The Officer returned from the back of the reception room with two binders and set them on the table.
Each page contained a profile — name, species, offence history, current grade classification, and available services. These were the Pokémon available to borrow.
Because Nova was the primary applicant for this arrangement and Mort Cotterill was acting as guarantor rather than the requesting party, the Officer walked Nova through the lending system from the beginning.
The prison classified its inmates across four grades, based on the nature of the offences committed and the assessed danger level of the Pokémon itself.
Grade C was the lowest. These were Pokémon that had been involved in criminal activity under their Trainer's direction, but the harm caused had been limited and not severe. Most were not serving indefinite terms. After a period of behavioural education and structured work, Grade C inmates were typically rehabilitated and eventually released back into the wild.
Grade B represented Pokémon with a more serious offence record — acts that had caused significant harm to other people or Pokémon. Their own battling ability might not be exceptional, which was what kept them at B rather than higher, but their temperaments were genuinely dangerous. Because they were relatively containable, they were the most commonly borrowed through the programme. Trainers who needed a specific type for a specific task usually found what they were looking for here.
the Officer mentioned, as an example, that the Ariados and Medicham involved in a recent hijacking incident had both been classified as Grade B.
Nova remembered that incident clearly.
Grade A was more complicated. These Pokémon might not have an extensive record of direct harm to people, but their raw ability was high enough that ordinary Trainers couldn't reliably control them. The higher grade reflected that difficulty. Borrowing a Grade A inmate required a more substantial application and stronger documented ability from the Trainer requesting them.
Grade S was reserved for Pokémon that were both highly dangerous and highly capable. The prison rarely made Grade S inmates available to the public. Most were serving indefinite terms. Where a Grade S Pokémon had traits or abilities worth preserving, the prison managed that internally — providing genetic material to breeding institutions or working with research organisations to develop medicines and items from what the Pokémon produced. The potential usefulness didn't change the classification.
Nova flipped through the binders.
On one of the pages, he stopped.
Taylor's Arbok. The same one that had nearly dissolved him twice with its Acid in the Black Rock Desert. It was here, classified as Grade S, which was entirely expected.
The Officer had actually flagged the Arbok as a possible option — not for borrowing directly, but for its Acid. The move was potent enough to corrode metal without difficulty, which meant dissolving a safe open was technically feasible.
Nova asked about the Arbok first, which the officer took as interest in the suggestion. He began explaining its Acid's properties in enthusiastic detail.
Nova already knew exactly how potent that Acid was. That wasn't the issue.
The issue was precision. Acid powerful enough to eat through the safe's door would keep eating unless carefully managed. Bring too little and the job wouldn't get done. Bring too much and the contents of the safe would be gone along with the door. For a container that probably held a significant sum of money, that was not an acceptable margin of error. He passed.
Before moving on, he asked casually what the Arbok's current status was. How it was holding up.
The Officer's answer was not what he expected.
Taylor was dead.
Nova kept his expression neutral and said nothing.
He thought through what he knew. When Flygon's attack had left Taylor critically injured in the field, the situation had been severe. At that point, survival was genuinely uncertain. If he had died then, Nova would have had no particular questions about it.
But before leaving Forest City, Officer Jenny had told him directly: Taylor had been stabilised. Medical staff and the Chansey assigned to the facility had worked through the night, and he had been pulled back from the edge.
Once a person in Alliance custody reached that point — alive, stable, with a pending trial — the system had every reason to keep them that way. A surviving Original Team officer, cooperative or not, was a potential source of information about the organisation's structure, its other members, its operations. Every Security Officer working that case would want Taylor breathing and answering questions in a courtroom, not quietly gone before the trial began.
A person in that position didn't die from a relapse of old injuries. Not in a properly managed facility. Not when that many people had professional and institutional reasons to ensure otherwise.
Nova filed the information away and let The Officer continue talking.
He turned his attention back to the binders.
The range of skills represented across both volumes was genuinely impressive. The prison, it turned out, was home to some remarkably specialised talents.
There was a Sliggoo with exceptional hearing — capable of detecting the subtle mechanical shifts inside a combination lock as it was manipulated. Its former Trainer had used it to rob the safes of corporations and private estates across an entire region, and had operated for years before being caught.
There was a Purrloin that could work open anti-theft locks and combination mechanisms with its claws, quickly and reliably. It and its former Trainer held a record of over one hundred and seventy shop burglaries in a single night.
Nova read that entry twice.
One hundred and seventy. In one night.
Other options in the binders were more situational. A Drowzee that had assisted in hypnotic theft cases and could use its ability to help people recall forgotten codes or passcodes. A Haunter experienced in phasing through barriers that could enter a locked space and disengage the lock from the inside. A Klefki that had accumulated thousands of stolen keys and had an uncanny instinct for locating lost ones.
Each had a specific use case. Not all of them were suited to what Nova was actually trying to do.
He thought about it for a moment, then made his decision.
The Purrloin.
One hundred and seventy locks in one night was not a record achieved by luck. Whatever Taylor's safe had been built to resist, Nova found it genuinely difficult to believe it would hold up against a Pokémon with that kind of track record. If it could crack a hundred and seventy different anti-theft systems in one evening, one reinforced safe in the middle of a desert was a reasonable ask.
The other consideration was practical. The Purrloin's grade was low. Its lockpicking ability was extraordinary; its combat ability was not. Taking it to Lune Town — an isolated, formerly criminal-operated settlement — carried real risk if the borrowed Pokémon was strong enough to cause problems. This one wasn't. If it cooperated with the work, Nova would compensate it well. If it didn't cooperate, Corviknight would be happy to provide a persuasive reminder of the power dynamic.
Nova pointed to the Purrloin's page and looked at The Officer.
"This one."