Rapid-fire tapping sounded out through a vibrantly bright-lit office space. The walls were a sterile white, with a single stripe of forest green running horizontally along the middle of the wall. The edges of the line were faded and tapered, rounding erratically in seemingly aimless patterns. The whimsy seemed out of place in the otherwise austere office, dominated by a single large desk of gleaming metal in the center of the space. The floors were similarly bare, openly displaying metal plating lain out in a tile pattern, polished to a mirror-like sheen. Blazing sunlamps beamed overhead, lighting the room as if directly under the noontime sun regardless of the hour.
Aside from the typing, the surrounding office was surprisingly quiet, considering that there were dozens of Pokémon standing at attention around the edges of the room. They were arranged in a grid-like fashion reminiscent of a military formation, albeit the order was somewhat forced by the arrangement of perches the Pokémon rest upon. The edges of the room were lined with racks of metal bars, upon which assorted species of flying types perched in groups according to species.
One wall was occupied by Spearow, one of two of the most populous Pokémon present in the room, numbering at least two dozen. Most of those present held some form of package strapped to their bodies, and their perches were labeled with plain, efficiently-stenciled lettering that read 'Low Priority - Day'.
Across the room from them, dangling from similarly-labeled perches with the simple switch to 'Night' were a comparable number of sleepily-squirming Zubat struggling to doze off. Directly behind the desk, three proud-looking Talonflame wore bored expressions, intermittently shifting their wings as if struggling to suppress the desire to move about and take to flight. This group bore the label of 'High Priority - Day', while a trio of Crobat were their counterparts labeled for the night-shift.
Finally, behind the desk, slightly to the right-hand side of the seated woman so as to be unobtrusive, green face staring absentmindedly off into the air above the desk, a lone Xatu maintained such a motionless vigil it could be easily mistaken as a statue. It alone stood in such a prominent perch, but it was no more glorious than the others, except perhaps for being labeled as 'Emergency Priority'.
"Burn." A cold female voice jolted through the room, a paper being raised from the desk as the typing drew to a halt. The paper wavered back and forth through the air, slowly drifting toward the metal flooring below. One of the Talonflame spat a leisurely wisp of flame at the paper, turning it to ash, which was swept away by a brief flap of the bird's wingspan. "Next."
At the prompt, another Spearow flew over and dutifully lifted one leg, allowing a tightly-rolled paper to be retrieved from its package, before soaring upward and out of the room's high ceilings. It was at least twenty feet up to reach the ceiling, and many assorted passageways of varying sizes had been built into the structure, allowing the Spearow to fly out directly. Clearly, the birds were being used as a primary means of communication, and the facility had been designed to allow this from the start.
The typing began again as the woman began to handle the latest report, adding it into the secure, entirely-enclosed network. Security protocols being taken to extremes, their computer network was entirely in-house at this facility, without so much as a power line to the outside world. Things were safer that way.
As the woman resumed typing, the Xatu's head tilted marginally, as if turning its head closer to a noise that none else perceived. Then it flickered briefly in place for a moment, before a folder appeared clutched in its beak. Well, to be precise, it had teleported away, grabbed the folder, and reappeared itself... but it happened so quickly, it was as if the folder was the only thing that had moved.
The relative calmness of the room was quickly disrupted by rapidly-approaching footsteps. The sharp 'click-click-click' of a pace that wasn't quite a jog, but definitely the stride of someone impatient, in a hurry, and unused to waiting resounded through the space. The lack of padding or cushioning made echoes reverberate something awful through the office.
Behind the desk, a young woman lifted her hands from the keyboard of the computer, interrupting the typing and looking toward the entryway with an expectant expression, before dropping her gaze so that if anyone entered, she would be more apt to be staring toward their feet than anything else, as if unwilling to meet the gaze of the approaching individual. Slender, pale fingers reached upward and brushed a strand of improbably-vibrant blue hair away from her face, tucking errant strands away behind her ear in a reflexive gesture.
"Drop everything and focus on this. Now." A stern, older male voice demanded, with an iron tone, approaching the desk. When he saw the size of the delivery, however, there was a sound of teeth grinding that resounded audibly through quiet of the room, for but a moment. When the voice spoke again, however, it was still calm and collected. "That doesn't seem to be the delivery I was expecting. What is it?"
The woman opened the folder, quickly scanning the contents, "Escaped dove had its wings clipped, baby bird is safe and sound." She replied in a quick, clipped tone.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Finally. Some small amount of competency. Even if it was merely to clean up his subordinate's messes. Why hasn't the Noivern team responded back yet, Cirrus? I assumed this was going to be a physical delivery from them, as overdue as they are. No, don't answer that, I'm merely thinking aloud. I know Noivern is well outside of telepathy range at the moment. With regards to this report... I want the Santalune Forest team responsible reassigned." The man began to pace as he talked, striding in aimless circles near the center of the room, hands tucked behind his back.
The woman, Cirrus, nodded her head while managing to not raise her gaze from being primarily aimed downward. "Of course, sir. Where do you want me to reassign them?"
A deep, reverberating chuckle escaped. "Cirrus..." The voice chided in disapproval, with a hint of affectionate undertone. It came across as if it was a father scolding a daughter he was particularly fond of, for making a mistake she should know better than to make. "A permanent reassignment, please."
Silence lingered in the room between the two for a long moment, the woman seeming to perk up for a moment in attentive excitement... before the moment passed and a smaller, more timid nod followed the order. "I see. I'll arrange it immediately. A team will have it done before the end of tomorrow."
"If you like, you can handle it yourself. I know that it's stifling to not be able to go out and stretch your wings. After all, this is far from an ideal environment, despite the efforts I put into place to make it less suffocating." A vague waving gesture seemed to take in the surroundings around them, encompassing the high ceiling, the bright lighting, the larger-than-seemingly-necessary volume of the workspace. "But such sacrifices are necessary, if only for a short time. After all... those looking to clip our wings would never think to check beneath the very ground we despise, would they?"
A brief chuckle sounded out, before it was abruptly cut off with a return to serious tone. "I've let myself wander from the subject. Treat it as a brief foray out for fresh air. Just make sure the Beedrill are delivered to the laboratory in a timely fashion, but aside from that, I don't mind if you want to go out and indulge a bit."
The woman had frozen in place, her head lifted up in abrupt surprise, forgetting herself long enough to meet the gaze of the man she had been shying away from. "Truly?" A slow smile formed over her face, and for the briefest of moments, it resembled an expression of pure, unbridled joy. A child being told that homework could wait, the weather was fine, so go out and play.
However, it rapidly shifted, growing both broader and more wicked, and it was clear that this was no childlike excitement. This was a primal, savage display of pleasure. A chained Houndour let off the leash, turned loose in a forest to hunt. "In that case, I regret to inform you that it might take longer than one day to complete the reassignment. You know, I do so enjoy being thorough."
The man waved a hand, seemingly acquiescing to the remark. "Pick up Noivern while you're out, find out why those idiots haven't come back. If they managed to get themselves arrested, leave them. If they're merely slacking, however... Well. I'll leave it up to you to decide where to reassign them. Noivern can supervise the Beedrill delivery, and you can enjoy your trip. Just don't dally too long. Make the most of it." He turned to leave, his pace considerably more sedate now that he knew the object he had been waiting for hadn't arrived.
"Oh, certainly sir, I will." The woman stood from the desk, stretching both arms overhead in a long, languid motion. Her tongue swiped across her lips in a predatory fashion, one that seemed to encompass endless hunger, and she began to stroll out of the office. "I most certainly will..." She repeated to herself at a lower volume. Once the man's footsteps had vanished in the opposite direction, her pace increased considerably and wild, borderline-unnerving laughter echoed through the halls as she built herself up in a sprint toward the exit. She couldn't remember the last time she had a... vacation.
It seems that Cirrus hadn't waited quite long enough to avoid notice, however, as the man shook his head as he strolled leisurely along. A gentle smile formed on his face, "Ah, the enthusiasm of youth." He strolled back to a sealed laboratory, staring into a retina scanner while both hands had each and every one of his fingerprints scanned simultaneously against a screen. After a long few moments of analysis, the pressurized doors unlatched and hissed open, a gush of ice-cold air shooting out into the hallway.
The man calmly stepped inside, allowing the door to slowly latch once more behind him. The temperature, rather than seeming to bother the man, almost seemed to reinvigorate him. He approached a stone pedestal, jarringly out-of-place as it was. The jagged stone around the base that splayed out as a small platform indicated that it had been ripped up whole and brought to this location in one piece. It was only about four feet high, making it easy to both approach to see and handle the item placed atop it.
A light blue, slightly-teal slab of stone in the shape of a tablet lay atop the pedestal, and the frigid temperatures seemed to emanate from it, intensifying the closer one grew to the object. Regardless, the man reached out and ran his fingers across the surface of the frosty stone without so much as wincing. After that brief caress, when his hand drew away, his fingers seemed to be displaying early symptoms of hypothermia despite the quick contact. The man merely stood there, staring at the stone tablet with an adoring expression, before speaking in a hushed whisper that barely made it to his own ears. "Don't worry. You won't be alone much longer. And the more we assemble... the easier it will be to find the rest. I'll bring you all back together, soon enough..."
He stood there, motionless, even as frost gathered on his hair and the cold seemed to seep into his bones. It was only minutes later when his fingers began to tinge with slight discoloration did he eventually part from his position, leaving the room. He curled his half-frozen digits into a fist, then slowly stretched them apart. His hand raised upward, making a grabbing gesture at one of the blindingly-bright sunlamps overhead in the main hallway. "After all... could any real scientist ever pass up the chance to test a God?"