The bus hummed steadily beneath us, the rhythm of wheels on asphalt lulling most passengers into silence. I sat by the window, the damp Oregon landscape blurring past. Zoey had sprawled across an empty seat next to me, her illusion shimmering faintly as she disguised herself as a bored teenager with earbuds in.
Trilla sat beside me, hands folded tightly in her lap. She hadn't spoken much since we left Portland. Finally, I broke the silence. How long were you on your own?
Her eyes stayed fixed on the seat in front of us. Long enough to forget what it feels like to belong anywhere.
I frowned, waiting, but she didn't elaborate. "Your old trainer…"
Her shoulders tensed.
He wasn't a bad man, not at first. Just… lost. Some nights he'd talk like everything was fine, and other nights he'd sit in the dark for hours, saying nothing at all.
She swallowed hard, gaze unfocused. After a while, I stopped trying to reach him. The smell of his house changed. The air changed. So did he.
I stayed quiet, letting her take her time.
I thought… maybe if I stayed, it would get better. It never did.
Her voice wavered, a tremor breaking through the calm.
One night, he dropped my ball. I remember hearing it crack on the floor… and then nothing. When I woke up, he was gone.
The hum of the bus filled the silence that followed.
I wanted to ask more, but the look in her eyes, distant, shimmering with something heavier than pain, told me not to.
"That's fine," I said softly. "You don't have to talk about it."
She looked at me then, blue-green eyes tired but searching. You really mean it?
"Of course," I said. "You're safe now. We'll take this one step at a time."
Her hands unclenched just a little. She leaned against the window, watching the gray blur of highway roll by. It's been a long time since I've had someone believe me.
Zoey cracked an eye open from her nap and muttered in my head, If anyone tries to hurt her again, they'll regret it.
I smiled faintly. For the first time since we'd boarded, I let myself relax into the hum of the bus and the steady presence of my team.
The bus hissed as it rolled into the Seattle terminal just past noon. The city loomed behind it, glass towers stabbing into the clouds, streets slick with drizzle, and traffic already snarled in every direction.
Zoey was the first to stand, understandably stretching like she'd been cooped up for hours. Finally! Let's crush Lenora today and be done with it.
I hauled my bag onto my shoulder and gave her a flat look. "Yeah, no. We're not stumbling into a gym match smelling like stale bus farts."
She groaned. Atrea, come on. Her Stoutland's tough, sure, but I can shred her Watchog before it even blinks.
"Uh-huh," I said, stepping into the aisle. "And when you blow your energy out on a half-ass fight, who's gonna carry us through the rest of the challenge? Spoiler: not me."
Trilla followed us off the bus, quiet as ever, her gaze flicking from the skyscrapers to the crush of people on the sidewalk. She's right, Zoey. Pride is a poor strategy.
Zoey huffed, mane bristling. It's not pride if I'm actually that good.
I couldn't help smirking. "You tripped over a park bench in Portland."
Her head whipped toward me. That bench came out of nowhere!
I laughed as we stepped into the rain. "Look, here's the deal. Lunch, sightseeing, then we find a cheap motel and get some sleep. Tomorrow, fresh and rested, we take on Lenora. End of story."
Zoey muttered under her breath. Buzzkill.
"Love you too, sweetheart," I said, bumping her shoulder.
The drizzle hadn't let up, but the city didn't seem to notice. Seattle buzzed around us, traffic honking like a kid's clarinet recital, street musicians pounding out rhythms on overturned buckets, and the smell of roasted coffee wafting from every corner café.
Zoey trailed half a step behind me, arms folded, eyes rolling every two minutes. So this is what we're doing? Walking around looking at fish instead of beating the gym leader?
I smirked, tugging her forward toward the waterfront. "It's called sightseeing. Try it sometime."
We ducked into Pike Place Market, weaving through rows of fresh seafood and neon-lit produce stalls. Trilla slowed at every booth, her eyes wide, taking in the chaos. She lingered longest at a flower stand, running her fingers lightly over a spray of lilies.
It smells so alive here, she whispered to me.
I gave her a small smile. "Get used to it. You'll be seeing a lot more."
A commotion broke out a few feet away, a fishmonger hurled a massive salmon over the counter, another catching it clean with a laugh. Trilla startled back, eyes wide. Zoey burst out laughing, doubling over. You should've seen your face!
Trilla flushed, folding her arms. No one warned me the fish could fly.
I chuckled. "Welcome to Seattle."
By the time we checked into the motel, the neon sign outside was flickering like it was one spark away from dying. I swiped my card and nearly choked when I saw the rate.
"Sixty bucks for this dump?" I muttered. "Jesus. It better come with a free tetanus shot."
Zoey snickered, flopping onto the bed immediately. Called it.
"Not a chance," I said, tossing my bag onto the other side. "You're in the chair."
She flipped me off without looking, and I laughed harder than I had in weeks.
Trilla lingered by the window, staring out at the skyline. Her voice brushed my mind, quieter than usual. I never thought I'd see a city like this from anywhere but the outside. Thank you.
I sat back against the pillow, exhaustion finally catching up with me. "This is just the start."
Tomorrow would be a battle.
The bell over the museum door jingled as I stepped inside. Seattle's gym wasn't like Cilan's sleek arena; Lenora's gym doubled as a library, walls lined with glass cases stuffed full of fossils and relics. It smelled like dust and old books, not sweat and dirt.
Zoey padded at my side, arms crossed. Please tell me you're letting me handle this one. Watchog's a pushover, and I can mop the floor with her Stoutland.
I shook my head, clipping her ball to my belt.
Not this time. You've got Watchog, but Stoutland's hers.
Her mane bristled. What do you mean, not this time?
I want to see what Trilla can do.
She gave me a look that could've cut glass.
I smirked. Don't pout. Here's your chance.
Lenora met me at the center of the arena, her brown hair pulled back, glasses perched neatly on her nose. She smiled warmly, but her eyes were sharp.
"Welcome. You must be Atrea. I hear Cilan didn't last long against you."
"Didn't even land a hit," I said, deadpan.
"Fascinating. I take it this Zoroark is the one you battled with."
I nodded in response.
Trilla, it's Zoey's time.
She gracefully moved back to join me on our side of the field. Zoey stepped forward and howled, matching the ferocity of Lenora's partner.
Watchog tilted its head to the side as its hypnotic eyes began to swirl.
Lenora snapped her fingers, her voice sharp as steel.
"Watchog, Focus Energy, then Crunch when it closes in!"
The striped normal-type dropped low, its fangs glowing white-hot as tension built in its muscles. Across from it, Zoey stood motionless, eyes burning faintly red. The flickering light from the overhead fixtures danced against her fur, outlining her silhouette in dark violet.
Let's play a game, she murmured in my mind, her tone razor-smooth.
Before I could answer, her body blurred, then split.
Two perfect copies of Zoey burst outward, one darted toward Watchog from the left, while the other lunged from the right. Their movements were perfectly mirrored, synchronized down to the flick of a claw. Even I had to blink twice; for a heartbeat, it looked like two Zoroark's were attacking in unison.
Lenora clenched her fist. "Watchog, turn and guard your flank!"
The rodent spun, bracing itself as both Zoeys closed in, one from the front, one from behind. Its eyes flared gold as it raised its arms to block. The twin figures collided with it simultaneously, then vanished.
The impact exploded into twin clouds of smoke, curling into the air like burnt ink.
"Wha-?!" Lenora started.
I saw it then, just a flicker of shadow off to the left.
The real Zoey erupted from the haze, claws wreathed in red-black light. She carved across Watchog's ribs in a single sweeping motion, the sound sharp and wet. The blow landed clean, a textbook Night Slash.
Watchog crumpled instantly, the light in its eyes fading as it hit the dirt.
The referee raised a hand. "Watchog is unable to battle! The victory goes to Atrea Morgan and Zoroark!"
Zoey stood over her fallen opponent for a moment, the red gleam in her claws dimming as the smoke from her illusions faded into nothing. She flicked her wrist, scattering the residual energy like it was nothing more than a magician's trick.
Lenora adjusted her glasses, stunned but smiling faintly. "Impeccable misdirection. Your Zoroark fights like a phantom."
I smirked. "That's kind of her thing."
Zoey glanced back at me, tail flicking. Told you she'd never see it coming.
Lenora's smile twitched. "We'll see if my Stoutland fares better."
Without another pause, she sent Stoutland out. It deployed from that familiar red energy and immediately slammed its paws to the earth, letting out a deafening shrill. It was eager for vengeance. Trilla hovered forward to stand opposite him, her eyes steady but nervous.
He's big, she whispered into my mind.
"You've got this," I said calmly, arms folded.
Lenora called first. "Stoutland, Crunch!"
The hulking dog bolted forward, jaws snapping with dark energy. Trilla gasped, frozen, until my eyes locked on hers. Now.
She blinked, then threw up a shimmering wall of psychic force. Stoutland slammed into it, teeth scraping against her Protect. The impact cracked the floor, but she held.
Lenora frowned. "No command?"
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
Counter with Psychic.
My thought flowed into Trilla, and she obeyed instantly, catching Stoutland mid-leap in a violet glow. His legs thrashed helplessly as she hurled him across the arena, crashing him into the far wall.
The crowd gasped.
Lenora's composure cracked. "Impressive. But Stoutland, Work Up!"
The big dog rose, growling, body swelling with power. His eyes locked on Trilla.
He's charging again!
Focus, I told her silently. Use Shadow Ball when he closes.
She formed a dark orb and hurled it just as he charged. It smashed into his chest, staggering him, but not enough. He powered through, jaws glowing again, and this time his Crunch connected. The sound of his teeth sinking into her shoulder made my gut twist.
Trilla cried out, stumbling back. It hurts!
You're alright, I said quickly, steadying her with my voice in her mind.
Shake it off.
Lenora adjusted her glasses. "So she really does move without orders. Fascinating. Are you giving commands at all, Atrea? Or is this some kind of bond?"
I kept my arms folded, my eyes only on Trilla. "Something like that."
Trilla straightened, her wound already glowing with psychic energy as she steadied herself. She clenched her fists, eyes burning. I can still fight.
Good, I thought to her, my chest tight. Now, end this.
She threw out both arms, summoning a massive Thunderbolt that lit up the entire arena. The crack of lightning slammed into Stoutland, blasting him backward in a plume of smoke and dust. When it cleared, the dog lay motionless on the floor.
The referee raised his flag.
"Stoutland is unable to battle."
Lenora withdrew him and repositioned her glasses.
"Well done, my dear."
"Winner: Atrea Morgan and Gardevoir!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, but I barely heard them. Trilla turned to me, panting, sweat and smoke still clinging to her dress. I did it…
I smiled and held her Poké Ball up. "Yeah, you did. Take a rest, sweetie."
She vanished in a flash of red light. Zoey popped out behind me immediately, arms crossed, a scowl plastered across her face. You benched me. For her. And she got hit.
I grinned. She also won.
Zoey growled, but I caught the flicker of pride in her eyes. She'd never admit it, but she was glad.
Lenora approached, badge in hand. "You're unusual, Atrea. Your silence unsettled me more than your attacks. But strength is strength. Take this."
The Basic Badge gleamed in her palm. I accepted it with a nod.
"Thanks," I said.
As we shook hands, I could feel her eyes searching me for answers. I gave her none.
Rain ticked against the motel window, tracing silver lines down the glass while the glow from Seattle's skyline bled through the mist. Zoey was stretched across the bed, disguised as a half-asleep girl in a hoodie, scrolling on her phone. Trilla sat in the room's single chair, quietly watching the reflections in the wet street below.
I should've been celebrating. Two badges down, decent motel, everyone alive. Instead, I couldn't shake the image of that Biotechnica logo burning on the TV.
"Dad'll look into it," I muttered, though it sounded more like a hope than a fact.
Zoey didn't glance up. You mean you're about to look into it.
I sighed, opening my laptop. "Maybe just a little."
Dad's work habits had never changed; he'd used the same password for everything since before I could read. His precinct cloud account was still logged into the family sync drive, which he'd used to send me case photos once when Benny was part of a K-9 sweep. The login box blinked once, then accepted Benny123.
Hundreds of case folders loaded across the screen, half of them were routine reports, with the rest being heavily redacted. But one title froze me mid-scroll: Noctic Biotechnica - Active Investigation.
I opened it before I could talk myself out of it. Inside were two summary pages and a handful of attached photos. One line near the top was highlighted in yellow:
"Primary subsidiary: NP Holdings. Listed property includes a decommissioned warehouse at Pier 19, still drawing power from the city grid despite inactive status. Awaiting jurisdictional clearance from federal oversight, no warrant issued."
The notes beneath it were thin, but a timestamp showed the report hadn't been updated in months. I exhaled through my teeth.
"They know about it… and they're just sitting on it."
Zoey sat up, her illusion flickering away. You've got that look again. The 'I'm going to ignore good advice and break into something' look.
"I just need to see it," I said quietly. "If the building's still live, something's running inside."
Trilla's voice brushed my mind, calm but uneasy. And if your father finds out you were in his files?
"He'll chew me out for a week," I muttered, closing the laptop. "But I'll survive."
Zoey smirked. Then we'd better make it worth it.
I zipped my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder. "Grab your things. We're going to the waterfront."