Running up and down the upper spine of Mt. Coronet had been entertaining, while it lasted. However, as Enma reached the very end of it, setting foot in the middle of Route 216, he realized that the his refusal to slow down during his travels might not have been a great idea, considering he now had such a ruthlessly cold climate to deal with.

He took a few moments to recover his strength, eating the last of the food he'd stolen from that horde of Gligar. Up there in the lower peaks of the mountain, the thin air and the strange tremors coming from underground were too distracting for him to try it, but now that he'd reached the path he'd been aiming for, he could make out mild traces of Inyssa's scent in the air. Barely noticeable. Still, it was the only lead he had, so he'd work with it.

His eyes squinted in pain as he began to walk north, steam whistling as it rose from his feet touching the snow beneath him. Nothing he couldn't deal with, he assured himself. Sure, members of his species weren't meant to live anywhere near snow, but he was just passing through, so it'd be fine. He'd be fine. Absolutely nothing could stop him from finding his trainer, not even the full-blown blizzard that he would surely have to face on his way to the city Metchi had pointed him towards.

Just then, as the difficulty of the task ahead dawned on him, making his chest deflate ever so slightly, he heard something above him. A sound like a knife cutting through the air. A second after, a gust of wind hit him in the back of the head.

In an instant he turned around, jumping back and landing with his knees bent, the fur on his back rustling violently. High above, a dark, avian figure blocked out part of the sun. Its appearance was briefly covered in shadows. It batted its wings once and Enma immediately covered himself in a mantle of flames, ready to fight.

"Staa! Raa!"

The screech froze him. There was something so familiar about it, as though… as though he'd heard it before.

"Staara!"

The Pokemon landed in front of Enma, her enormous wingspan retracting at the sides of her body as she met him with a sharp glare; one he remembered too well. Immediately, the fire surrounding him went out. He stood to his full height, eyes wide. What the hell was she doing here?

She let out a chirp that almost sounded like a laugh, and then with a sharp movement of her head she pointed north. Then, so fast that even Enma was caught off guard, she slapped the ground with her wings –unearthing a few pounds of snow all around her– and flew up once more, her screech making the air itself shake.

"Staa!"

Despite not being able to fully understand her, the meaning behind her screech was one he had no trouble discerning.

Need a ride?

A toothy grin spread across Enma's face. This certainly made things easier.

"Freer," he said, lifting his hand up toward her. "Freerer!"

----------------------------------------

As far as cells went, the one Rowan was currently imprisoned in was a rather adequate one, he thought. Pillows, chairs, a desk with a reading lamp, a furnished table with a bowl full of ripe fruit in the middle, a bed with a rather thick mattress, a light bulb that seemed to exude sunlight and even a tall shelf full of books for him to read. Had he not been so eagerly awaiting an opportunity to escape, the commodities would have been nicely welcomed. As it stood, however, it didn't seem like such opportunities would present themselves to him anytime soon.

Which is why it surprised him so much when the leader of Team Galactic himself appeared out of the hallway and opened the door to his cell, trapping himself inside. Rowan froze, lowering his glasses from his face ever so slightly. He still held the book he was reading on one hand, the pale light of the reading lamp falling on it.

Rowan placed his weight on one foot and moved his leg ever so slightly, but before he could jump forward the man raised a hand, and the temperature of the room felt like it dropped about ten degrees.

"I urge you not to try anything," he said, his voice hitting him like an icicle to the chest. "There are guards posted outside the cell. More than you could deal with, I'm sure."

Over the long course of his career, Rowan had met too many people to count, each one as different as could be, each one carrying themselves in their own particular ways which betrayed more about their personality than any words ever could. Yet a single look at this man was enough to freeze him. Everything about him was utterly wrong, from his posture to his eyes to the way he moved. He didn't take a long step if he only needed a short one, didn't seem to raise his voice past the exact volume necessary in order for it to be heard, didn't look at anything that had nothing to do with his current predicament. It reminded him of a pendulum, in a way. Perfect and precise, yet chaotic enough that it was impossible to get a good read on him.

It was for that reason, perhaps, that Rowan did not attempt to escape. He easily could have overpowered the man, seeing as he looked thin enough for a stiff breeze to knock him over, but something about the utter, cold honesty in his voice convinced him that doing so wouldn't end well for him.

"…Cyrus." There was a snap as he closed the book shut, rising from his chair to face the man. "What do I owe the pleasure to? I don't believe jailers are meant to stand under the same roof as their prisoners."

"I didn't bring you here to be a prisoner," said the man, curtly. "Nor would I want you to feel as such, which is why I gave you every commodity you could wish for. These bars behind me are simply a practical measure; a visual reminder of the situation you're in."

Rowan folded his arms, raising an eyebrow at the man. "You seem very considerate for a terrorist leader. I admit, I was half expecting to be tied to a bloody chair as soon as I was dragged here, with a table full of rusty torture instruments at the side. This is… pleasant, in comparison."

Cyrus lowered his head and closed his eyes, hands still behind his back. Something like a smile formed on his gaunt face. "We are both reasonable men, Rowan. Such brutality is below us."

"Then should I assume you expect me to cooperate with nothing but empty hospitality as my incentive?"

"I believe there is no reason to be unnecessarily antagonistic," Cyrus countered. "Providing you with anything less than our full hospitality wouldn't drive you to help us, and even if I wanted to go as far as torturing cooperation out of you, I am confident that your body would crack long before your will did. You are a strong and intelligent man. I expect you to realize on your own what your most beneficial course of action is. In the meantime…" His gaze swept through the room. "If there is anything else you require, feel free to let me know. I will do my best to acquire it for you."

The professor nodded thoughtfully, looking around him as though appraising the room he was in. Surely Cyrus expected him to change the subject, or to question him further. Instead, to the man's surprise, Rowan walked over to the shelf at the other side of the room and ran his finger on the pale wood, removing it a moment after and staring at the dust gathered on it with disgust.

"Balsa. Of course."

Cyrus blinked. "Come again?"

"Balsa wood. It tends to gather dust much more easily than any other type, which is part of why it's so cheap. I wouldn't be caught dead with a shelf like this in my own house. I'm allergic to dust, you see." Absentmindedly, he cleaned the dust off on the handkerchief resting on top of the table. "Not to mention the pale, sickly color of such wood. It contrasts poorly with the dark table and colorful pillows. It is unlikely that whoever decorated my cell ever had a place of their own to furbish. I'm afraid such a distasteful mesh of styles will do nothing but irritate me during my time here."

He placed his hand atop the table, looking up at a startled Cyrus. "I would prefer a more cohesive set of pieces of furniture. Dark pine would be acceptable. Walnut would be ideal. Additionally…" He craned his neck toward the books resting on the shelves. "More varied reading material would be appreciated. I may be a scientist, but that doesn't mean I spend all my free time reading about the subject. I prefer a bit of fiction. Drama, mystery, noir, romantic comedy, those are all my favorite genres. I'm particularly fond of anything written by Dorne, Maelith or Corenthal. And then there's the food…"

The apple shone under the artificial light as Rowan took it from the bowl and spun it between his fingers, frowning at it as though it were responsible for his predicament.

"So much fructose, at my age? I don't think so. Take these back to the kitchen, for they will do nothing but rot in here." He let the apple fall to the bowl again. "As for my meals, I would appreciate it if you held higher standards to the way your grunts cook them. Noodles with a tomato sauce that sour? Is it a joke? Do any of your cooks know that they are supposed to add a pinch of sugar in order to counteract the acidity? I would be more than willing to teach them how to cook... Say… spinach gnocchi with some black olive sauce and basil, you know, a real dish. It would certainly liven up the menu…" He let out a resigned scoff. "Well, that matter falls on your hands. I would also appreciate some way to listen to music, if possible. Radio and CDs are acceptable, though if you would be kind enough to procure a record player, perhaps with a few blues vinyl ranging from the 70s to the 80s, that would be greatly appreciated."

There was a moment of silence as Rowan recovered his breath, shoulders dropping as he let out a small sigh. All throughout, Cyrus simply stared at him, immobile.

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"That would be all, I think."

Cyrus leaned forward ever so slightly in what could have been considered a bow. "I… see. I will do what I can to meet those demands, then."

For a second it felt like he had been thrown off the momentum of the conversation by Rowan's long-winded rant, but after composing himself and gathering his thoughts once more, Cyrus decided to return to the matter at hand.

"In exchange, I would hope for your eventual cooperation."

"You can hope all you want," said Rowan, smiling politely. "I certainly won't stop you."

"We need a man of your talents, professor," said Cyrus. "Your work on the energy Pokemon release as they evolve is the very basis of one of our experiments, you see."

"Reason why you attempted to steal my research back in Jubilife, I'm sure." Rowan spat out those words with an offended tone. "But if I were to believe that you had no one to interpret it or put it into action, then I would have expected you to try to kidnap me much sooner. I've seen some of the projects you people came up with. That device capable of shutting off Pokeballs and that fearsome beast you released upon Celestic… You couldn't have accomplished such things without a talented team of scientists working under you. Which begs the question… why do you need me, all of a sudden?"

Cyrus' lips formed the hook of an unfeeling smile. "Your perceptiveness was not exaggerated, I see. Indeed, I am lucky to count with the help of two extremely efficient scientists who, until now, have been just enough to keep the progress of our most important projects at a steady pace. Unfortunately…" He looked down to the floor, frowning. "Charon, the one in charge of recreating your research, currently has another mission to take care of within Mt. Coronet. One he won't be done with anytime soon, I' afraid."

Rowan's face scrunched up in thought. As far as he was aware, all entry into Mt. Coronet was being carefully monitored by members of the Association. How could such a high-ranking member of Team Galactic have managed to reach its depths without being discovered?

"I see… That's why you decided to take the plunge and do something as dangerous to your team's image as kidnapping me. A bold move." He tried his best to keep his expression blank as he spoke, unwilling to show Cyrus any sign of weakness. "Well, the consequences of that will fall onto you soon enough, I'm sure. You're more than free to try and convince me to help you in any way you can, but I'm sure it won't be long before you realize what wasted effort that would be."

Something like a laugh left Cyrus' lips. It was a sharp, inhumane sound like the whisper of a frigid gust of wind.

"My efforts are never wasted, professor. You will help us, for even a man as cunning as you can be bent to our will, should the right leverage be applied."

"Like I said, you're welcome to try all you want. Now if you excuse me, I would like to get a little shuteye before it's dinner time."

Without giving him any more regard, Rowan turned toward his bed and let himself fall on it, letting out a sigh and stretching his neck from side to side, making it click. Cyrus, however, did not leave. He let silence set for a few more moments before delivering his blow.

"Lucas… that's his name, isn't it?"

Rowan's entire body went stiff. He felt the air in the room turning heavy and dense, filling his lungs with something like lead.

"A very devoted and hard-working assistant, I've heard." Cyrus kept speaking, disregarding the professor's reaction. "A young prodigy who spends all his time trying to follow in his mentor's footsteps, seeing as he doesn't count with parents of his own. He must be so incredibly worried right now."

When Rowan looked up, he looked like a mother Ursaring ready to jump on someone attempting to reach her cubs. His arms tensed up like they were made of steel.

"I'm sure he'll be quite fine without me," he said, danger clear in his voice. "He's got my other assistants to look after him."

"Will that be enough to keep him safe, I wonder?"

"I'm certain of it," Rowan snarled, his tone all but certain. "He is surrounded by my most trustworthy…"

"Surrounded, you say." Cyrus spoke the word slowly, as though tasting it. "Unfortunately, there is a hole in that protective circle around him. Surely you know… I mean, how closely have you been monitoring him lately?"

"What are you…?"

"At this very moment I'm sure he's still deep within Iron island, fulfilling the project you left for him before your disappearance. And… pray tell, do you remember the name of the friend accompanying him on that mission?"

It took a moment for realization to dawn on Rowan, shattering his outward show of confidence as it did. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before getting the words out.

"If you're trying to imply that he's…"

"One of my men? Indeed he is," said Cyrus. "You really should have kept a closer eye on your favorite student's acquaintances."

"You're bluffing," spat back Rowan, eyes narrowed in something that looked like panic.

Cyrus nodded. "Certainly possible. However, trust me in that I wouldn't mind going to any length necessary in order to prove that I'm telling the truth." He raised his hand in a disinterested gesture, showing his Poketch. "I could call Saturn right now, if you wished. And in the meantime, why not ask him to bring a piece of the boy here, as proof? I'm sure that would be enough to motivate you."

Rowan failed to reply right away. He was too busy looking for a hint, any hint, within the man's cold facade that might betray him as a liar. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the sort. His face was like an iron mask. He felt an invisible clump rise to his throat, the carefree attitude his worry had previously hidden behind crumbling to pieces all around him.

"I… You won't…"

However, just as he was about to speak, steps were heard across the corridor. Both men turned to look past the cells where a tall, short-haired man wearing Galactic's uniform had appeared, an urgent and somewhat apprehensive look on his face.

"C-Cyrus sir! I…" He seemed to notice Rowan a moment after. "Ah… I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You are not," said Cyrus, looking over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"R-right. Er, there was an urgent message for you; it was from the group stationed south of Lake Acuity. It… It sounds like they found their objective!" He smiled enthusiastically as he gave those news. "A-and also… Commander Asta said she might have found a trace of Mars not too far away from there!"

Cyrus gave a stiff nod. "I assume Asta is waiting for my orders?"

"That's what she said, yeah."

"Very well." He glanced over at Rowan one last time. "I'm afraid our time has to be cut short, professor."

"I…"

"Matters to attend to aside, I hope you will use this time to think about what you must do next. When I come back, I will expect a different answer to my proposal." Then, without prompting, he reached over and opened the door of the cell. "Otherwise, I will be forced to prove how serious my claims are. I advise you not to push me that far."

The sound as the cell doors closed once again, leaving Rowan alone inside, reminded him of the snap of a guillotine's blade as it fell down. He let himself fall against the wall behind him, for the first time in years feeling as old as he looked.

----------------------------------------

Both Lucas and Saturn's Poketch went off the moment they resurfaced in Iron Island's beach. The former raised his hand to protect against the strong sunlight as the sound played; a quick and successive series of identical beeps which meant that he had received a backload of messages previously unable to reach him.

"Heh… Guess we were down there a bit longer than we thought," said Lucas.

Saturn gave an absentminded nod. "Mine's… a message from my boss, from a few hours ago." His eyebrows perched up. "That's weird. I told him I'd take a couple days off…"

But Lucas wasn't listening. As soon as he pressed the screen of the device he was met with an ominous sight that made him momentarily freeze.

"S-seventeen missed calls?" he asked, tone full of confusion. "It's all from Luke and Rika."

"Who are they?" asked Saturn, fiddling with his own Pokétch.

"The professor's other two assistants. But…" He shook his head. "Hold on, I'll give them a quick call. Jeez, I hope nothing bad's happened…"

The persistent beeping of a call being made was heard over the harsh gusts of wind assaulting the beach. Saturn parted his lips to reassure Lucas, but then Cyrus' message invaded the screen of his own Pokétch, catching his attention. The man's eyes went wide as plates.

A second after, the beeps stopped and a human voice came out of Lucas' Pokétch.

"Lucas!? Is that you!?" The voice was female, its tone full of panic. "Where are you!?"

The boy let out a scared yelp. "Y-yes! I'm… I mean, I just came out of the cave I was supposed to explore here in Iron Island! Everything turned out okay if that's what…"

"T-The cave, of course…" The woman let out a relieved sigh. "I thought you were… No, never mind. Listen, where exactly are you right now? I'll call Luke and we'll be there as soon as we possibly can."

Lucas stuttered for a moment before being able to answer. "I… Like I said, just outside that cave, entering the beach. B-but like I said, I'm fine! I can come back on my own so I'm sorry if I worried you or anything!"

An uncomfortable silence came from the other side of the call, lasting a few seconds.

"Lucas… You haven't… heard?"

His nervous smile dropped, a cold feeling spreading from his stomach outwards. Next to him, Saturn stood completely frozen, eyes still glued to the screen of his Pokétch.

"W-what happened?"

"The professor… He's gone missing."

It felt like his heart had stopped. He felt the world around him dim, and when Rika spoke again her voice sounded far away, as though at the other side of a long and narrow tunnel.

"Seems like someone broke into his house. The Association came a few hours ago and told us that it's probably the work of someone in possession of a strong psychic Pokemon. Lots of latent psychic energy in the air." There was a pause. Rika caught her breath, though it almost sounded like she was sniffing strongly. "R…Raymond was on the floor when they entered the house. He's…"

She didn't say anything else. There was a sound like cloth rubbing against skin, and the next moment her voice seemed to have gone back to normal.

"Stay right where you are. Don't call anyone and don't speak to anyone, understand? We'll be there as soon as we can."

The loud beep as the call ended was what finally brought Lucas back to reality. He looked down at his Poketch, and noticed that his hand was shaking quite a lot, not to mention there was something slick and hot running down his cheeks. Breathing had become suddenly difficult as well, strangely enough.

"N-no…" His voice was barely audible, so thin and shaky that it sounded more like a sob. "It can't… Who would…?"

His body moved on its own; with a desperate jolt he turned toward Saturn expecting… he didn't know exactly what he was expecting, maybe a hug or a smile or a few encouraging words that might help with the heavy and expanding clump of anxiety set at the bottom of his stomach. However, as his eyes met with Saturn's, all he saw was fear.

The man looked back, eyes so wide and terrified that they didn't seem like his anymore. The arm he was holding up shook slightly as well. On the Pokétch around his wrist, Lucas noticed a few words written on the screen; the message his boss had sent him. Without meaning to, without really knowing why, Lucas took a step forward and let his gaze fall on the screen before Saturn had time to lower his arm.

We have Rowan. Do not leave his assistant's side. Wait for instructions.

Lucas' brain simply didn't understand what it was reading. It couldn't. Slowly, shaking his head as though trying to get what he had just read out of his skull, he looked up at Saturn and felt an odd sensation of distance even though they were standing right next to each other.

"W-what is that?"

Saturn took a sudden step back, his movements stiff and panicked. As he did so, realization began to dawn on Lucas.

"Saturn…?"

The man's hand moved to his belt with surprising speed, shock crossing his expression. Like he was barely aware of what he was doing. With a flick of his finger he opened a Pokeball, summoning an explosion of light that materialized between them.

Lucas jumped back, squinting against the strong light as it slowly dissipated. When he was finally able to see again, he noticed that Saturn was hanging off that strange, bell-like Pokemon of his, right hand grabbing onto one of its two handles and right foot strongly set against its metal frame. His face was pale and stricken with fear and guilt.

"S-Saturn!?"

He simply shook his head, and then looked away as his Pokemon began to gleam with a purple glow, both their bodies shifting slightly.

"I'm sorry…"

Balance left Lucas as the Pokemon teleported with a sudden burst of power, sending him tumbling back toward the ground. He scrambled to his feet, heart beating furiously. However, when he looked up again all he saw was the clear and empty sky, no sign of Saturn or his Pokemon to be seen.