NOW, LOOKER WAS NEVER INTO POP CULTURE.
So the name ‘Christoph,’ despite being a household name here in the Unova region, rings no bells. Nothing. Nada. In fact, he is the only individual during the debriefing not to have heard of him. And he spends about ten minutes hearing about it from a younger agent – evidently, a fan of his – just how sensational he is, and how kind and lovely he is in person –
Which begs the question – just how could someone so innocent and young get wrapped up with Team Plasma?
Looker tries not to think about it too much.
He is meant to follow orders – questions always came later.
His mission is simple. While investigations and reconnaissance were underway, Looker was meant to serve as Christoph’s bodyguard. Being a highly ranked as well as highly regarded member of Interpol, his commanding officer saw Looker fit for the job. After there all, in the few missions Looker has failed – protection was never one of them in all of his twenty years of service.
was scheduled to perform, still. But this time around, there would over a hundred agents waiting in the wings, with weapons and wits ready.
And so here they are, thousands of meters in the sky – riding in an Interpol sanctioned jet from headquarters, back to the city in question. Just the two of them (additional agents withcounting), Looker and Christoph, in the interior of a posh air vehicle. The silence that has fallen between these two has been deafening and so Looker sees it fit to break it.
But Christoph is young, and Looker must be at least three times his age. Just what on earth could they talk about?
He presses the cup of dark coffee to his lips, taking a few seconds to think.
And then he opens his mouth.
“Ah… so… would you care to view movies? We do not have much in the way of entertainment up here… but…”
From his seat, Looker pulls a few DVDs, rifling through the titles.
“Eh… I see a Shark Tale, Finding Nemo, The Notebook, Twilight, Air Bud… oh! Here, perhaps you should look through these! Whichever one you’d like to see.”
He runs his hands down his face, a loud sigh heaving past his lips.
Looker’s calloused fingers wrap once more around the handle. He gives it a gentle tug, the slots spinning before him in a dizzying, rapid display. He knows what the outcome will be just before the wheel comes to an abrupt halt. He doesn’t need to see it. He turns away.
The stagnant hum of the neon fixture above is giving him a headache, too.
Go gambling, they said.
It’ll be easy, they said.
Looker would laugh if he weren’t using his personal funds for this mission.
His objective was simple – bust the crime ring operation newly founded in Veilstone’s own Game Corner. Intel had that the casino was under new management, by an individual who had dealings with SInnoh’s notorious gangs. And while there was not solid proof that the owner had merged their operations with the facility, with a serious threat such as this, it was worth doing some private investigating.
Rumor has it that those who score big at the casino always capture management’s attention. And tumbling further down the rabbit hole, if Looker could get close to the management, maybe… just maybe…
But to do that, he’d have to win at something in the first place.
A scowl briefly flitters across his face. And then breaking the haze of gambling despair and frustration are the familiar sound of footsteps. Looker swivels in his seat, eyeing the person up and down. Another fellow gambler, of course.
He offers a brief smile.
“Oh no, my friend. You do not want to try your hand at these slots! No, no – they are terrible, I am telling you! Simply atrocious!”
Anabel muffled a raspy cough with her arm, trying to keep her heavy breaths as quiet as possible. The never-ending deluge of rain helped to drown out her noise, but she knew it would only delay her discovery. Pressing herself against the side of the mountain’s rock face with her Raikou beside her, the two lied in wait. Eventually, the sound of distant, roaring rockets finally reached her ears.
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He is trembling.
Through the sheets of cold rain, the anxiety consuming his core and fingertips, Looker is trembling. He is cursing under his breath, mind conjuring infinite possibilities as to what exactly happened here. As he moves through the mountain pass, Looker observes jaded gouges in the formations, streams of black painted on the earth and on nearby boulders.
Celesteela – he can tell by the markings, the scent of gasoline that still hangs in the air despite the fresh rain from the heavens. One of the more dangerous Beasts to encounter due to the amount of flame produced from its rocket thrusting.
Think.
The noise from battle died only minutes ago. That leaves only two real options out of the many.
One –
He is already too late. The civilian (or god forbid, operative) has already perished at the hands of the Beast. The Beast has fled, or still lingers in the area. And Looker must prepare himself to do battle.
Two –
He’s not too late. Whoever is back there is alive, injured perhaps, but alive. The Beast has lost interest, or Looker is about to arrive in the nick of time. And god, he hopes it’s the third option.
His boots clear the swath of mud before him, despite their suction that threatens to claim his legs. The air is hot and sticky. His coat is soaked through, clinging to his boxy figure. He wipes the rain that gathers on his brow, blurs his vision. As he ventures closer to the site of the battle, his heart beats so fast that he feels that it might explode in his chest.
There is a clearing right where there should be rock formations. No, not a clearing – a crater. Already, rain has begun to gather inside it, in some sort of makeshift tub mechanism. There are more streaks of black just painted across the field. Heaps of flora and fauna sit charred in their place, ready to crumble at a gentle touch. Remnants of boulders lay scattered in his peripheral.
And tucked into the side of the mountain, small and pale as the day he discovered her, rests Anabel.
His words jam in his throat. He’s running before he can yell.
“Chi – Anabel! ANABEL!”
He kneels beside her body, fearing he’s once again too late until he catches the labored but gradual rise of her chest – oh thank god, she’s alive. His fingers reach to graze where he believes the carotid artery is around the crown of her neck. And then his eyes catch sight of the excessive amounts of opened cuts and wounds and his fear consumes him once again.
Looker isn’t about to lose another operative.
A yell rips from his throat. He’s certain that he’s most likely hurt the ears of the agents on the other end of the line. If that’s the case, good – he wants them to hear him. They always hear him.
Even if they pretend they can’t.
They can’t deny him this time.
“Please! I beg of you! Send aid! There is an injured agent out here!”
Looker cocks a smile as his assailant at least begins to rouse. He keeps his boot firm on the back of this individual, tightens his own grip on the rope lassoed around their body. He doesn’t want them escaping from his grasp. Not unless he wanted a punch to the face. Or another kick to the ribs.
His features were unrecognizable tonight. Part of it had been due to the scuffle he had engaged in moments prior; the rest had lay in the full body disguise he crafted for so painstakingly long for the sake of this mission. Gone was his dark hair, his long face – in Looker’s place stood a man with pale skin and many wrinkles. His hair (or what remained of it), was thick and wispy, pent up in a bun. He looked every bit like a Pokémon sanctuary attendant should – down to the iron-toed hiking boots and all khaki apparel.
Maybe it was his FRAIL appearance that allowed him to get the upper hand over his attacker.
What had happened felt like a FLUKE – he shouldn’t have been able to take this individual down. They were strong in body, even faster in mind. Looker himself was dexterous, but certainly not as powerful as his fellow colleagues. And everything had happened so fast.
He recounts the mission in his mind. He had been instructed to protect a sanctuary in northern Johto, dedicated to the preservation of several species of Pokémon whose number had decreased alarmingly in the past decade. In the past month, the sanctuary had received an extreme amount of damage. Enclosures had been threatened, offices ransacked. Bands of rare Pokemon had been stolen. The situation had reached a point where the sanctuary would face closure; it no longer made financial sense to keep the place running.
While jobs such as these were often given to local authorities, Looker had pressed for Interpol’s involvement when further investigation concluded that the thefts were being carried out by a ring of known Pokémon pirates. Pirates, due to their widespread nature, were fair game.
And Looker couldn’t stand thieves.
So here he was, a week later. Looker had gone undercover, had waited for the next attack. And sure enough, the pirates had come. But they had been quick – much too quick for Looker to keep up without substantial backup. However, his saving grace had arrived when someone – which he assumed to be a pirate – had taken him from the back. Through his quick wits and expert maneuvering, Looker had managed to knock his assailant out. At the very least, he could get some answers out of them. Perhaps the location of a base?
❝ Aha, I see you are finally awake. ❞ he begins, giving the rope a little tug. ❝ I shall make this as quick and forthright as possible – you, sir – are under arrest! ❞
With his free hand, Looker unveils his badge. Interpol’s official emblem gleams even in the dim moonlight.
❝ You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one shall be appointed to you by the COURT – with this in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you? Hmm? ❞
Looker has done a lot of things in his lifetime.
Traveling through Ultra Space, however, was not one of them.
However, here he was.
He stands in front of the proud celestial behemoth that Dulse calls ‘friend,’ staring at his powerful forelegs, into his eyes that are so blue that they almost seem to glow. While Looker has had many encounters with Legendries alike, it felt so surreal to come face to face with one so docile. He was no stranger to Solgaleo, nor was Solgaleo a stranger to Looker. And yet, every instance that Looker happened upon Solgaleo, he had always felt blasphemous for treating him with such a casual air.
Looker raises a hand to meet Solgaleo’s nose. His fingers tremble; he feels the sheer energy radiating from the lion’s body.
❝ Aha. So – we are truly doing this, Dulse? ❞ Looker speaks aloud, not facing the individual behind him. ❝ And we are certain that it is safe…? ❞
Of course it’s safe – the scientists employed at Interpol had run many hypothetical tests. Using every amount of technology available to them, and in collaboration with the members of the Ultra Recon Squad, they were finally doing this. Looker and several of his colleagues had pushed for the exploration of Ultra Space. The process, as Looker understood it, would take decades – perhaps even centuries. There was a great chance that the project itself would not be completed within his own lifetime. But Looker was fine with that.
In any case, Looker felt that it would beneficial to do a little exploration regardless. Knowledge for knowledge’s sake – but perhaps that could also use that knowledge in the off case that something like the Ultra Beast breakout happened once more.
Nothing was impossible, after all.
❝ No. You do not have to answer me. ❞ Looker says before his friend can interject. ❝ I am aware of the risks, and I have agreed to let whatever happens, happens! C’est le vie, yes? Then let us not dwaddle any longer. Let us go! ❞
The Alolan Champion had seen better days as he kicked a pebble into the water, as defeat always left a bitter taste in his mouth and a feeling of guilt to sweep throughout his body.
Sun had great sportsmanship and while he lost a few against Hau, he’d pat his friend on the back with a grin. Not once did he ever show the distaste for defeat but then again, those were battles he could afford to lose. Ones that he didn’t have him force his Pokemon to go past their limits, ones where they weren’t barely standing on their feet but pushed through due to their determination. Those battles weren’t ones that depended on him and his team’s strength to prevail, they weren’t battles that could change the fate of Alola if he lost.
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His breath catches when the young man speaks, identity confirmed when he turns around and calls out to him. Looker’s heart just about stops right there. The corners of his lips twitch upward into a smile. He calls out again, knowing full well that Sun can hear him now. But it’s mostly for his own sanity – part of him had really begun to believe that kind, selfless kid had met his demise somewhere.
Looker could never forgive himself if that was the case.
❝ Young man – young man! ❞
And in that moment as he runs, Looker is suddenly aware of a searing warmth in his chest. He grinds himself to a precise halt, and glances down at his open coat. Across his white button up shirt, a dark stain across its center, sits the rest of his coffee.
Looker’s eyes fall back to the near empty coffee mug in his hand. He’d forgotten for a moment that he had that. So much for eloquence.
He belts out a laugh and awkwardly buttons the top of his coat to conceal the stain. And now he approaches Sun steadily, a fixed look of wonder splayed across his features.
❝ … Aha ha ha, it has been quite some time, hasn’t it? Do not worry – ❞ Looker feels ashamed that he must even preface his friendly greeting with a statement like that, ❝ I will not be asking you to hunt anymore Ultra Beasts. That time has since passed. ❞
No more asking children to perform his duties, no more placing innocent people in danger.
Not that there was even a chance of an outbreak of Ultra Beasts now. With technology being as precise and advanced as it was, it was simple to predict when and where a wormhole would open. But even rifts were uncommon, rare occurrences now.
And with Interpol now paying closer attention to the threat of these otherworldly beings (even more so since Lusamine’s interference), Looker had more men at his disposal than ever.
Disposal – something that Sun shouldn’t have been. The more he thinks about it, the more Looker detests the depravity of it all.
❝ However, you gave us at the agency quite a scare! Why did you not tell Interpol where you were going? For some time, we had begun to theorize that you had met your end at the hands of one of the beasts. Are you alright, young man? ❞
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