as well.”

  Unova Region - Lower Atmosphere

  The sun scorched N’s eyes as Reshiram broke out of Twist Mountain in a shower of rocky debris. Reshiram growled and immediately sped up, his body warming beneath N as dragonfire roared to life within him.

  Fezandipiti was a black stain on the otherwise cloudless and unblemished Unovan sky. A carpet of trees rustled far below, the emerald luster undampened by the peppering of snow that fluttered in the air at this altitude.

  N had his hand wrapped protectively around Spearow, who still sat on his shoulder, but the bird seemed to be enjoying the high velocity chase rather than fearing she’d fall off the ride. She chittered excitedly as Reshiram made subtle adjustments to his flight, honing in on Sylvester.

  Now that they had emerged from the subterranean maze, Reshiram was free to fly at his top speed, or at least, his top speed while he had a rider. Within the mountain, Fezandipiti had the advantage, using its size and maneuverability to weave around sharp corners and through narrow mineshafts. But now that they were out in the open and it was a contest of pure speed, Reshiram would not lose.

  “Faster, Reshiram,” N commanded.

  Are you sure?

  N tightened his hold on Reshiram’s smoky fur and spared a glance at Spearow, but she still didn’t look stressed in the slightest. “We’re fine. Bring us up alongside them.”

  Reshiram nodded and hunkered down. A royal heat seared N’s back as Reshiram’s tail flared, and the dragon jetted forward. The wind howled in N’s ears and bit at his face, but he was used to flights on Reshiram’s back. One did not tend to ride dragons for leisure, especially not legendary dragons, and comfort was not Reshiram’s priority.

  Sylvester must have heard the roar of Reshiram’s tail because he whipped around as Reshiram swooped closer.

  “Sylvester!” N yelled. “Land now!”

  Sylvester faced forward again, a glare burning on his face, and he urged Fezandipiti to go faster, leaning forward.

  Where is he even going? N wondered.

  Reshiram snorted and increased his clip as well. He could not be outrun.

  “Sylvester, stop!” N yelled again. “Cynthia left a message!”

  That got Sylvester’s attention. They continued forward a bit longer before he patted Fezandipiti’s neck to descend. N breathed a sigh of relief and followed.

  They landed in a forest clearing. Sylvester flung himself off of Fezandipiti and marched straight over to N.

  “What did she say?” Sylvester snarled before N had even dismounted. He seized N’s ankle and yanked him to the ground. “What did she say?!” he roared.

  Reshiram glowered down at Sylvester, but N threw up a hand and slowly got to his feet.

  Sylvester’s eyes were swollen and red, and N grimaced at the sight of him. He’d been disheveled enough after spending weeks locked within Spiritomb, but grief had ruined him even further. His hair was wild and tangled from the flight, a coat of stubble growing on his face.

  “First, I’m sorry,” N said quietly. “We would’ve freed you sooner if only we’d known—“

  “I don’t want your apologies!” Sylvester seized N’s collar. “I want the message.”

  N glanced away. “I can’t show you here.”

  Sylvester shook N’s collar, his eyes widening with rage.

  N weighed his words carefully. He should’ve thought of what he’d say beforehand. He had, but now that Sylvester was this incensed, everything he’d thought of sounded silly now.

  “Zinnia’s Aster is the one who transmitted the message. It was contained within a shard of Spiritomb’s body.”

  Sylvester scowled and released N, pacing away.

  “We need to leave this place, Sylvester,” N urged, following him. “Much has happened since you disappeared. Paragon is being hunted by the International Police. Someone will have spotted us in the sky. We need to—“

  “I don’t care,” Sylvester said callously. “My cousin is dead. Killed by her ambition. Why should we avoid the same fate? Let them come. At least then I can take some of them with me.”

  N slowed, a mass forming in his chest. What could he say? He knew how close the Shironas were. Was he supposed to tell Sylvester to just get over it? Suppress his grief until they got to safety?

  “The others are looking for the one responsible,” N said. “If we’re caught now, their efforts will be for nothing.”

  A hollow chuckle escaped Sylvester. “Cynthia was prodding at the powers that underpin this entire world. Even if you do find them, what can a handful of misfits do against that?”

  “Nothing, if we remain separated.” N’s brows creased. “What about you? Where were you flying off to? Do you think you can avenge her alone?”

  Sylvester spun around. “Don’t lecture me, N, I feel like shit right now. The last thing I need is your moralizing.” His eyes narrowed as he saw N’s belt. “Are those my pokémon? Give them to me.”

  N took a step back. “Will you promise to come with me?”

  “They’re my pokémon,” Sylvester sneered. “Plasma bastard.”

  Even though he knew it was the grief talking, N felt speared. His hands moved on their own to unclip Sylvester’s pokéballs. Team Plasma had once been known to steal pokémon from others under the self-righteous banner of liberation, and it was an identity N labored to distance himself from whenever it came up.

  Sylvester caught each one as N tossed them to him. But once they were all clipped to his own belt, he paused, his gaze cast downward.

  “Sylvester?” N moved closer.

  The man sighed and sat down on the wet grass, his eyes never leaving their nonexistent target. His arms rested on his knees, limp.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  N froze.

  Sylvester’s eyes were closed and each breath he took seemed heavy, as if he was trying not to vomit.

  N couldn’t break the silence. Even if he knew what to say, it felt insensitive now. For weeks, Sylvester must’ve been fearing for the worst. He’d been expecting Cynthia’s fate, but as long as it wasn’t confirmed, he could still cling to hope. It must’ve been exhausting. And now that he had the truth, with his mental fortitude already savaged, it threatened to crush him completely.

  What could N say to brace that grief? To keep him from shattering?

  “Cynthia said…she knew it was coming,” he tried. “She had a message for each of us. She seemed…ready for it.”

  Sylvester shook his head.

  “She wasn’t ready for it,” he said. “She couldn’t be.”

  N bit the inside of his mouth. Stupid thing to say.

  “Did she have anything for me?” Sylvester asked.

  “No…she didn’t.”

  Sylvester nodded. “Nothing else, then.” He went silent for a spell. “She gave me her final words just before she sealed me away.”

  Cynthia had said she’d given Sylvester a truncated version of her message, but N could not bring himself to ask him exactly what she’d said.

  “She’s been out of my reach for as long as I can remember. And now…I’ll never reach her.”

  N could not produce the words to comfort him. He tried to imagine how it’d feel to lose Reshiram, but it didn’t feel comparable. Actually, it felt insulting to Sylvester to even attempt a comparison. Because Reshiram was not dead. Cynthia was.

  Yet the urgency of their situation produced different words.

  “We should leave, Sylvester,” N said as calmly as he could. “Let’s get somewhere you can…freshen up. I’ll tell you everything.”

  Sylvester snorted and N saw the vigor dissipate from his body.

  “Cynthia was betrayed, you say. Are we going to war against all of Interpol?”

  “No,” N said soberly. “We’re against someone far stronger. Someone actually capable of killing Cynthia.”

  Sylvester’s eyes tightened at the mention of Cynthia’s murder and for a moment, N wondered if he’d selected the wrong phrase. But his lips soon spread into a thin smirk.

  “…Sylvester?”

  Sylvester dragged his limbs over the grass and stood slowly. “You have a way with words, brother.”

  N felt his body loosen, though not completely. He knew Sylvester was just putting on a brave face, but at least he was calmer now. N hadn’t even finished processing Cynthia’s fate yet, so there was no way Sylvester had.

  A rustle in the brush atop the steep ridge that encircled the clearing caught Reshiram’s attention, and he growled.

  They emerged on all sides in black, nondescript tactical gear.

  Fezandipiti stalked in front of Sylvester, eyes narrowed, and the flames in Reshiram’s tail flared, releasing a threatening gurgle.

  “Natural Harmonia Gropius,” came a deep voice devoid of empathy. “And Sylvester Shirona.”

  N turned around.

  A man with dark skin and a lattice of milky scars across his face planted his foot at the edge of the ridge and leaned forward, a grim scowl hanging on his lips. His white cloak billowed over the silver steel of his armor.

  “For crimes against humanity of which I’m sure you’re already aware, I’m placing you both under arrest. Failure to comply will result in the use of deadly force.”

  Next — Chapter 99 : Deadlock

  I apologize for all the delays lately. Busy, busy, busy. I also got into visual novels recently so that eats away at my time as well. But we’re fast approaching the midpoint of the arc! And I’m going to have to make a decision very soon about how violent and gruesome I actually want this story to be :]