The HQ Team (PLOT)

"Recall your Pokemon," the officer demanded. Colress was shaking so hard, and he almost appeared otherwise frozen in place. It was only logical, a Pokemon could be more dangerous than a weapon, and since R2 was a Psychic type, he had the potential to be a major problem. Despite this, the Beheeyem was extremely reluctant to leave Colress' side. The scientist was not in a good state of mind already, and the questioning later was only going to make it worse. If he got thrown in jail all alone... R2 's worry skyrocketed. If Colress was left to his own devices for too long, he'd... The thought was interrupted by the officer repeating his order in a harsher tone, and R2 knew that despite his worry, cooperating would be better for them.

"C'mon Colress, do what he says," R2 gently shook Colress as he tried to make him respond. It seemed to work as Colress turned his head to meet the Beheeyem's eyes, and R2 was again worried as he saw how scared those amber eyes were. Colress nodded, and slowly reached into his pocket for R2's Pokeball. It didn't take him long to find it, thankfully, since he almost always knew how to find the Pokeballs when he needed them. Colress tried to give his worried friend a reassuring smile, but it came out extremely strained. R2 was by no means convinced, but there was nothing more they could do. The act of recalling the Beheeyem was foreboding, and Colress could not deny feeling as if everything was about to crash down.

After his Pokemon was put away, the officer then told him, "Alright, now stand up, hands behind your back, and turn around." Colress flinched, and he tried to stand up. His arms and legs, however, just weren't cooperating. He managed to get to a half standing position, before the officer practically lifted him to a proper standing position and roughly turned him around. As he heard his rights being recited, He felt the handcuffs being placed around his wrists, and his heart felt just as chained. "Let's go."  The blonde man was far too miserable to pay attention to where the officer was leading him.

His mind was going over all the possibilities of what could happen, and also noting the irony of his situation. He had been trying to keep quiet and out of sight, but trouble still found him. Though he deserved to be in this position, the crime he was about to be accused of wasn't one of his sins. Speaking of his previous crimes, it was entirely possible that these people would find something now that they would be scrutinizing him. If that got out, regardless of his guilt or innocence of the crime at hand, he would be ostracized. There was no good way that could end. If he wasn't allowed to work on cure research... there wouldn't be much reason for him to keep living... And it wouldn't be likely they'd allow him near Wally anymore. If they took his Pokemon too... Colress started tearing up, but his misery was ignored by the police escorting him to the jail.

Eventually, they made it to the jail area of HQ, and Colress was already miserable. He paid little attention to the location before they finally stuck him in an interrogation room. Here he was informed, "Due to the nature of this crime, we have to involve the heads of the Indigo Plateau." Now he was going to be interrogated by the leaders of HQ? His heart dropped to his stomach; there was no way this would end well. Even if he was later cleared, they'd still associate him with the murder, and if any hints of his dealings with Team Plasma came up, he was doomed. He sat in the chair the room offered for suspects, and he wished to just bury his head in his hands. Not being able to move his hands made him feel even more helpless. What was that old saying called? he mused. Then he remembered, Murphy's Law. What can go wrong, will go wrong.

Steven heaved out a sigh, leaning his back against one of the walls for a moment. It was easy to forget just how far HQ's corridors stretched until one had spent the last half hour walking them. Elm was still nowhere to be found, and so Steven figured he'd just look for the Professor later. For now, maybe he could find something more productive rather than wandering aimlessly along the hallways.

He felt that the walk had done him some good though; exercised some life back into his weary bones. He still hadn't made it up to the rooftop just yet though; on clear days, the views of the mountains and plains beyond the Plateau's walls was absolutely stunning. He made a note to try and do that later; sometimes he just needed a reminder that, despite how it had fallen into disarray, there was still some beauty to witness in the world from time to time. Not all was lost.

He remembered that he had some reports to copy up, and so headed back in the direction he'd come, back towards his office where his papers and laptop were stored. An hour in the cafeteria with a coffee would do the trick. Maybe he could even try to get his food into him.

Pushing open the door, he hadn't expected to see anybody in there. One of them was Wallace, the other a young woman in her early twenties. Steven didn't have time to try and recognize her; the looks on their faces froze him in his tracks. Something was wrong; the very atmosphere in the room felt so thick he felt like it could suffocate him. Wallace's face was pale as the snow, the woman's hand trembling at her sides. Dear legends, what had happened?

He swallowed, not sure if he wanted to ask the question. "Is...something the matter?"

((I'm terribly sorry for my inactivity as of late; things have been rather busy for me these last few weeks. I will try my utmost best to stay on top of things and begin to post here regularly again.))

Wallace let out a short, high-pitched scream as Steven came into the room, the messenger girl jumping and yelping as well. Placing a hand over his racing heart, Wallace sped from around Steven's desk as the poor, confused Champion stood in bewildered quiet. "You scared me..." "Is...something the matter?" Wallace nodded, then looked to the frightened girl to repeat her horrible message.

She nodded in turn, looking fearfully to Steven. "S-Sir, there's... there's been a murder. One of the scientists in the cure research labs showed up in the freezer-- they need you there straightaway. I'm to fetch the other Champions and security--"

"Yes, we should get there as soon as possible," Wallace remarked to his companion. "With Cynthia and La-- oh god, no, they're gone, aren't they? Shit. Then it's Clair and... whoever Cynthia left in charge."


---------------------



Clair left with her normal devil-may-care attitude, leaving Karen alone in the hallway. It didn't take her long to make her way back to her room, nearly throwing off her clothes as soon as she was just near her room. Karen wasted absolutely no time in hopping into the shower for the second time that morning, thoroughly washing absolutely every inch of herself while she contemplated burning her clothes. Slick slipped into the shower with her, the umbreon quickly becoming drenched as he laid quietly in a corner to groom himself. Karen couldn't help a small chuckle; even he couldn't stand the gross.

Striding out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her mop of hair, she paused in the living room as her team lounged on the furniture, her Houndoom, Eve, trotting up happily to greet her. Karen smirked and bent down to Eve's level, more than happy to see the fire hound. "Did I not say hi to you? Oh my Gosh, I'm the worst, aren't I? Ohst, ohst, ohst, yus, you're my good little darlin' baby child." But a quick, frantic knock at the door quickly had everyone at attention, their trainer included.

Frowning, Karen made her way to the door, gently pushing aside her Mandibuzz, completely uncaring of the fact that all she wore was a towel... which only her hair occupied. Karen swung the door open, revealing a young woman, who gawked at her for a moment. A long moment. Karen cleared her throat and snapped her fingers at the girl. "Hey. I'm busy; you stare any longer and I'm gonna have to start charging you. What do you want?"

"You-uh... You've been... summoned... There's uh... there's been a-a murder?" the woman stuttered as she shielded her eyes with her hand.

"A murder? Where?!"

"PLEASE keep your voice down, ma'am!" she messenger cried, looking around the corridor before continuing. "In the labs. You're to report to the Security rooms to get the tapes from last night, then bring them to th-the uh, the other Champions."

Karen rolled her eyes. "The other Champions aren't here."

The girl lowered her hand an inch, confusion clear in her wide eyes. "Steven's here, Miss."

"Ugh. Oh yeah. Fine, whatever, is that all?"

The girl nods vigorously and races away, leaving Karen to stand nude in her doorway. "Ugh, finally. Something interesting happened..."

Jeez, what was with this kid? He wasn't even trying to clean up the mess he'd made; just standing there steadily swinging his arms back and forth as the foamy puddle of water spread across the floor. Little weirdo. Well, he'd have to mop it up eventually; so much water on the floor was a terrible health and safety hazard. Next person to walk down here would go ass over tit and break their fucking necks. Clair would have to fix that; HQ couldn't afford to have useless, weird little whelps living in its luxury quarters. He'd just have to clean it up or he'd be on his bony ass outside the door.

The blood-like taste of metal swam around her mouth as she continued to bite down on her blade. Seriously, no one would miss this kid if she just plunged it into his back right now while he wasn't looking. Eh, maybe Wallace, but even he was busy these days, babysitting his pet Champion. Even the discovery of his body bundled into the closet wouldn't be much of a tragedy. "Oh it's just that janitor kid," they'd say. "Nobody important, at least. Hmm. Sucks."

She could go on like this all day; just hating this little shit with every fibre of her being. Lance was a colossal moron to let him in; to fill up one of HQ's rooms that could've gone to someone actually worth a damn. Oh well, at least all this water was an excuse for her to let out some of her contempt; maybe rub his stupid face in it while she was at it.

A brief look around confirmed that the corridor was otherwise deserted. Now was a good time.

"Hey asshat," she called as she approached, spreading her arms and gesturing to the mess around her. "Just what the hell do you call this? Instead of standing there like comatose Slowpoke, get a move on and clean it up!"

Time passed in a blur but at the same time the Professor still had no concept of telling when the hour passed. Finishing the fruit but not even being able to touch the coffee, Professor Elm was rushing through the halls in a mild panic.

"Wasn't this the way to where you were meeting your partner, Em?" Furret remained out of her pokeball, the brown and pink sphere hidden within the depths of her goofy trainer's giant lab coat pockets.

"O- oh, th- they were suppose to be down.... was it the l- eft corridor? Or th... the r- right?" The trainer was fumbling over his own shoes, Elm's feet half refusing to move while simultaneously trying to go around in a circle.

"We're lost!" was Corsola's chipper reply.

"Hush," the normal type chided them, keeping pace with her trainer without trouble despite remaining on her hind legs. Fortunately the hallway was more than large enough for them to walk side by side while the chunk of walking coral trailed behind. "Where was the map, Professor? That would prove useful."

"It... To- Totodile ate it," he reminded her, tone thick with shame.

"Oh, Emmanuel," Furret sighed.

"Hey asshat." The voice rang out, a voice he recognized; it echoed off the walls of the hallway, loud and mocking, and the shock of hearing it numbed him for a moment before nausea threatened to overwhelm him. Frozen in horror, he found he couldn't bring himself to turn around to look at her.

"Just what the hell do you call this? Instead of standing there like comatose Slowpoke, get a move on and clean it up!"

Oh yes, if there was a higher power up there, it fucking hated him.

He swallowed. Should he ignore Clair? Just keep scrubbing the floor? No, she'd probably get angry. Bullies didn't respond well to being ignored. Ever.  

Legends, he couldn't even flee. He had a job to do; he couldn't just run off! What do I do, oh gods, what do I do!?  

He straightened up from his bent over sitting position to dunk the brush into the pail. Best to start mopping up this section at least; he got most of the dirt out of this one spot. Now he needed to suck the excess water out. I've got to at least SAY something to her.  She wasn't going to leave without some kind of response.

"I'm not standing around. Actually, I'm on my hands and knees trying to get the caked dirt out. And now I'm about to mop up." Remarkable; he actually said that with a steady voice... maybe a bit too emotionless, but at least it didn't shake.

Anger flared for a moment; how dare she. How dare she come make a shitty day even worse!? Just go away and leave him alone! He wasn't looking for a fight!

As soon as the fury ignited, it sputtered and died, smothered. Why even bother? I can't actually do anything. Getting angry won't help. All it'll do is suck away energy he didn't even have to spare.

Please go away... please just go away...

Colress's arms started getting sore, and he wondered if he was going to be stuck with his arms in this position when he heard the knob turning. Oh no... It starts... He quickly turned his head to see a different officer walk in, and, at his confused glance, they said, "I'm just here to make sure you won't be a problem. You have Pokemon, correct?" Lying about his three Pokemon wouldn't help him in the long run, and besides, several of the officers and fellow scientists at least knew about R2. Unable to bring himself to say anything, he merely nodded. Then the officer asked, "How many, and where are they?"

"Three... In my pocket... Right side," dread pooled in his stomach; he was almost certain he knew what was going to happen next. He kept hoping he was wrong, but his fears were confirmed when the officer reached into his lab coat and pulled out three Pokeballs. I'm so sorry... R2, Spock, Magneto... I tried. The officer then begins to walk out the room, but Colress could not help but ask, "Where are you taking them?" They weren't involved with this, or anything else he could be accused of... If his Pokemon were hurt because of this, he'd never forgive himself for it.

"We're holding onto them since you're a suspect. They won't be harmed or anything," This one picked up on his concern pretty quickly and decided to placate him. "I'll come back and readjust the handcuffs after making sure you don't have any other weapons," they continued and then walked back out the door. While he was somewhat relieved by the officer's words, he couldn't help but imagine ways that it could still go wrong. He had had these Pokemon for so long that some might think them as irredemable as he was, or they should be killed just because they were associated with him. R2 was probably the only one that could dragged into the murder accusation because he was the one seen with him the most, and the thought scared him. He ran from Lacunosa to protect his Pokemon...

His thoughts were interrupted by the officer returning and double checking his person for any concealed weapons. Finding the scientist clean, the officer then unlocks the handcuffs and allows Colress to bring his arms in front of him. They then put the cuffs back on him, and then leave the room once more. While the position was more comfortable, the metal on his wrists still bothered him, and his mind was quickly coming up with even worse scenarios. He was still waiting on his interrogators to show up, and eventually, he could no longer stay still. He stood up from the chair and began to pace the room to let off some of his nervous energy.

"S-Sir, there's... there's been a murder."

They were joking. Of course they were; any moment now they'd burst into fits of laughter. "Your face!" they'd howl. "We completely got you there!" Steven would collapse in sheer relief and probably not speak to Wallace for about a week.

But their faces continued to dash his hopes. The terror in their eyes was all too real. Steven felt it creeping into his own heart; an icy chill that paralysed his limbs. He stumbled backwards, a dull ache shooting up his back as he collided with the bookshelf.

"A-A...a what?!" he finally managed.

"Yes, we should get there as soon as possible." Go where? He hadn't even been listening. "With Cynthia and La-- oh god, no, they're gone, aren't they? Shit. Then it's Clair and... whoever Cynthia left in charge."

He didn't have a clue, his head spinning far too fast to even remember the faces of the Sinnoh Elite Four. He felt sick; his knees threatened to buckle.

"I er..." he finally managed after a good few moments staring into space. "Fi-Find the Sinnoh Elite Four, if they're here," he told the girl. "If they are, tell them to go to, um...t-tell them to go to...wherever it is we're going."

"Yes, sir.

"And find Clair," he added as she hurried out with a visible grimace. Looks like his plan of avoiding that little slut wasn't going to work after all. "Tell her what's happened as well, if she doesn't already know." The girl nodded frantically and dashed out into the corridor.

"Wallace, I want you with me." Somehow finding the strength to stand up straight, Steven headed out into the halls as well, closing the door to his office behind him. "Where are...where are we going again?" he mumbled to Wallace, suddenly gripping his friend's arm as the wave of anxiety returned. "I feel sick."

A killer lived within HQ's walls...The question was: would they strike again?

"I er..." Wallace looked up to his old friend, the other's face already pale and unfocused. Oh God, he was going to throw up again, wasn't he? Guilt stabbed through Wallace's chest; he hadn't been able to keep the calm, not even for a day. "Fi-Find the Sinnoh Elite Four, if they're here," Steven directed the terrified girl. "If they are, tell them to go to, um...t-tell them to go to...wherever it is we're going."

"Yes, sir.

"And find Clair," he added as the aid ran off, visibly flinching at her name. Wallace couldn't keep the look of worry off his face as he watched Steven fumble with command. "Tell her what's happened as well, if she doesn't already know." She didn't reply, but Wallace figured she heard him. Either way, at least she was getting the people that were needed, even if no one would be ecstatic to see Clair. For once, Wallace wished Lance were back. Dealing with Clair now seemed like an impossible task.

"Wallace, I want you with me." The Water Master was at his side in an instant, watching the other's face carefully. "Of course, Steven. I'll be right beside you." There was no joke, no coyness or frivolity in his words-- just loyalty. "Where are...where are we going again?" he stuttered as they walked down the hallway, Steven gripping Wallace's arm for support. In turn, the Water Master placed a hand over Steven's to try and give him some moral support as well. Wallace tried to set a decent pace, eyes going between Steven and the hall ahead of them. "I feel sick."

"We're going to the Police Station. That's where they'll have the suspects and where we'll need to talk to everyone else about what's happening. We can make it, all right? Just focus on the floor ahead of you." Dutifully, Wallace led the way, careful to try and keep Steven from vomiting in the halls.


------------


Karen groaned as she pulled at her still-wet hair, cracking her neck as she waited for the files to duplicate onto the CD in the computer. All the security tapes from the night before were there, but it was just easier to bring all the stuff down to the investigation rather than cram everyone into the tiny room she worked in. She had managed to bother and cram on a top and pants, but no shoes or socks. It was typical work attire anyway.

Once the disc finished copying, Karen ejected the thing and took it, whirling a little in her chair before actually getting up. Slick had made the journey with her, the little Umbreon padding along beside her as she made her way to where the others were meeting. Whatever happened in that lab last night had to be on the disc, even though she hadn't had a chance to view it herself given all the rush.

It didn't take long to get to the main station, right next to where they were holding the poor bastard they named a possible suspect. She burst into a room to wait for the others, eager to get the show on the road.

Clair stood confidently with her arms folded across her chest, a smirk on her face as she watched Wally freeze at the sound of her voice. Good; at least he had some idea just who was in charge here. If her voice could make him react like that, she was satisfied.

"I'm not standing around," the little shit said after a moment. Clair's grin twisted into a snarl; how dare he answer her back. "Actually, I'm on my hands and knees trying to get the caked dirt out. And now I'm about to mop up."

"Don't talk back to me," she spat, venom dripping from her tone. Her teeth bore together so hard they actually began to ache. "I don't need a fucking commentary; just shut up and do as I say."

She unfolded her arms and slowly began to stride towards him. What was that little box thing attached to his waist? Clair blinked at it, noticing the thin wires snaking up to a pair of headphones around his neck. It looked a little bit like a Walkman. Envy flared up within her; she'd always wanted something like that when she was a kid, but the Elders had said that it would distract her from her training and had refused. She'd had to listen to her music with a shitty little record player in the corner of her room that only seemed to work when she slammed a fist into its side.

"Hey, what's that?" she asked loudly, leaning over to his level and pointing to the Walkman. Maybe, if she played her cards correctly, this would be the day she finally got one.

As expected, she retaliated. "Don't talk back to me."  

She sounded like a snake. An angry, venomous snake ready to bite his head off. He grit his teeth at his anger over being treated like dirt beneath her shoe again.  

Exhaustion weighed on his eyelids and his shoulders in a way sleep didn't fix. Of all days for her to seek him out, it had to be today. Gods, didn't she have puppies to go kick or something?

"I don't need a fucking commentary; just shut up and do as I say."

I'm not your slave, lady. I'm already doing my work. Maybe he should've said that aloud. Instead he just glared at her.

"Hey, what's that?" She had stepped close, far too close, and was pointing to his walkman. The boy blinked, confused. Had... she never seen one before?

... Did she also just go from furious and abusive to genuinely curious?

Maybe this was an opportunity to connect? He didn't have to befriend her--gods knows he wouldn't do that--but maybe if they found a common thread, something like that, she'd realize he was a human fucking being and would leave him alone.

Right? That could happen? Right?

Welp, not like I have much of a choice... He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that had begin to nestle inside it. "It's, um... it's a walkman. A music player. It's-- music's important to me, so... it helps to have it around when things are quiet. Gives me some white noise and makes the hallways a lot less... empty." That was horrible and he stuttered so badly.

UGH.

But at least he avoided slipping and admitting the walkman itself was important. Plus, it wasn't necessarily a lie. Music was important to him. For a lot of reasons. None that he'd share in any detail with anyone beyond the fact that it makes the hallways seem less lonely, but important nonetheless. She didn't have to know why.

(Skip, please.)

The police station. Yes, that made sense. Why hadn't he realised that himself? He shouldn't have been surprised; his head was stuck in a hurricane so intense he was sure he'd soon forget his own name. The word just whipped around in his mind: murder, murder, murder. HQ was made to be a place of solace and safety, a shield from the chaos that was the outside world. No. This wasn't how it was meant to be.

"We can make it, all right?" Wallace said, and Steven noticed that his friend was holding his hand.
"Just focus on the floor ahead of you."

"Y-Yes." If only the floor would stop feeling like it was going to tip up, walking in a straight line would be easier. "I'm all right, it's just...just quite a shock, that's all." He gave Wallace's hand a reassuring squeeze as his friend led him down the corridor.

Steven's shock slowly morphed into anger as he walked, his mind turning to whomever had been in charge of security that night. It was usually either Karen or Sidney, but it was likely that the two had gotten someone to cover for them as they often did when they fancied a boozy night in. He frowned, hoping that one of his Elite Four wasn't responsible for letting security fail at the time. Sidney was a lazy layabout at the best of times, but he was usually good at his job. That only left...

"Karen," he blurted aloud. "And Sidney. I want them both there. I want to know what happened. The research lab should've been guarded. This shouldn't have happened..." They reached the door to the stairwell and started to ascend. Steven gripped the handle so hard his knuckled turned white. "Shouldn't have happened! How could this have happened, Wallace?!"

"Y-Yes." Pain shot through Wallace's heart once more as his Champion's voice faltered and shook with unease. He could tell that Steven was barely holding it together again, his face pale with nausea again. "I'm all right, it's just...just quite a shock, that's all." Wallace nodded, but said nothing in reply; for once, there was nothing more to say. But Steven squeezed his hand in assurance, giving the Water Master a reason to smile, even just a little. He squeezed back, eager to keep moving.

They walked for a while, heading toward the stairwell. Wallace's mind raced with possible suspects-- who would want one of the cure researchers dead? Did they have a spy in their midst? But for who? Giovanni was dead-- who else would actually want the plague to keep progressing? But it seemed in the silence that stretched on, Steven had been having his own thoughts. "Karen," he suddenly snapped, earning a quick look of surprise from his companion. Where the hell did this fire come from? "And Sidney. I want them both there. I want to know what happened. The research lab should've been guarded. This shouldn't have happened..." Wallace blinked in sheer shock as the frail, sick man transformed into a ball of fury that could have rivaled Lance. "Shouldn't have happened! How could this have happened, Wallace?!"

"Laziness," Wallace snapped back, his own anger rising at seeing his Champion and best friend so worked up. "Carelessness-- you know Karen gets even lazier when Lance is gone; Clair never reprimands her. And her little 'Booze Nights' with Sidney sure don't help," He went through the open door, but waited for Steven before descending. "I bet you anything that's where she was. Drinking her damned face off--"

Wallace cut himself off as he heard the door open from the floor just below them, Karen emerging barely dressed through its door. Wallace seethed at her appearance; she couldn't even be bothered to wear shoes? "Speak of the devil," he growled, catching her attention.

Looking up, Karen's face scrunched a little when she spotted the Limp Noodle and his Fop. "Oh. I'm guessing you're heading down to the Police Station, too, huh?" By the look of their faces, they had already heard the news. "You seen Sid? Can't seem to find him."

"It's, um... it's a walkman," the brat mumbled, visibly nervous as he swallowed. Clair could've drank his fear like coffee and loved every sip of it. "A music player.  It's-- music's important to me, so... it helps to have it around when things are quiet.  Gives me some white noise and makes the hallways a lot less... empty."

"A music player? Ooooh one of those portable things! Oh they're so cute!" Clair gushed over the Walkman like it was a fluffy kitten, jabbing her hand out without warning and yanking it off Wally's belt. She poked at the buttons, lightly shook it, ejected the tape and put it back in; anything to make him feel more uneasy than he already was.

"Although ... hmm..." She clicked her tongue thoughtfully as she looked from the Walkman to Wally, raising her eyebrows. "As adorable as this thing is, I'm afraid the use of electronic devices while one is on their shift isn't allowed, sweetie." She tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Not only is it a health and safety hazard, but they've been known to distract workers from their jobs, and slow them down. We can't afford to fall behind schedule, Wally dear. I'm sure you understand."

She began carelessly tossing the Walkman from one hand to the other. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it off your hands for the rest of the day, honey. Don't worry, I'll take good care of it, and you can come and collect it at the end of your shift."

Well ... as long as nothing terrible happened to it before then, of course.

((Please skip me; I am afraid I have nothing to do this round.))

She's... this was unbelievable. Wally watched her expression shift to sheer delight. "A music player? Ooooh one of those portable things! Oh they're so cute!"

And for a moment he believed that this conversation was mostly done and he would have gone exactly one interaction with Clair without some form of severe emotional pain.

Then she grabbed the walkman off his belt.  

He yelped, moving to stand up as she fiddled with it, pressing buttons, shaking it, ejecting the tape and then popping it back in, and touching it entirely too much.  

"Although ... hmm..." Her gaze shifted to him, and his words died in his throat. "As adorable as this thing is, I'm afraid the use of electronic devices while one is on their shift isn't allowed, sweetie."

What!? No! Since when!?  

"Not only is it a health and safety hazard, but they've been known to distract workers from their jobs, and slow them down. We can't afford to fall behind schedule, Wally dear. I'm sure you understand."

"I-- stop--!" She was tossing it back and forth between her hands, and he reached out to stop her.  

No I can't touch her what if she breaks it on purpose then what if what if-- He drew his arms inward to his chest, staring at her with a pinched, frightened look that he couldn't hide even if he had the pretense of mind to try.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it off your hands for the rest of the day, honey. Don't worry, I'll take good care of it, and you can come and collect it at the end of your shift."

"I-it's not against the r-rules! I've never been told that even when I was being trained for the job! If it were a rule I would've been told!" He reached out with one hand, the appendage trembling. "Look please just give it back okay; it's mine and you don't have any right to just take it; this isn't high school." Surely employers weren't allowed to just confiscate things!?

She wasn't even his employer!

((My apologies, but there isn't much for me to do. Skip, please.))

"Laziness, Wallace spat, his own frustrations rising in his voice. "Carelessness-- you know Karen gets even lazier when Lance is gone; Clair never reprimands her. And her little 'Booze Nights' with Sidney sure don't help." Steven flinched as he reached the bottom of the stairs and passed the door that his friend was holding open for him.

Sidney was a good friend, but legends knew he needed whipping into shape on a regular basis. The thought that one of his own Elite Four might've been behind the failed security measures made him feel sick. "I bet you anything that's where she was. Drinking her damned face off--"

Speak of the devil, Steven thought with a twinge of anxiety, Wallace almost immediately mirroring his thoughts aloud, as Karen stepped into view. She looked as though she'd literally just stepped out of the shower and just thrown any old thing on just to cover her modesty. Was she really one of the heads of security, given how ridiculously laid-back she was? Whose decision had that been? Wasn't his, that was for certain.

... All right, given Sidney, he was being a hypocrite. At least slightly. At least Sidney, mess as he is, dresses completely before going on duty, though!

"Oh. I'm guessing you're heading down to the Police Station, too, huh?" Karen said as she climbed the stairs towards them. Steven barely moved a muscle; she knew about...last night. Of course she did; the way she and Clair had conversed that morning made it all too obvious. He felt his stomach start to flip. He had spent the day afraid of what Clair would say, but... would she say anything? "You seen Sid? Can't seem to find him."

"No." Steven forced his words out, trying hard to sound as calm as possible. It didn't look good when one of HQ's leaders started freaking out. Hopefully, he was doing a good job. "I haven't seen him at all this morning. A messenger has been sent to gather all the necessary people for the investigation. If he's around, he'll be here soon...and so will Clair."

Clair. And a murder. A dangerous person let loose in their city and he would not only have to figure all of this out before anyone else came to harm, but would have to work alongside her to do that. Why must fate find the most spectacular ways of smacking you in the face?

This was going to be a very long day.

"No." Steven snapped, the word terse. Wallace approved of the tone, but it didn't seem to affect Karen at all, frustratingly enough. She was probably still too drunk to really realize just how deep in shit she really was. "I haven't seen him at all this morning. A messenger has been sent to gather all the necessary people for the investigation. If he's around, he'll be here soon...and so will Clair."

Karen nodded and shrugged, padding easily up the stairs with the CD in hand. Wallace's eyes and nostrils flared at the pure disrespect, his fury igniting at the repulsive display. She made it up to them easily, her still damp clothes clinging to her shamelessly. Wallace scoffed. "Can't you give enough of a shit about your job to put on shoes, or, I don't know, a bra?" he growled, folding his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. "A man has been murdered and you can't be bothered to finish dressing."

Karen let the scolding roll off of her, however, which only succeeded in infuriating Wallace further. "Get the dildo out of your ass and untwist your panties, please," Karen griped back, Wallace's face flushing red. "I get that this is serious, but it's not like me dressing up will change the fact that the dude is super dead now, will it? No. So extract your claws and keep them to yourself, kay, thanks." Wallace nearly hissed at her as he took in a sharp breath, but she held up a finger between them to keep him quiet. "Besides, sweetie, you're showing off more skin than I am."

"I-it's not against the r-rules!"
It is now, dearie.
"I've never been told that even when I was being trained for the job!  If it were a rule I would've been told!" He reached out with a trembling hand to grab the device but Clair moved it back out of his way, staring coldly down at him. Her devilish smile had faded; only a glare of searing hate remained. Seriously, this kid could just fucking die in front of her and she wouldn't bat an eyelid.

"Look please just give it back okay." He was begging. Clair enjoyed this. Her mouth twitched as the ghost of her grin made an appearance. "It's mine and you don't have any right to just take it; this isn't high school."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, sweetie," Clair said gently, still juggling the Walkman from one hand to the next. "You see, as Lance's deputy, I have a duty to make sure HQ's citizens do the best work that they can. I can assure you, Lance did brief me about the prohibition of electronic devices; I'm guessing he was simply too busy to share it with anyone else. Hm." She tilted her head and tutted. "Shame."

"The way I see it, you have two options," she went on, having more fun than she had in a while. Not even a drunken binge or a wild night in the bedroom came close to this. "You can either keep your mouth shut and collect it at the end of your shift, like I said, or you can-- whoops!"

With an exaggerated lunge, Clair pretended the Walkman was falling out of her grasp. For a moment, it fell towards the ground, but she lashed out at the last moment and caught it before it smashed.

"Or," she continued as if nothing had just happened, straightening up, "this thing will end up under my boot. All right, dear?"

---

He was trapped under a Snorlax. Or a train. Or a damn 747. Either way, it was not possible to feel so flattened, so deflated, without a several ton something sitting on top of you. Sidney groaned as he slowly woke up, but then regretted it; his head felt like it had a minefield going off inside it. BANG, BANG, BANG. What the hell was that?! Was someone having a shootout beside his bed? How fucking rude. Why couldn't they just let him die with dignity?

BANG, BANG, BANG. Could whoever it was please quieten the fuck down? Sidney felt like his head was going to blow up, fall off or something similar. Just how much did he drink last night? He was surprised his liver wasn't crying out its agony. "Kill me," it'd be screaming. "Just kill me now!"

OK, someone was at the door; that's what the thunderous banging noise was. Sidney hoisted himself up onto his arms, wincing at the effort. Dear legends, he was dying, he was sure of it. He'd had one drink too many. He'd open the door and just drop dead in front of whatever poor soul was standing there. He had to get up though, but he wasn't sure the aircraft on top of him would cooperate.

Forcing his eyes open, Sidney spotted the blurry figure of Judas, his Houndoom, dashing towards him. The Elite Fourist growled as his canine gripped hold of the bedsheets and pulled them off of him. Cold air blasted at his naked skin and he flailed into a sitting position, covering his modesty with his pillow. Judas barked at him, gesturing madly at the door.

"I'm coming," he attempted to call to whoever was waiting for him in the corridor, but all he heard was a pathetic croak. Somehow - and he had no idea how - he made his way to the door. Still using just his pillow to protect the innocence of his visitor, he flung the door open and immediately lost his balance and fell into the door frame.

"Oh, goodness," the girl standing there cried, quickly grabbing his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Dru--drink--han'over," he managed, blinking as the world slowly started to come into focus. He felt Judas nudge at his leg with a bottle of water in his jaws. "Wha--sup?"

"Um ... well, I've been sent to come and get you. There's been a murder down in the labs and they need you down there to start the investigation."

Was he still drunk? A murder down in the labs? That place was secured tighter than an old woman's purse; no way something like that would've happened. Either he was still out of it or this poor girl was stoned as fuck. "Wha--?"

"A murder. Mr Stone, Wallace and Karen are already down there. I'm just looking for Clair now." She briefly glanced over his naked-apart-from-the-pillow form and raised her eyebrows. "I'll just ... tell them you're on your way, OK?" And with that, she scurried off.

Sidney closed the door, took the bottle from Judas's mouth and drained the whole lot. His Houndoom was trotting over to his couch now, retrieving his clothes he'd dumped over it the night before and dragging them over to him. Slowly, his mind was dragging itself back into reality, the words of the messenger girl at the door whirling around in his head. A murder? Shit. This was actually pretty bad.

He dressed quickly, and considered brushing the stink of alcohol out of his mouth but decided that there was something more important to deal with right now. He could clean his teeth and shower after he learned just what the hell was going on. When had this happened? Had it been him or Karen who had assigned the security guards on whatever night it took place? Sidney's stomach flipped; this could be somehow his fault.

Almost falling out of the door, Sidney locked up and staggered off down the hallway, holding onto Judas for support. A Boeing on his back and the risk of losing his job ... damn. Today was going to be rough.

((Skip please))

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, sweetie."

Stop JUGGLING it!  He stares at her in horror, lips parting slightly as if to voice his thoughts.

"You see, as Lance's deputy, I have a duty to make sure HQ's citizens do the best work that they can. I can assure you, Lance did brief me about the prohibition of electronic devices; I'm guessing he was simply too busy to share it with anyone else. Hm."  She tilts her head and tsk-tsks, a gesture that makes Wally sick to his stomach because no stop Wallace does that you are not allowed to.

"Oh bullshit!" he squeaks, eyes never leaving his walkman.

"Shame.  The way I see it, you have two options,"  She's enjoying this, oh god, she's enjoying this.  Why.  What did he ever do to deserve this!?  "You can either keep your mouth shut and collect it at the end of your shift, like I said, or you can-- whoops!"

She nearly drops it.  Wally moves forward to grab it with a cry, but she catches it first and straightens.  Still leaning over to grab it, he looks up at her.

"Or this thing will end up under my boot. All right, dear?"

His heart is pounding in his ears.  His mother's last present to him, and she has it.  What more can he do?

His ears burn in shame.  "I-if I do that, will you not break it?  And give it back to me just the way you got it?"  He could point out that he can tell Steven about this, but now isn't the time.  Better to try to persuade her first.  If I pull the Steven card too early she might get pissed and just smash it immediately.

Wallace and Karen wasted no time in getting at each other's throats. Steven agreed with his friend about the Dark master's attire - or rather, lack of it - but really could've done without listening to them bicker. He tensed, pinching his forehead, and leaned against the wall for support. Boom, boom, boom. His head felt as though it were going to explode.

"Can't you give enough of a shit about your job to put on shoes, or, I don't know, a bra? A man has been murdered and you can't be bothered to finish dressing."

"Get the dildo out of your ass and untwist your panties, please. I get that this is serious, but it's not like me dressing up will change the fact that the dude is super dead now, will it? No. So extract your claws and keep them to yourself, kay, thanks. Besides, sweetie, you're showing off more skin than I am."

"Please," Steven abruptly barked, harsher than he intended to. That incessant pounding in his head was only getting worse. "Both of you. This is not the time to be arguing over something as ridiculous as... clothes."

With a sigh he hoisted his weight back onto his legs, twisting his tense neck as he listened to an unsteady pair of feet wobble down the stairs towards them. Looked as though Sidney had got the message after all.

"Please." The two bickering trainers turned at Steven's abrupt snap, both mildly surprised at the tone. "Both of you. This is not the time to be arguing over something as ridiculous as...clothes." Wallace's frown deepened as Karen's brow lifted a bit. She glared at the Water Master, scoffing lightly under her breath.

"See? Even your wet noodle wants you to shut your trap," Karen growled, her tone beginning to border on dangerous.

Wallace's hands clenched into fists as he was barely able to resist the urge to slap the smug off her hungover face. "Bite your disgusting alcoholic sponge of a tongue. He is a CHAMPION and you will show some freaking respect!"

But the rage in Wallace's voice did nothing to shake Karen's stubborn indifference. She scoffed again and rolled her eyes. "He's not my Champion." Wallace's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the display of sheer disrespect, unable to speak as she pushed her way past both to exit the stairwell and continue on her way. Wallace took in a deep, long breath, his lips pursed and face red with fury.

"I swear to God, when Lance gets back, I'm going to give that ginger shithead a piece of my mind!" he roared, his balled fists trembling with the force of his anger. His eyes snapped down to spot Sidney barely able to make his way along the staircase, and he seriously contemplated throwing something to hit that shiny, obnoxious bald head. Fortunately for Sidney, he had nothing on his person. Lucky bastard. He turned back to Steven and followed his lead to the station in Karen's wake. "Steven, this bullshit with the Kanto and Johto people needs to stop. Even when he's away, Lance is making your life a living hell! You know he's bound to approve this kind of behavior against you!"