'... because of the witness' heavy involvement in the case, his statement was withdrawn and the defendant was released this afternoon. Meanwhile, his Houndoom, nicknamed 'Skulls', remains in custody after he tried to escape. Fortunately, Law Enforcement's Growlithe Squad...'
"What are you doing, Whistler?"
Benjamin quickly whipped his head around, like he did when he heard his name. He went by a few names around here; Ben, Benny, Benji, Benny-Boy, Ben the Man (with an attempt at rhyming), Butt-face... the list went on. And on. Benjamin never paid much attention to it. He wasn't sure if it was a sign of friendship or it was degrading. Either way, at least someone was paying attention to him.
"Wr-writing an article." Benjamin looked at his computer then back to Gregory Dawson. Though, everybody called him Greg. When he didn't interrupt or respond, Benjamin tried to explain himself with hand gestures. "For the Skulls case. Y'know, th-the robber with the Houndoom."
"I know what you're talking about. But, what are you doing?" The emphasis on the what made Benjamin confused. Didn't he just say?
"Writing the, the p--"
"Whistler," Gregory slapped a hand on the desk, "do you understand what I'm saying?"
"No sir, no sir." Benjamin shook his head violently.
"Why are you letting the editor boss you around?" Benjamin didn't stutter back a reply, instead furrowed his brow, trying his best to look confused. Gregory gave up almost instantly.
"Ugh, don't worry." Gregory threw his hands in the air and started to walk off. "You know, you could write the entire paper if everyone asked you to write their articles too. Do you even get paid?"
"Benny-Boy!" The editor interrupted before Benjamin could answer, booming across the cubicles, his arms spread like he was expecting a hug and a cigar firmly gripped in his teeth. He was a fat man, no one could deny it. He was also very smelly, very lazy and sometimes, acted like he was very rich. He might have been, but he certainly didn't dress like it. "Benjamin Whistler, just the boy who I want to see."
"Good luck." Gregory skulked off, slapping Benjamin quite hard on the back. He fell forward, his face hittng the keyboard.
'...he tried to escape. Fortunately, Law Enforcement's Growlithe Squad quickly aprehended the subject anskfnsdkfsldkfdaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa eeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aa
a'!@$@@@
"You right, Benny?" The editor also slapped Benjamin on the back but thanks to the last attack, he was a little more prepared.
"Yes sir, yes sir. F-fine sir." Benjamin pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked up at the ugly face of his editor. The cigar wasn't even lit, the editor was just sucking on it.
"Good! Good boy," The editor grinned, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. "Now, Benny, listen, how long have you been working here?"
"Uh," it had been two years, three months and six days. He hadn't been counting, he had just done the math. That's all, "ab-about two years, s-sir."
"And in all of that time," the editor's voice was unusually loud, like he was annoucing something to the entire team. Nobody really bothered to listen; it wasn't unnatural for the editor to try and pull everyone's attention away from whatever they were doing. Benjamin had seen it as well, only last week had he almost shouted that Joseph was getting a payrise for the great front-page article he had written. Benjamin wasn't sure whether he was boasting or trying to encourage people to work. Whatever it was, Benjamin knew something good was going to follow. If it was bad news, the editor would have pulled him into his office to yell at him or that toothy grin wouldn't have been painted across his face, "have you ever had an oppourtunity to really, really shine?"
"W-well sir, I did write your fr-front page article l-last we--"
"No, I didn't think so! Benjamin Whistle, I'd to give you something you can really sink your teeth in, how does that sound?"
"What d-do you mean, s-sir?"
The editor pulled up a seat next to Benjamin, his stench becoming far more pronouced, and lowered his voice to the usual speaking level. Was this whispering for the editor?
"Benny, have you heard... of Apollo?"
"Yes-yes-yes sir." Who hadn't? Apollo was the Santa Claus of mysteries. As a child, you wanted to believe in it all. That this place had been rebuilt by Pokémon, that there was enough gold there to let you live as a trillionaire forever. And, of course, Benjamin had also heard of Dr. Stone's death and his annoucement. It had been everywhere. It was a dumb question really. "What about it?"
"Well, Benny-Boy, on the other side of that door," the editor nodded towards his office door, "is a great woman and a very, very old friend of mine. The great archeologist, Doctor Hazel Jacobi. Heard of her?"
"Yes s-sir." Also a dumb question. Hazel Jacobi was the most famous archeologists in the world. That was like asking if Benjamin knew what a Pikachu was. He worked in journalism and reading and writing was what Benjamin did.
"Well, ol' Hazel has offered me an oppourtunity. A fantastic oppourtunity, in fact. He wants me, legendary reporter, journalist, editor and writer, Harry Johnson, to record the events going on in Apollo while she sends a team of variously skilled people to find this 'treasure'." The editor seemed pretty excited about it. Too excited. Fake excited. "Unfortunately, Benny, I have a wife. Two darling sons. A family. As much as I would want to wisk myself away to an adventure island, I just can't. So, Benny, I want you to go."
"M-me?" The idea was a little confusing to Benjamin. He wasn't his best writer but the editor often had him writing stories that he was meant to write. Of course, Benjamin had always thought he did this because he was intern. Like, it was his moral obligation to kiss the editor's butt. Benjamin didn't question it though; oppourtunities are what kept interns alive.
"Yes, Benny. Right now, I need you to go talk to Hazel," the editor pulled Benjamin out of his chair and pushed him along the hall. "She's a nice lady, just don't get on her bad side." The editor pushed him again, this time Benjamin hit the wall directly next to the editor's office. He could feel his heart starting to beat rapidly. "You can't disappoint me, Benji. If you get this, you could write a book. Hell, you could even find the treasure. Then we'd-- you'd be rich!" Another thrust of the editor and Benjamin was flat against the door. Man, he had no physical strength at all.
"Get in there!"
Rubbing his neck, Benjamin opened the door, went inside and closed it behind him. He exhaled then turned around to see a Dr. Hazel Jacobi sitting behind the editor's desk, sipping a hot cup of tea she hugged in her hands. She looked up, looking a little confused but didn't object to Benjamin's presence.
"Why, hello there." She smiled pleasantly. "Please, sit," she said, motioning to the guest chair in front of the desk. Benjamin complied and sat, his eyes darting everywhere but Dr. Jacobi's eyes. He felt too scared to talk. Too scared to breathe. Was this what it felt like to be star struck? "Now, uh, who are you, young man?"
"B-Benj-jamin Whis-Whistler." Benjamin felt a lot more stuttery than usual. Well, not stuttery. Benjamin usually referred to his stutter as 'repeating words'. "B-Benjamin Whistler, miss."
"Nice to meet you, Benjamin. Now, where has the editor gone to?"
"U-uh?" Dr. Jacobi gave a little chuckle at Benjamin's response.
"Deary me, what a sly fox he is." When Benjamin's face grew more confused, Dr. Jacobi waved a hand. "No, don't worry about it. Carrying on, Benjamin, as you may know, I'm looking for a writer for this expedition. I'm sending a variety of people to Apollo to try and find this treasure. You know the one I'm talking about?"
"Y-y-yes, yes, yes miss."
"Excellent, that makes things easier. Good." She nodded as she took another sip out of her tea cup. "I need a writer to write about everything they see. Clues, funny symbols, historical monuments; I need this all. This person is expected to keep a journal on them at all times, take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Do you understand?"
"Yes miss."
"Right. Do you think you could do that for me, Benjamin? I guess because you're in here, ol' Harry thinks you're one of his best. That's a good sign, he knows a good writer when he sees one. And you're young too, you can get around on this island. You need to be ready for everything. You understand?"
"Yes, of c-c-course, Dr. Jacobi, miss."
"Very good." She took another sip. Benjamin began to doubt that it was just tea. "You could become very rich and famous at the end of this. A book? A documentary? You'd certainly be out of a small newspaper like this. Would you like that?"
"V-very much s-s-s-so, miss. Yes, yes miss."
"Very good, Benjamin. And, as a gift or something," Dr. Jacobi handed a backpack over at Benjamin as he stood up to leave. Benjamin peered inside. There seemed to be the bare essentials in here, plus a very nice camera, a leather bound notebook and some pens. And... was that? Was that a full PokéBall? No way, "here is a bag with what you need. I suspect you may need to do some planning and prior reading, Benjamin. It's going to be a long trip!"
Benjamin stood up as Dr. Jacobi opened the door. His mouth had finally found confidence.
"Thank y-you so much, m-miss for giving, giving me this oppourt-tunity. I, I promise not, not to let y-you down," she put a hand up to silence the boy.
"You are most welcome. I'm sure you deserve this. Good luck," and with that, Dr. Jacobi exited and walked down the hall taking her teacup with her. The editor was there almost the very second that Dr. Jacobi's footsteps could not be heard any longer.
"You did it!! You did it, boy!! We're gonna be rich!!!"