The Pink Spinda

The Pink Spinda
Chapter Two

The front pages of all the different newspapers strewn across the impressive oak desk all told the same story - the first face-to-face meeting of both the Silph Co and Devon heads; Mr Silph and Mr Stone. Recently just held on Hoenn soil in Rustboro both men had stood, hands clasped in a friendly shake, for a photo shoot that would be the year’s biggest business story across both Kanto and Hoenn.

Of course both men knew this, as did the son of the Devon head, Steven Stone.

The sheer amount of attention the meeting had attracted was unprecedented in the business world. Even the smallest of local papers had fought valiantly for a glimpse of both the top tycoons, and just mere months after Silph Co had flattened the Hoenn competition in the Johto region tempers were on a high.

Neither man had shown any outward frustration towards their rival, but Steven could plainly see his father’s anxiety from just the grip of their handshake. Mr Silph had strode into the press room all smiles and confident, back straight as someone of his middle age would, while Mr Stone had trudged in and taken his seat quickly as an older gentleman would. Steven had taken the seat next to his father with great pride as he watched Silph’s daughter take her seat adjacent to him, equally proud of her father as he was of his.

Lorelei Silph had matched him skill-for-skill since they were children and he had no doubt Silph had taught her well for when the day came she would continue the Kanto based business. Her and himself would continue the rivalry their parents had started over two decade ago.

Leaning back in the large chair the grey-haired man folded numerous papers off to the side of his desk, mindful of his companion. He didn’t need to read every single one as only the simple believed everything in the papers, but insight into the different areas and their opinions on the confrontation would be extremely helpful for future marketing. Although marketing wasn’t the branch of the Devon business Steven had found himself running, and neither was their mainstream industry of Pokemon accessories any trainer could ever need, nor was he in charge of the production team working on new applications for the immensely popular PokeNav or the revival of extinct fossil Pokemon. No, Steven had been appointed the highly secretive business of Devon’s Escort Company; a seedy, painful, mentally-draining job his father had trusted him alone with since the untimely death of the previous head.

To the higher-ups of Devon Corp the escort company was, arguably, their largest source of income. Upon his appointment to the company Steven had had a tough time with publicity and ethics. Though fully aware that such businesses walked a thin line between the law and moral values Steven had taken to his management with surprising flair and had publicised perfectly enough to escape the grip of the law yet overthrown his predecessor both in terms of morale and earnings. He’d even discovered Dragon and Dark slumming their lives and taken them in to the company were, along with Water and Flower, had come to be the most popular of all his employees.

Finally he had four individuals to counter Silph Co’s top escorts.

And with the Kanto industry bringing their competition to his home he’d be damned if he’d suffer a defeat and drag his father’s entire Corporation into ruins. It was painfully obvious that without the escort company holding Devon up it’d crumble; just as was the case with Silph.

Glancing at the digital clock hanging on the wall Steven heaved a heavy sigh as he neatly placed the pile of papers on the floor alongside his desk before glancing at the person sat in the chair opposite him.

In contrast to his own weathered looks the man with his head in his arms sleeping on the fine shine gave off the distinct feeling of vulnerability. His lean frame highlighted by the airy clothes he wore slowly rose and fell in tandem with each breath and Steven hated having to wake him from such peaceful sleep. Most other employees had left the building on such a sweltering hot day.

He placed his hand on the others’ shoulder, “hey, Wallace…” he said quietly, trying to rouse the other man carefully. “Wallace, wake up.”

With a surprisingly disgruntled mumble the fair-haired man lifted his face from his arms, blinking bleary eyes to get a better sight of the younger Stone. “Uh, Steven… what time is it?” he looked around blankly.

“Quarter past three,” Steven replied automatically.

“Ohh, I’ll have to go… or I’ll be late for Erika,” Wallace mumbled without much enthusiasm before putting his head in his arms again. Steven frowned.

“Why don’t you stay here longer? I’ll have Phoebe see to Erika. It’s hardly a bother and Phoebe’s in the bar anyway,” he waited a moment for a reply he knew he wouldn’t get before continuing. “Wallace, you’re too tired to keep working. You shouldn’t wait up for me to get back from father when you’re working all day. Rest a little longer in my room, okay?”

The man opposite him shook his head, “don’t favour me, Steven. Everyone already thinks you go too easy on me compared to them. I… don’t want that.”

“Don’t listen to Lance,” Steven replied quickly knowing full well his friend was referring to something the redhead had said not a week ago about their personal situation. “He was just upset about Will passing out again. You know he doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“It’s true though,” Wallace’s voice was muffled by the desk. “Whenever we’ve had a busy week I always get offered first privileges… if I took them whenever you laid them out for me I‘d feel guilty. I do feel guilty. Surely Will needs those privileges a lot more than me.”

Steven sighed. He began rubbing his temples, ”Wallace, listen to me,” he said sternly while reaching over to look the other man in the eyes. “Ever since Will started having these episodes he’s been out of commission, “ he almost winced at talking about another human being in such a way but pressed on, “so lately you’ve been ordered a lot more. It’s a terrible strain on you, it would be for anyone. Will is getting the attention he needs and you too should get the consideration you deserve for all your extra work. I know how demanding the patrons are. It has nothing to do with you and I on a personal level. If it were then I would’ve brought you out of this debauchery as soon as I was appointed! You and I know that, and despite what everyone else may say, they know it too. So please… take it easy.”

Looking back at the man sat behind the desk with his hands holding his face up he reflected the sincerity in those grey eyes as he replied quietly; “okay, Steven.”

Although not thoroughly convinced he’d ever change Wallace’s way of thinking he was just glad the man could see sense when it really mattered. Even going by his alias, Water, the man always thought of other people in worse situations than himself, such as what seemed to be happening with Will, even if it destroyed him in the process. It was already plain to see the extra demands and orders had taken their toll on him - body and mind.

With a quick look at the clock again he suddenly leant forward and pulled Wallace to him to cover his lips lightly, lingering on his bottom lip before sharply retreating before the younger man could melt into him. He sat back down and clapped his hands. “I have a meeting at three-thirty, so you’ve got plenty of time to see Erika. Whatever it is you’re doing.”

Wallace swayed slightly as he stood back, both form the kiss and the head rush from being grabbed so quickly. He nodded and smiled before steadily leaving the office.

Really, Steven was torn, he sighed as he watched his lover close the door. He cared for Wallace and wanted him out of such a business. The man was a stripper, prostitute and everything more under his hand but he was also one of the top four of the company. If he saved Wallace then he’d be condemning his father to the death of Devon; if he saved his father then Wallace would eventually shatter like fine china.

He loved Wallace and he loved his father. And he couldn’t act for either of them.

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As Wallace left through the offices in the rear of the Slateport City Devon branch building he nodded and smiled to those who greeted him or wished him a good afternoon. The Pink Spinda was closed for business for the day as Steven had granted everyone a free afternoon before the club reopened later that evening. An evening Wallace wasn’t looking forward to. That morning a cruise ship had docked and he’d previously found himself a favourite of the burly sailors. It was painful and they were rough and they relished any whimpers of pain he couldn’t hold back.

Tonight would be a long night, he mentally sighed, but at least Steven didn’t have any scheduled meetings leading into the morning so he could catch up on the rest he’d lost worrying over his lover.

Walking past Glacia’s desk she gave him a pleasant all-knowing smile. Somehow the blonde woman had the uncanny ability to know exactly were relationships were headed, or who would ‘hook up’ weeks before they actually happened. Her smile would have unnerved him were she not such a placid person.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, right? Right!? It’s gonna be okay, right?” a sudden blaring voice threw him out of step and he just noticed the three people sat on the sofas across the pristine white room from Glacia.

Three young men all in their mid-twenties were waiting patiently (well, two of them), presumably to see Steven. He recognised two of them; the blonde and the redhead. “Hello, Flint, Volkner,” he greeted them between the redhead’s panicked shaking of the blonde.

Volkner struggled with the bigger man’s hands as he tried to shove Flint away. “Everything’ll be fine! Fine!” he hissed, all pretence of composure lost.

“But this is my baby we’re talking about!” the afro’d man practically sobbed, still not stopping his groping of his friend.

“Your Rapidash fainted, Flint!” Volkner growled through his teeth. “It’s nothing. We can pick her up later. Calm down now.”

Wallace laughed lightly as the redhead immediately stopped overreacting as If the blonde had him under a spell. He could hear Glacia laughing behind him, “I’m sorry, Flint. I should have held back a little more. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d win,” she apologised sincerely.

“Ah, it’s okay!” Flint grinned at the woman. “It’s been a while since I’ve lost a battle. Sorta fun in a way, yanno?”

“Of course.”

“She totally wiped the floor with him,” the stranger of the trio said to Wallace.

He looked at the man addressing him; tartan-patterned trousers, a beige shirt and a black waistcoat with numerous piercings, most notably the tongue piercing and a skinhead with only a small quiff of hair on his forehead. He certainly looked like the sort of person Volkner and Flint would have in their band.

“Oh, this is Sidney!” Flint introduced them, “he’s our new guitarist since we lost two members recently. Sidney, this is Wallace. He works here.”

“So yer a hook-”

“We’re here to see Steven about extending our contract with you,” Volkner cut across his band mate suavely. “I’m hoping he’ll continue to employ us even though we’re a man down.”

Wallace frowned at the new character but politely inclined his head in greeting before turning to the blonde bassist of the group. “I’m sure Steven will continue your contract. You’re quite popular here. So you’re Steven‘s three-thirty meeting then?”

“That’s right,” Volkner replied. “I hope he’s not too busy?”

“This Silph business keeps him up at night nowadays,” Wallace mused, “and he’s been having more and more meetings with the heads of departments. It’s quite a stressful time at the moment, but he always has time for us,” he indicated himself and Volkner with an elegant wave of the hand. “He gave everybody the day off today.”

Volkner could have sworn the tall man almost sounded wistful before Sidney spoke up again; “that’s right! So what’s Stevie like, y’know? Since yer bonkin-”

“Steven will see you now,” Glacia broke through the skinhead’s sentence sharply. Wallace moved aside as the trio quickly made their way across the room to leave. He couldn’t hold the smile back at the disdainful looks both Volkner and Glacia eyed Sidney with or the way the man seemingly cowered under the gazes.

He gave the secretary one last nod before leaving.

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True to the weather predictions for the week, it was yet another sweltering day out on the streets of Slateport. The pavements were crowded with sticky children, sweaty men and scantly clad women as holidaymakers made the most of the summer boom of the seaside city. Wallace figured even his favourite little alcove on the beach would be crowded with children playing in the rock pools, so there wasn’t anywhere to escape the crowds on such days.

Despite it meaning he’d probably be late meeting Erika, he had to get himself something for his splitting headache from the pharmacy. Hoping his day wouldn’t get any worse he hoped neither Lance nor Karen were there as Will had asked them to get him something that morning, and he wasn’t in the mood to put up with the pair. They were bad enough alone, but when they were together his stomach dropped.

They were cocky incarnate and he shuddered at the mental images that barraged his mind as he thought about the jobs they did together. Patrons really enjoyed being humiliated? Though he shouldn’t be surprised judging by what they had himself do…

If either of them were there he’d rather pass out in the street from the mind-numbing hammering.

Luckily they weren’t, but the strange keeper was there. The one people couldn’t tell if he were stoned or not.

A shuddering sigh escaped him as the air conditioning washed over him like a cool flannel. As usual the entire place was completely empty; he wondered how the place stayed open if it were always empty when he dropped by. Outside there wasn’t a square inch of empty space yet this pharmacy was devoid of any souls.

Nevertheless he sighed a lingering sigh as he passed through the delightful cold air and made his way to the counter. “Excuse me, do you have any especially strong paracetamols?” he asked, squinting at the keeper’s nametag.

“Painkillers’re on the third aisle,” the blonde behind the till said with a wispy voice. “I’m afraid I can’t give you more than a pack of thirty-two without a prescription.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” Wallace replied. How many times had be been here yet never learnt the keeper’s name? He strained his eyes more without trying to make it too obvious but his pounding head made the handwritten print unreadable.

“My name’s Morty,” the blonde told him, tapping the nametag. “My handwriting’s terrible…”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Wallace nodded to the man, “it’s fine. I’m just… third aisle you said? Thank you.”

As he stood feigning interest over the numerous brands he watched the blonde. The man had to be early-twenties but radiated the vibe of one in their autumn years - it was bizarre. Picking up a box of painkillers he flipped it to feign reading the chemical information and recommended dosage on the back and continued to watch the blonde. Not from the moment had he come in had the keeper - Morty? - moved an inch. He just stood behind the till and watched the movements of the tourists on the streets.

“People are fascinating,” he suddenly said causing Wallace to fumble with the box.

“What makes you say that?” he replied calmly while switching the box for another.

“I stand here watching them all day. These people all amble around blindly. Sometimes I wonder what they’re thinking, don’t you?” he didn’t wait for Wallace to comment. “Some teenagers came in earlier asking for aspirin. I couldn’t give them any without some ID so they threw a stone through the window.”

Wallace looked around at all the windows but none seemed to be smashed. “Children have no morals these days.”

“I would love to’ve known what they were thinking. People‘re fascinating.”

For the first time since he’d entered the shop the blonde slowly turned his head to look at him. Even though he worked as a male prostitute and had been paid to witness and perform some sickening acts, even those hadn’t given him such a cold flush compared to a mere shopkeeper turning to look at him.

Something about the blonde unnerved him in a way nothing else had.

Coughing suddenly he fingered for a random box of paracetamols and approached the till. The blonde followed his movements with lazy eyes. Creepy though he may seem, nothing would obstruct him from his painkillers on such a day. He paid quickly and left, not even relishing the cool blast of air on the way out.

At least he understood why the place was always empty now.

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He honestly couldn’t remember what Erika had wanted his help for. The woman was timid and polite but immensely independent. If he thought about it then Erika’s mood swings were worse than even Karen’s. Erika would respond to you in a very polite manner but it was the passive aggressiveness that wore people down over the course of the day, whereas Karen would out-right screech at you Erika would smile, then probably slip something into your drink. She’d caught many employees out that way, including Steven himself.

So it was odd that she’d called him for help - whatever he was helping for. Perhaps it was because she was in the top four of the company too, that she felt they needed to spend more time together. Lance and Karen certainly spent enough time together it was criminal. If he had a self-destructive personality he’d imagine what they got up to.

Though he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been called out for he could remember were to meet; behind the city post office. So it was somewhere public so it must just be an everyday thing he’d be helping with. Honestly he couldn’t remember when he’d gotten so paranoid to over think everything, he grumbled as he leaned against the office wall flipping his box of paracetamols over to the read the dosage.

It said to only take one if he hadn’t eaten in twelve hours and he hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Just the one it was then, he sighed as he flipped it into his mouth and swallowed. “Water might have been nice,” he grumbled to himself evidently missing his own pun.

For another five minutes he stood about waiting and eyeing the tourists charging about the streets and dodging cars. Am I late, or early? Is Erika late? He thought before a light scrabbling caught his attention. Turning to look down between two large dustbins he half expected to see a Zigzagoon potter out. He certainly didn’t expect to see the dark-haired girl he was waiting for to be pushed up against one of the bins with another girl latched to her.

“Hmmm…” he hummed, not amused.

The far taller girl towered over Erika as she grabbed the smaller woman’s face for a dominating kiss as Erika’s knees buckled under the demanding tongue. Though no sooner had the girl grabbed her then did she suddenly drop her and brush past Wallace as she left the alley with a haughty flick of hair. Slowly Erika pulled herself forward to brush off her clothes and slowly made her way over to her friend.

She looked up at her friend’s face as he stood back returning her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Erika?”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she replied softly and out of breath.

Wallace bowed his head. “Steven doesn’t know about this, does he?” he asked. The young woman shook her head. “It’s dangerous to be working outside of the club. What are you doing?”

Erika sighed and clasped her hands as she spoke. Her friend’s worried tone didn’t escape her. “I need the money, Wallace. Don’t we all? Steven pays good but it’s not enough to support my mother alone.”

Turning to stand back against the wall Wallace folded his arms across his chest and rested one foot against the wall. It was true they got paid substantially more than and average civil worker, but the demands of their lifestyle required such pay, and the cost of hospital treatment for a woman living-in wasn’t cheap either. Erika spent more than half her pay on hospital bills for her mother and practically lived in the club.

“I understand,” he stated softly before deciding to change the subject. Erika gave him a thankful glance as he continued; “what am I helping you with today?”

“Oh! Yes, I’d like some help in the fields outside the city. I heard Pomeg berries are very good for medicinal purposes, not just Pokemon. I thought I could mix something together for Will.”

Wallace marvelled at his friend’s kindness. She could probably sell her natural medicine at the local market for an impressive price but she chose to use it all to help the employees of the Pink Spinda. He smiled as he spoke, “Will just won’t admit he’s ill but he’ll appreciate your medicine, Erika. We’ll help him whether he likes it or not!”

The quiet woman threw him a delighted smile as she started moving down the pavement. The pair seemed to elegantly glide past all the holidaymakers and their panicked steps, their voices weaving between the frantic shouting and laughing as they made their way to the nearest bus leading out to the country.

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Even though it didn’t show on his face or in his voice Volkner was thrilled to extend his band’s contract with Steven Stone. Losing two members to another band had crippled them horribly before they’d discovered Sidney working his day job, but they’d only had him for three weeks and he was a little rusty at vocals. The punk didn’t seem to have much of an idea about the gigs they’d be playing, but he was an open-minded man when it came down to it, even if he did have a tendency to put his foot in his mouth.

Though the Pink Spinda wasn’t the type of gig that could be openly publicised it was immensely popular with locals and had made a name for itself in the seedy underworld years ago. All sorts of people paid the club a visit for their pleasures and their band would be advertised through word-of-mouth amongst the customers and they could be “discovered” and finally sign a music deal. The club had people of all classes, orientations, jobs and everything more coming every day… week and that was a large group to be advertised in.

He was positive Error could make it. They just needed a female vocalist to regain their former glory.

He looked across the desk at his continued contract holder as the man spoke. “There was really no need to worry, Volkner. Of course we’d continue to employ you here. You’re very popular among the patrons, you know?”

“Wallace said the same thing!” Flint interrupted from his seat next to the blonde. “I’m sure percussion is their favourite part.”

“Hah! Y’know drummers always get the least attention, right?” Sidney laughed from the corner of the room were there was a spare seat. He stretched out across the plush sofa, “vocals are always the girls’ favourite,” he leered.

“Take that back!” Flint complained before turning to his friend. “I’m a very good drummer,” he told Volkner.

“We know you are,” the bassist responded blankly before turning to the side with an exhausted sigh.

Steven grinned at the trio. Clearly Sidney fit perfectly into their group like a precise jigsaw piece. Volkner could feign disdain for them both but without them he’d live an exceptionally dull life. “You did the right thing keeping them quiet while we negotiated,” he laughed to the blonde.

“You have no idea,” Volkner replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Ringo Starr was a really bad drummer,” Sidney countered the redhead’s argument as Flint seethed at his band mate as he turned to the head of the club. “Yo, Stevie! What is with your hair anyway? How old are you?”

The son of the Devon head chuckled quietly. “I’ve always had grey hair ever since I was little. I could ask the same of your hair,” he quirked.

“Hey, my hair is awesome!” Sidney stated proudly. “Everyone’s just jealous when they make comments.”

“So’s mine!” Flint motioned to his impressive afro. “Volk’s boring.”

“That’s true,” the blonde agreed with a non-committed tone. “Anyway, Steven. We’ll see you at nine tonight,” he said while rising from his seat as Flint and Sidney mirrored him. “Come on, guys.”

Steven shook his head as they left his office, the arguing voices of the punk and redhead echoing back to him from down the hall. He started as the intercom on his desk alerted him Glacia was trying to reach him. Flicking on the switch he leaned in.

“Yes, Glacia?”

“Flint knocked over a potted plant on his way out. Shall I bill them the expense?” the secretary’s voice queried.

He laughed lightly again. “No, it’s fine. It’s nothing important.” he replied and took his finger from the intercom.

At least with Volkner’s group under him again it was one less thing to worry about, he thought as he glanced at the pile of newspapers sat against his desk. Against his will he slid the top one off to read it for the umpteenth time that day. Again that same picture of his father and Silph stared right back at him. He began to wonder if Lorelei Silph worried about their regional feud as much as he did…

Eventually one of the Corporations would launch a personal attack on the other and he knew full well both him and her would aim for the prostitution both of them ran alongside their PokeMart businesses. If word got out the law would swoop on them like Murkrow on a corpse and his father would get life behind bars. Not only that, but there were the mobs to watch out for. The Boss, Giovanni, had contacted him several times and it worried him greatly.

Either they’d all be arrested or killed depending on who caught them out.

Of course he could set the same trap for Silph Co, but then he’d be condemning them and he just couldn’t do that. Only if they struck would he retaliate.

Unless his father ordered him to first.

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As he continued to reread all the papers yet again his fingers were nearly as dark as the sky outside. Hours had passed since Error had left and he’d spent an entire rare free afternoon doing nothing productive, preferring to worry his lower lip over the same photo on all the front pages that he knew would become infamous soon enough.

Once again his secretary startled him from his thoughts as the intercom buzzed to life. He put the paper down and addressed the box on his desk. “We have five minutes before the club opens, Steven,” Glacia’s voice informed him.

“Very well,” his covered his anxiety well a he spoke. “If everything is in working order than have Bill open the doors.”

“Of course,” the voice replied before she cut the connection.

Had so much time passed so quickly? He was grateful Glacia was trustworthy and competent in her job that he could leave her to organise every little thing while he was busy or pre-occupied. It was nice she had the intuition to know when to not disturb him, but a good “snap out of it” slap would’ve been helpful this time. Apparently she had no qualms about being direct with him and hell, he appreciated her frankness.

He stretched his arms. The club was situated in the basement of the building with an average Devon PokeMart on every other level and offices in the back. He also had an office in the basement as from his main one nothing could be heard from the goings-on of the club and he liked to be around for his employees. Not one night went past without some incident or another.

Someone touched a waitress, someone grabbed one of the strippers, Karen or Lance (or both) went too far with their customers… he had to sort everything out when Glacia reported to him. Luckily he had a lift in his office that led from both his basement office to the one on the top floor directly. After the patrons had settled for the night he’d return to the basement for the night.

Resigning himself to the newspapers again his scanned the text about his father. Apparently naming the Corporation after his wife’s maiden name had earned his father some brownie points…

“Hey, Steven,” a voice drew him from his thoughts and his jumbled the paper from his hands back onto the pile. He looked up quickly as the figure speaking slowly made his way over to the desk.

He peered at the pale man shuffling towards him. The man seemed paler than usual and his sensual glide had been replaced with clumsy footfalls. “Wallace?” he asked unsure of the other’s intentions.

The Pink Spinda had opened. As much as he hated to think about it; Wallace should be down there working. But the breezy, unfocused expression the thin man gazed at him with explained partly why he was up in his office and not in the basement.

“Wallace?” he tried again, in a lighter tone. He jerked to his feet as his lover suddenly stumbled around the chair opposite him and fell face-first to the desk on his way to him.

He darted around to his side but remained reluctant to place hands on him. Wallace lifted his head from the desk as he fell to his knees leaning over it. “Steeeven… Erika’s a geeenius…” he slurred.

“What the hell!?” Steven worried his lip again. “What’s Erika done? Where is she? W-wh-?” his sentence was lost as Wallace threw himself from the desk at him.

Holding one arm loosely around Steven’s waist Wallace looked up at him, still on his knees. “Erika’s workin‘… I shud be wurking too…” he rattled while fingering Steven’s suit with his spare hand.

Gazing down at the foggy, dilated eyes Wallace had clearly taken some sort of drug before returning. Steven punched himself mentally. Clearly something had been wrong when his lover hadn’t come to see him before club hours - he always came to Steven first. But he’d been too wrapped up with worries of his father to notice the abnormality. Added to the extra stress of working a majority of Will’s regulars as well, Wallace was… well, it was all too obvious.

But Wallace wasn’t the type to use such escapism. Something or someone had happened.

Sternly he reached down and cupped the man’s face tightly. “Wallace, you have to tell me what’s happened to you.”

The blue-haired man froze sharply as he was held and spoken to before his eyes drifted closed and he fell limp. Steven jerked down to support the weight dropping to the floor before Wallace broke something from the awkward angle he fell.

“Ohh, what’s happened with you?” Steven asked the room as he carried the man to the sofa, bridal style. He laid him out straight and tilted his head to the side to ease his breathing and sat watching his chest rise and fall. Brushing his hand over Wallace’s forehead revealed what would probably turn into a dangerous fever.

For several minutes longer he sat on the floor beside the sick man, brushing his hand through that blue-green hair and running every single possible situation through his mind. Eventually he’d have to call the nurse but it was late and Jasmine had probably gone home for the evening. He’d have to call the main hospital and be careful about the club raging from below.

Quietly he crawled over to his desk and the phone, however just as he picked up the handset then did Glacia barge through his door.

“I’m sorry to intrude without notice but it’s urgent! Gary Oak is in the building!” she huffed as she spoke.

“What!?” Steven blanched.

“He and a friend had ordered Dark and Dragon! I sent Lance to retrieve Karen before anything bad happens, but his friend has disappeared. I’m at a loss, Steven; he’s nowhere to be found!”

Steven could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he couldn’t blame her. If word got back to Professor Oak then the highly respected Pokemon Professor would be with Silph riding on their backs to the police station.

“I have every available person out searching for the boy. He’s sixteen with dark hair and casual clothes - baggy trousers, T-shirt and open vest,” the secretary explained quickly.

He slammed the handset in his hand back onto the holster. How could he let something slip by him like that? Gritting his teeth he swapped glances with his clenched fists to Wallace on the sofa. Glacia hovered around him with a worried air - this was above her after all - as she followed his eyes.

“Oh my!” she gasped, coving her mouth with both hands while looking at Wallace. She dashed over to him, “Steven what happened?” She ran her hand across the unconscious man’s forehead. “He’s burning up, Steven! We have to call Jasmine!”

When she received no immediate answer she looked up to the man she held great respect for. “Steven?”

A long agitated sigh left the man as he stood up straight. “Glacia. Please take Wallace to Jasmine. I’ll find the boy.”

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