Chain stood a few paces from the door of the Pokemon Center, a strange coldness growing within him as he heard the announcement. Only seven trainers . . . So few withstood the attacks yesterday? Chain strode into the Pokemon Center, the gold of his eyes gaining an eerie, icy luminescence that resembled a chilling harvest moon. With everything that's happened, why would they continue the competition with an awards ceremony? His eyes narrowed. No. It's certain that they--or another--have a different agenda. But, it's also obvious that someone wanted to gather those seven trainers together without the public knowing that something's wrong . . .
"May I help you?"
Chain was snapped from his reverie as a voice spoke directly before him. His eyes melting to their normal hue, the male paused to take in his surroundings. Somehow he had arrived at the Pokemon Center counter, and behind that counter stood Nurse Joy.
Seeing Chain's surprise, the nurse gently repeated, "I said, may I help you?"
At the repetition of the inquiry, the trainer swiftly composed himself as he replied, "Yeah. I left two Pokemon here yesterday--an Abra and a Sneasel." As Nurse Joy started to motion the nearest Chansey toward her, he added, "My friend left two Pokemon here, too. They were . . . " What Pokemon does Kyoko have, anyway? Last night, she said-- "An Espeon and a Minun." I think.
"My Pokemon should be registered under the name Chain Quaixer, while hers should be registered under the name Kyoko. Sorry, but I don't know her last name." Though she seemed almost suspicious due to Chain's most recent comment, Nurse Joy merely smiled as she turned toward the Chansey that now stood beside her. "Chansey, could you get the Pokemon from the back room for me?"
"Chansey, Chans!" The pale Pokemon smiled and nodded as it waddled off. Within minutes, the Chansey had returned, bearing a tray of four Pokeballs.
Removing the objects from the tray, Nurse Joy handed them to Chain, saying, "Here you go. All your Pokemon have been fully healed. And, by the way, congratulations."
"Hn?" After accepting the items, Chain glanced up, confused.
"Your name is one of the seven displayed on the Pokemon Center's digital scoreboard," the nurse explained as she motioned toward a nearby flatscreen. Chain's gaze followed her movement, resting on the screen as he briefly studied the listed names. Most of those names seem familiar . . . Probably those people I was on the tour with yesterday. His glance shifted faintly. Looks like I'm second to last. Not surprising. I spent most of my time trying to avoid being caught by security. As he continued to stare in silence, a faint change briefly entered Chain's expression. In any event, it seems I might be allowed a closer view of the "ceremony" today than I previously expected. However . . .
Turning toward Nurse Joy, Chain nodded slightly, briefly stating, "Thanks." Indicating one direction with a slight wave of his hand, he asked, "Is it alright if I use the Center phones? Or, did the lockdown . . . "
"It's alright to use the phones," Nurse Joy assured him. "A number of trainers have already called their friends and family. But, we do ask that you disclose as little information regarding yesterday's event as possible."
"I understand." Chain made his way toward the video phones, clicking two of the Pokeballs he obtained onto his belt as he palmed the two Lovely Balls. Lifting the receiver, he feigned dialing as he tilted his head slightly forward to prevent any security cameras from viewing his mouth. Meanwhile, a thin--almost invisible--ruby beam of light was projected from his spiked wristband into the phone port. "Circuit, there's something I need you to do for me," the trainer said quietly, though not in so low a tone as to draw undue attention.
"Use the phone lines to find your way into a computer, and go back into WaiWai Inc's systems. I can't be there to direct you, so you'll need to gather data alone. Download anything promising--especially anything related to Omicron or anything that might explain the strange data sheets. Check the locked files first, since whatever we're after will probably be under tight security. As an insurance, though, upload the files from yesterday into one of my spare storage accounts on the net . . . Leverage, you might say."
After a moment of thought, Chain continued, "Keep a watch on WaiWai Inc.'s security cameras. I'll be at the building today at ten o'clock. Also, if you are able, get any recent footage the cameras recorded. If you are in an emergency, contact me--but not otherwise, and I'll do the same to you. Alright?"
A series of digital beeps provided Porygon's response.
"Good . . . Sorry, Circuit. I know it seems like a lot. But, remember this: Your top priority is not being caught. Be as a subtle as possible. And, if necessary, flee. Good luck."
He hung up.
