It was quite a scene in the terminal room.
Researchers on the outside wall of the room abandoned their stations and began to flee with their arms dangling behind their sprinting selves. The glowing buttons of the wall panels displayed beautiful, chromatic patterns. One after another, there seemed to be some sort of code to their synthetic display. The blue glow of the terminals collided with the red of the sirens above. The room became a purple catastrophe. Cries of trainers young and old overpowered the alarm system. The sound of mechanical seats squeaking could be heard as everyone abandoned their places. Letters dashed across screens for nobody to witness. How many trainers had been put on pause? The number was unknown to all. Some of the braver souls rushed to the scene of battle. Poké Balls came soaring in from all directions, the novice cries of Pidgeys, Mankey, Caterpie, and other starter Pokémon blasting the area. A mix of reactions were had upon viewing the Arbok. Some charged forward, others cowered. Most stood their ground, waiting for someone else to make a move.
Holly escorted herself from the group. She literally turned, nonchalantly at that, away from the approaching Arbok. She walked toward the nearest, unoccupied seat (all of them were unoccupied at this point) and ascended to a higher point. Her bare feet sunk into the plastic cushion and bounced lightly into the material. The pen she held danced across the pages on her clipboard. Holly would lower her kaleidoscope glasses, observe a detail in the room, and then return to her meticulous note taking. What was she writing?
To the relief of a room of beating hearts, a Pokémon wreathed in flame put an end to the assaulting, purple cobra. Men in buttoned, white uniform with at least one Poké Ball on their belts soon stormed into the terminal room. They were each armed with fire extinguishers, sprinting valiantly toward the Arbok lit aflame. They shot gusts of repellant in its fleeing direction. Each took their turn, maintaining their distance unless absolutely necessary to approach the Pokémon. The crowd was smitten awe-struck as the Cyndaquil’s trainer came leaping forth, planting his foot into a now unconscious grunt. And in another swift motion, the spooked Arbok had been placed into its Poké Ball. It was no easy feat to accurately return a Pokémon, let alone one that was running at full speed. Immediately, cheers from the crowd came roaring forth as a wave. Intermittent questions and concerns were mixed in with the overwhelming praise.
“Wow! Which Pokémon is that?”“It must be rare!”“I’ve never even heard of that Pokémon before!”“Did you see that flying kick? Awesome!”“Who’s that trainer?”“MARRY ME.”“How can something so cute do so much damage?”“Good thing that fire didn’t spread anywhere!”As the barrage of banter continued to emanate from the crowd, it suddenly hit a wall.
CLANG.
The crowd began to simmer down.
CLANG.
With each clash of metal singing, the uproar of the collective trainers began to die down. Something was approaching from the titanium stairs outside the room.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
From the entrance to the terminal room, a hulking individual in open yellow coat appeared on the scene. His thin lips rolled the gnarred wood of a pipe he smoked. A brown, cloth hat beckoned the pipe smoke into its narrow chambers. Rosy cheeks betrayed the distant, pale eyes of an experienced sailor. One who had seen too many oceans below the sunrise. Or perhaps, too few. His white, thick eyebrows were curved ever downward. A steel boot took one of many steps forward.
CLANG.
“Aye, who’n be t’ swarty individual threat’nin me crew abov’ twenty fathoms of silent sea…”Holly hopped from her elevated vantage point, her footsteps being the only noise in the room at the moment. She took a position beside the professor, as if she had done this routinely, handing him the clipboard that she had been writing on so vigorously before.
"Details of the incident, written in full." The captain took his time through each sheet, much unlike Holly. His pale eyes surfed the pages, one often being closed. At times, he placed the board much closer to his face to get a better work. He never once removed the pipe from his mouth, despite the ashes being so close to the flammable page. It was an awkward silence that nobody in the crowd chose to remove.
“Good work, Holly. Y’know where t’ tak’em”Holly nodded silently, taking the clipboard he offered in one arm. She approached the unconscious grunt in the middle of a ring of people. Squatting low, her hand dug underneath the small of the man’s back. She
tossed him onto her unburdened shoulder. Not appearing to be under strain in the slightest, Holly continued to the door at normal pace. Her eyes were transfixed on the clipboard until she approached the first step of the metal stairs to the deck. Her wild lenses returned to face the group of people.
“Please continue with your registration. I will return shortly to address questions.”And with that, she ascended the stairs, only a faint sound of footsteps being heard as the criminal was carried away. Halted gasps and failures to say anything came unanimously from the watching crowd. Palm, rather than following Holly, instead approached Kristoff, leading a small army of individuals clad in white uniforms be hind him. His raven’s eye returned to face the people, pipe smoke obscuring the brunt of it.
“See ye’ all fer dinner, hmm...”He waved them off, non-verbally gesturing them to return to their seats after the squabble. It was not so much a gesture of shooing, but a farewell of little effort. Researchers filled the room with technological sound, their stations occupied once again. A confused murmur turned into normal chattering as the crowd dispersed. Squeaks of chairs were heard as trainers continued their quest.
“He’s not as… charming as I thought he’d be.”“What a stiff.”“Did you see his leg! Wow!”“Well, maybe the dinner will go better.”“Should I really be here?”“MARRY ME.”Professor Palm placed a calloused, wrinkled hand on the shoulder of Kristoff. The handle of his pipe skewed to the side as the faintest of smiles crept on his lips. He nodded at the Cyndaquil, rosy dimples forming on his face.
“S’ I’hear yer’ t’ ones who’s savin’ me crew.”The hand on Kristoff’s shoulder raised and patted the trainer a couple of times, now gripping tighter upon final impact, shaking lightly from front to back.
“Let me honor y’ at the dinner tis evenin'. Nothin’ special, just m’thanks.”The men behind him seemed to be at ease, but they remained nonetheless. The captain met Kristoff’s eyes in full force, the smoke of his corneas containing a thousand things unseen by any other, less adventurous people. Despite the glare of his eyes, his touch was warm and seemed to comfort you, as the rocking of a ship may lull someone with sea legs to sleep. He remained here, awaiting your reply.
"N' o' course, I can't forget t' ones who'n outed the criminal," Palm said. Sly eyes arced to rest upon Havoc, Arren, and Vuduin. Somehow, you felt as though he could look at the lot of you all at once.
