"Ah, yes. The Mauville Attack. Forrest commanded Syressa and I to remain outside of Ground Zero so that we could help those trying to flee the area. We managed to repel some of the people that tried to attack the civilians. I teleported a few groups of people further away from Ground Zero."
Shaq'ti thought the images she remembered from the attack. The darkness of the night popped with flashes of bright light. It was difficult to not become disoriented. Shaq'ti's visions faded to faint outlines of living forms in a sea of darkness. She had closed her eyes at some point so she could focus on who to save and who to protect against. A few faces that did show through were clear. A little girl and a teenage boy - brother and sister. A terrified couple - two women. An elderly man and his granddaughter. A pod of Azurill. Their faces were heartbreaking to the faint of heart. Their injuries made Shaq'ti's heart pound.
"- Shaq'ti..."
"Yes?"
"Come get us out of here. Rangers are coming and I need to get healed up."
The image of a young man appeared, definitively not a Ranger nor Forrest. He had a long slash down his back, but he was still up and fighting with his Charmeleon. Damselraed had formed an Aqua Ring around the young man as he fought, which appeared understandably difficult.
"Who's that? He needs attention, too. Damselraed's trying to heal him."
"Dunno."
"He's down."
His body was on the ground and blood seeped out of his skin on his back while surges of electricity sparked off his skin for a moment. Damselraed grew more frantic in trying to stabilize him.
"All right. Get him, too."
"Sturm okay?"
She quickly reached her mind out toward the giant generator where Mr. Sturm and his Plusle and Minun were. The two Pokemon were exerting all of their ability to control the exposed electricity back into the generator and to prevent the pathway from being severed. His Manectric mauled and shocked people and Pokemon all around him. He and his Pokemon appeared generally unharmed.
"Yes."
"Get us out of this bitch."
The image flashed a marbled light purple and white. It then faded to the calm scenery of a clear starry night above a log cabin surrounded by gardens and grass then surrounded by large and tall trees. Forrest and the young man were on the ground while their Pokemon stood above them. The front door opened the the silhouette of a woman appeared in the doorway. "Jeanne" echoed softly in a quiet feminine voice that was not Shaq'ti's.
The vision took no more than a few seconds to complete. Shaq'ti remained silent until they arrived at Box Row.
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"Yes, sir. Of course," the Ranger said and bowed slightly.
"Of course, sir. Right away," the Ranger said and saluted.
The Rangers may have seemed oddly obsequious. But murmurs and wandering thoughts would reveal that all the Rangers learned of Mr. Aeros presence at the Headquarters and were almost afraid to displease him or make his time there more difficult that it needed to be. There was a level of respect, and a hint of fear, that surrounded their knowledge of this. The rumors that the Elite Four member was present during the Wharf Raid spread and intuitively knew he had involved himself intimately enough to arrive at the Headquarters immediately after.
Several Boxes were occupied with other lackeys being questioned. Any kind of probing would have revealed that they regretted being caught more than anything else. Swirling emotions of fear and regret filled the air. Many of them appeared to have been coerced or blackmailed into working under Jonton.
Before Tristan finished his thought, a gurney rolled into the room with an unconscious Jonton with his clothes removed and covered only in a white sheet. He was heavily bruised, but any of the blood had been cleaned off. He somehow looked uglier lying down.
"Mr. Aeros, sir. Major White," the man said after he placed the gurney in the center of the room. He stood erect and saluted with respect as he introduced himself. "I received word that you ordered food. It will arrive soon. What is it that you need, sir?"
He acted very familiar with Tristan though both knew they had never interacted before. The Elite Four's reputation always preceded them. For Tristan, more than that single reputation preceded him here.
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Jonton was constantly on the move. Several memories surfaced of his discovering several of the eliminated undercover agents Tristan had seen in the file. He could now verify three of the agents that had been labeled as "missing" could be updated as "dead" and find their bodies for proper closure. He had bases all over Hoenn. He spent most of his time at the Wharf, the Slateport Junkyard, Fallarbor Town, Route 123, the Central Desert, and a small island on Route 130. There was a constant reference to Southern Island, but none of his memories ever had him there.
Probing deeper would result in the appearance of a silhouette of a man - entirely black. Jonton's visions were often hazy, but they were full of color and individual's faces were clear. This was certainly strange. Never had Tristan's Pokemon seen a memory be hidden in such a way. It suggested the memory had been tampered with as they probed deeper.
All color faded - everything became black. A dome surrounded them of a crystalline structure. There was no sound or smell or feel to the place. It took all of them, as well as Shaq'ti, to push on the weak points of this kind of mental prison they found themselves in. They had to exert almost all of their consciousness at an equal pressure and simultaneously at many different points. Jonton's mind had most definitely been manipulated to hide the identity of this man. It had to be significant.
The dome shattered. They were deafened by the high-pitched sound of glass breaking all around them. They were blinded by the impossibly bright flash of white that resulted in this prison being broken. When they could recover, the image of a giant floating Gorebyss appeared in front of them. They were still in the void of black.
Oracle reacted violently to this image. She was overwhelmed with the vision she had about the future. It played in her mind dozens of times within a second. It focused on the image of the man flanked by a Gorebyss and Huntail. The vision progressively focused on the Gorebyss.
The man was clear, though. He appeared early-mid 30's. He wore a plain navy vest and dress pants. His white button-up shirt looked clean-pressed and the sleeves were rolled to below his elbows. He wore shiny black leather laced shoes. His face was vacant of any emotion. His skin was pale and without blemishes. His hair was brown and undercut and combed straight back which suggested it was rather long. His eyes seemed to glow aquamarine. His brows were thick yet sharp. His nose was fine and long and proportional to his face. His chin and jaw were defined, though not too wide. Elegant stubbled grew across his face. His ears were a little smaller than one might expect. He looked respectably athletic in build. He would look beautiful if the air of terror didn't surround the image.
Pisces.
All of the Pokemon were shunted out of the memory as Oracle was, once again, locked in this vision. Though it would have been much shorter, the physical and mental toll it took on her was exponentially greater this time. She struggled to not go insane.
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"I demand you release him to me. He should be home recuperating from this barbarism," she said and gestured to the whole of Box Row to imply that what they were doing was barbarous.
Lady Fairfax was kept out of the box and refused entry into it while Tristan and his team "worked" on him. She appeared indignant and impatient, but not terribly emotional or concerned with the man's well-being. Still, everyone knew of her connections, her influence, and her money. She kept asking how much it would cost to take him home.
"I'm sorry, my Lady. You can't be down here. This area is restricted," Major White said with a hint of worry in his voice.
"I go where I please, thank you," she said with all of the patience in the world. "I will be leaving with him, now."
Her level of calm was unnerving. She was commanding them without having the proper authority to do so, and all parties were very much aware of this. She stood still with her arms crossed.
"This isn't legal. You can't keep him without representation."
"This is well within the legal limits of what we are allowed to do considering the circumstances." Major White struggled to regain a level of confidence in himself and his station and his authority.
"We'll see about that. You have no proof. And anything you gain from all of this can't be proven without physical evidence."
"Ma'am," he said with more authority now. His patience was fading and his confidence was recuperating from his initial surprise of her visit. "We are gathering all of the evidence we need to keep him here for as long as we please. You are not allowed down here," he added and looked down the hall.
"Lieutenants, please escort Mrs. Fairfax off the premises."
Referring to her as "Mrs." instead of "Lady" made her visibly fume with anger as she found the title wholly insulting. The article she had submitted to The Daily Rust outlined her reasons why in great detail.
Because Major White had regained his confidence and authority, the Lieutenants felt confident to physically escort Lady Fairfax off the Headquarter's campus entirely.
Any wandering telepathy would hear her repeat "this is bad" over and over again.
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