A while later, as May, Max, and Brock were looking through the shops, Ash found them after he finished his business. Ash waved them over, his hands in his jacket pockets, relaxed, smiling like he hadn't just vanished for hours, with Pikachu and Vee striding up beside him.
May blinked once. Then twice, "…You're back already?"
Ash tilted his head, "Already?"
Brock checked his watch, "…It's been almost three hours."
Ash shrugged, "Huh. Felt shorter."
Max squinted at him. Hard, "You said this would take less than an hour."
"I said probably less than an hour," Ash corrected easily, "Very important distinction."
May narrowed her eyes, "Uh-huh. And did you catch it?"
Ash reached into his pocket, held up a Poké Ball, and spun it on his finger, "Yep."
"What was it?" Max leaned in, "Was it strong? Rare? Coastal Pokémon have really interesting—"
"Nope." Ash stuck his finger out, shaking it, "No spoilers. You'll find out when I use her," he said with a smile.
Ash tucked the Poké Ball back into his pocket and rocked back on his heels, "So," he said, glancing between them, "anything else you guys wanna do? Or are we ready to hit the road? I'm good either way."
May hesitated, then looked back toward the shops they'd been browsing, "I mean… I did still want to check for ribbons and accessories. And maybe shoes. And—"
"And snacks," Brock added immediately.
May shot him a look, "Those don't count."
"They absolutely count," Brock said seriously, "Morale is important."
Ash laughed, "See? This is why I trust him with supplies." He gestured with his thumb toward the mall, "We've got time. I'm not in a rush."
Max's eyes lit up, "Oh! Actually—" he cut in quickly, pushing his glasses up, "Brock, didn't you say you wanted to check the outdoor gear store again? The one with the climbing ropes and cookware?"
Brock blinked, "I did?"
"Yeah," Max nodded rapidly, "You said you needed a new… uh… drying pan!"
"…That does sound like something I'd say," Brock admitted, rubbing his chin.
Max clapped his hands together, cutting them off, "ANYWAY. Point is, we've got errands." He grabbed Brock's sleeve with suspicious enthusiasm, "Important errands. Very boring errands. Extremely… uh… educational."
Brock frowned, "Why are you dragging me like that?"
"Because you're my legal guardian right now," Max said smoothly, "Come on. Drying pans wait for no one."
He hauled Brock halfway down the corridor before Brock could properly argue, leaving Ash and May standing there in the middle of the mall.
There was a beat.
Then Ash glanced between them, "…Huh."
May crossed her arms, watching Max's retreating back, "He's being weird."
"What was your first guess?" Ash said.
She huffed, "That was absolutely on purpose."
Ash tilted his head and chuckled, "You think so?"
"Yes," May said flatly, "I know so."
Ash watched them disappear, then looked back at May, hands still in his jacket pockets, "So," he said lightly, rocking back on his heels, "round two? Or are we calling it and hitting the road?"
May blinked, then gestured vaguely back toward the shops, "I mean… I still wanted to look at ribbons. And accessories. And maybe shoes. Definitely accessories."
Ash nodded solemnly, "A noble quest."
She snorted despite herself, "You're not allowed to judge. You literally just vanished for three hours and came back like nothing happened."
"I judge nothing," Ash said, raising his hands, "I support all shopping-based endeavors. I can even carry bags. I'm very skilled at that."
"Oh really?"
"Years of experience," he said proudly, "Misty and Green trained me. Ruthlessly."
May laughed, shaking her head, "Okay. Fine. One more round."
They started walking, heading off to do some more shopping before they left town again.
—
Meanwhile, back at the Battle Frontier, a few days had passed since the opening ceremony.
Since then, they'd been having exhibition battles almost nonstop, rotating between facilities as the Frontier Brains showcased their skills against rental Pokémon, high-tech hologram challengers, or each other. And the press ate it up.
But ever since the first day, Noland hadn't appeared once.
At first, no one thought anything of it. If anyone had an excuse to vanish for days at a time, it was him. The Battle Factory didn't manage itself, and that place dealt with all the rental Pokémon. Scott waved off questions with ease, explaining that Noland was "deep in calibration mode," and the reporters accepted it without hesitation.
But then things started getting weird.
For one, none of them had heard from him at all. That was strange even for Noland, especially after his bird friend Articuno had disappeared. Then they noticed something else, the rental Pokémon coming out were the same dozen or so. There should have been hundreds of rental Pokémon, almost one of each species, so why was it repeating so often?
They wanted to ask questions, but they had to act calmly. If they didn't, and the reporters caught wind of it, things could go bad. The Battle Frontier held the same popularity and public trust as Gym Leaders; protecting that reputation was half the reason Scott had created it. The other half was to see good battles.
And that led to today's match.
The arena lights flared brightly inside the Battle Dome, reflecting off the transparent structure as the crowd settled in. This was supposed to be a highlight, the highlight.
Anabel stood at the edge of the field, hands loosely folded behind her back. She could feel all the cameras on her, and she didn't like situations like this at all.
Scott stood beside her, practically buzzing, "Frontier Brain versus Frontier Brain," he stage-whispered, grinning like a kid, "Everyone's been asking when you'd finally step in!"
"I never agreed to—" Anabel began.
"Oh, but you did," Scott cut in cheerfully, already waving toward the cameras, "You just didn't know it yet."
Across the field, Lucy stretched lazily, Seviper coiled at her feet, "C'mon, Tower Queen," she teased, her smirk sharp, "All this hype, and now you're gonna leave us hanging?"
Greta leaned over the barrier, elbows resting on the rail, "I kinda wanna see what you can do too," she added honestly.
Anabel exhaled through her nose, "…Fine," she said at last.
The crowd perked up instantly. Camera drones shifted, lenses zooming in as Scott clapped his hands together in triumph.
"That's the spirit!" he said, "All right, everyone, this will be an-"
He never finished the sentence.
A staff member burst into the arena tunnel at a half-run, nearly tripping over themselves as they skidded to a stop near the field. Their face was pale, eyes wide, breath uneven.
Scott frowned, "Hey—hey, what's going on? You're on a live floor."
The staff member swallowed hard, glancing instinctively at the hovering cameras, then leaned in close, lowering their voice as they whispered, "Sir," they said urgently, "we… we found Noland."
Scott's smile didn't fade. He nodded, keeping his usual grin, even though he could tell by the staffer's voice that it wasn't good.
"Found him?" Scott repeated lightly, just loud enough for nearby microphones to catch, "Ah, excellent! I'm sure he's just buried himself in diagnostics again."
The staff member continued whispering, "He's in the medical ward," they said, their voice barely steady, "He's unconscious."
Scott clapped a hand on the staffer's shoulder and kept smiling, "Overworked genius," he laughed, turning slightly toward the cameras, "Happens to the best of us, right, folks?"
A few reporters chuckled. Seeing Scott's smile, they assumed it was something minor.
But the Frontier Brains knew better. Scott was great at hiding everything behind a grin, and the Battle Frontier held the same reputation as Gym Leaders, a place that protected people with powerful trainers.
Anabel frowned and straightened fully, "Scott."
Scott leaned closer to her, voice still upbeat, smile still fixed, but his words were clenched through his teeth, "Not here."
Then Scott raised his voice for everyone to hear and clapped his hands, "Right," he said briskly, "Small delay, everyone! Technical thing! Please enjoy a brief intermission, refreshments are available!"
As the crowd buzzed with confused chatter, Scott turned sharply away from the cameras, lowered his sunglasses, and looked at the Frontier Brains, gesturing with his eyes for them to follow.
He turned and walked into the facilities. Following behind him were Greta, Tucker, Lucy, Spenser, Brandon, and Anabel.
The moment the arena doors slid shut behind them, the noise dropped away, and Scott's grin vanished the instant they were out of sight.
"Where," he said flatly, pulling off his sunglasses as he turned to the staffer, "is he?"
"This way," the staff member said quickly, already moving, "We took him to the medical ward, lower level."
They didn't need to be told twice.
Greta's earlier excitement was gone, replaced by a tight frown as she jogged alongside Scott. Lucy's smirk had faded into something sharper. Tucker, usually smiling, now frowned, fists clenched as he followed.
Spenser walked calmly, but his grip on his staff had tightened. Brandon said nothing at all, long strides eating up the distance.
Anabel lingered at the rear for half a second, then lengthened her steps to match them. Her hands came up to grip the scarf around her neck as she took a steadying breath before hurrying after them.
When they reached the medical ward, the smell hit them first, the distinct scent of antiseptic and sterile air. When the door opened, they saw Noland lying on the central bed, hooked up to multiple monitors. His jacket had been removed and rested carefully on a nearby table. A faint bandage wrapped around the back of his neck and head. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.
Greta stopped short, "…Oh no. Noland, what happened?"
"What does it look like?" Tucker replied, crossing his arms, "Someone attacked him, and he hasn't regained consciousness yet."
Lucy swore under her breath.
Spenser, who entered last due to his slower pace, stepped inside and asked, "How is he?"
A medic stepped forward hesitantly, "He was found in one of the lower Factory levels," they explained in a low voice, "There are signs of blunt force trauma to the back of the neck. No fractures. He's stable, but we don't know when, or if, he'll wake up."
"And," another added hesitantly, "from what the people who found him said, apparently all the rental Pokémon, or at least most of them, have been taken."
The room went very still.
"…Blunt force?" Greta repeated slowly.
"And all of them?" Brandon continued.
"That's not comforting…" Lucy said, eyes narrowing.
Greta drew a shaky breath, "So… someone knocks Noland out, steals most of the rental Pokémon, and does it inside one of the most secure facilities in the region."
Tucker ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear, "And somehow does it without tripping every alarm we have? That's not some random thief."
Lucy's tail flicked irritably as Seviper shifted beside her, "Yeah. That's someone who knew where to go. And when."
Scott folded his arms, jaw tight, "What about the Factory logs?"
"Wiped," the medic added quietly, "Or… overwritten. We're still checking."
Brandon's eyes darkened, "Premeditated."
Voices overlapped for a moment, speculation, anger, disbelief, until Anabel spoke.
"May I?"
It wasn't loud. She didn't raise her voice at all. But they heard her anyway, and everyone looked at her.
Anabel had stepped closer to the bed without anyone quite noticing when she'd moved. Her posture was different now. She stood straighter, studying Noland's body like an investigator.
The doctor in charge blinked, "Uh—Anabel, this is a medical—"
She didn't look at him. Her eyes were on Noland.
"I won't interfere," she said calmly, "I just want to look."
Spenser studied her for a long moment, then inclined his head slightly, "Go on."
Anabel stepped right up to the bedside.
Greta watched, confused, as Anabel's gaze didn't go to the bandage, the monitors, or the wound at his neck. Instead, it drifted lower. She crouched to get a better look, this was familiar ground for her. She still had training with the International Police, and she was still a detective, even if she kept that part a secret
Her eyes caught something. Something faintly shining near his hands.
Anabel reached out.
Tucker stiffened, "Hey," he started to stop her, or at least question her, but it was too late.
Anabel gently took Noland's hand in hers as everyone else hesitated, unsure whether to intervene or see what she was doing.
She turned his hand slightly, angling it toward the overhead light. Her thumb brushed once over the pads of his fingers, then she leaned in closer, eyes narrowing.
"…There," she murmured.
Her gaze swept the room until she spotted cotton swabs. She grabbed one and, to everyone's surprise, began gently scraping beneath Noland's fingernails.
Lucy blinked, "What are you—"
But then a faint shimmer caught the light.
Anabel slowed, repeating the motion on another finger. Then a third.
Each time, the same result. A fine silver powder collected on the swab.
She straightened slowly, releasing Noland's hand as carefully as she'd taken it.
"There's residue," she said.
Scott frowned, "Residue?"
"It's not blood," Anabel continued evenly, holding the swab closer to her eyes as she studied it, "And it's not skin or fabric fibers, which is odd, considering this was a close-range attack."
"Then what is it?" Greta asked.
Anabel glanced around the room, then at the doctor, "May I borrow a specimen tray? And tweezers. Sterile, if possible."
The doctor hesitated, but nodded after a moment and ran to a supply closet. They grabbed the necessary supplies and handed them to Anabel.
Anabel was already putting on gloves. She accepted the tray and tweezers and moved in close again, carefully collecting as much of the powder as she could from beneath Noland's fingernails.
When she had gathered all she could, she sealed the tray and finally looked up, "It seems Noland managed to graze the attacker and picked up some of whatever material this is."
She glanced down at Noland, "Based on where he was hit, I'd say it was a surprise attack. The damage is minimal, so it was likely only one strike. It nearly knocked him out, but in the few seconds he remained conscious, he managed to scrape whoever did it."
Anabel looked to the doctor, "Is there a lab here?"
The doctor flinched slightly, understanding what she was asking, "Um… technically, yes. But it's not meant for analyzing metals."
"It'll do," Anabel said calmly, "I just need a quick analysis."
The doctor hesitated, then glanced at Scott. Scott nodded, and the doctor took the vial and left to send it to the lab.
Anabel then turned back to the staff member who had brought them in, "Take me to the room, and try to reconstruct the scene as best as you can so I can—"
Tucker held up both hands, palms out, "Okay, hold on. Time out." He looked between Anabel, the swab, and Noland on the bed, "How did you even think to check that? And maybe we should slow down before we start poking around crime scenes like we're in a mystery drama."
Lucy crossed her arms, "Yeah. Not saying you're wrong," she added, eyes flicking to the tray, "but that was… specific."
Anabel sighed, "It's because if someone hit him from behind," she said evenly, gesturing toward Noland, "and he stayed conscious long enough to fall forward, then logically most people would try to turn and fight back, or at least see who did it."
She gestured lightly toward Noland's hand, "And if that happened, and there was a struggle, which is why I want to see the scene, we'd expect to find skin cells, fabric fibers, blood, hair… something."
Brandon's voice was low, "And instead?"
"Instead," Anabel said, "we have this metallic residue. Which means whoever did this was wearing some kind of armor. And let's be honest, how many people can walk around in armor without being noticed? It doesn't just happen."
Spenser studied her closely now, eyes sharp beneath his calm expression, "You speak with confidence."
Anabel realized she was letting her detective side show. She coughed quickly into her hand, "Um… it's not that hard. I'm just really confident in my observation skills."
The doctor cleared his throat nervously, "If… if it helps, the lab should have preliminary results within the hour."
"Thank you," Anabel said, "Please get that to us as soon as you can. It could give us a clue."
Scott had been silent through all of this, arms folded as he thought. Then he exhaled sharply and clapped once.
"All right," he said, "That's enough for this room."
Everyone looked at him.
Scott straightened, the showman's mask sliding back into place just enough to be useful, "Brandon, Spenser, you two come with me back out to the press. Lucy, Greta, and Tucker, go with Anabel. It looks like she knows what she's doing."
"Wait, what?" Greta and Tucker said in unison.
"You heard me." Scott raised a finger, "This is what we need to do. One: we keep the opening ceremony going for the press. If we cancel, we'll have to explain why, and that creates panic. And panic gives whoever is behind this an opportunity to act again, if they're still here." He raised a second finger, "And two: all Frontier Brains are to focus their efforts on capturing the criminal behind this, by any means necessary, before this gets out to the public."
"You think they might still be here?" Brandon asked.
Scott didn't answer. He just put his smile back on, like he knew something they didn't.
"All right, if we have the plan, let's go," Scott said as he turned, "Everyone, good luck. Fill me in on what you find." He marched out cheerfully.
"Wha—he didn't answer the question though…" Tucker muttered.
"We'll keep an eye on him. You guys try to find out what happened," Brandon said, looking at the others.
Spenser nodded, tapping his cane slightly, "Good luck. I wish the best for you all."
Then Brandon and Spenser left the room, leaving the other team alone.
Anabel sighed and looked at the staff member, "Like I said before, take us to the room and tell us exactly how it was. Leave nothing out."
—
The lower levels of the Battle Factory felt nothing like the arenas above.
Here, the air was cooler, and with what they now knew, everyone was on edge, half-expecting someone to jump out at them.
In the basement, they saw row after row where Poké Balls should have been, now all empty. Someone had really come through and stolen everything.
Anabel slowed the moment they entered the corridor, studying the scene while mentally reviewing everything the staff member had told her.
Greta noticed immediately, "…You see something?"
"Not yet," Anabel said, focusing as her skills went to work. Her eyes faintly glowed pink.
You see, Anabel had detective training and psychic powers. Over time, she'd learned how to combine them, developing something that let her reconstruct events using her psychic powers and physical evidence. It was like a detective vision
Meanwhile, Greta, Lucy, and Tucker continued talking behind her, their voices overlapping.
"So you're telling me," Tucker said, arms folded tight, "someone walks into the most secure Pokémon rental facility on the planet, knocks out the guy who runs it, wipes the logs, and walks off with basically an army—"
"—without tripping alarms," Greta finished, jaw clenched, "That doesn't make sense."
Lucy kicked lightly at the floor, "It does if the alarms never mattered to begin with."
Greta frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lucy shrugged, "Means either they knew how to bypass everything… or they didn't need to."
Meanwhile, Anabel finally got a clear view of the scene. In her mind, the reconstruction began to play out, Noland's semi-transparent form moving through the corridor, working at a terminal.
Then another semi-transparent figure appeared behind him… and raised its arm.
Anabel stopped, focusing on the facts. The way Noland had been struck implied the attacker was taller than him, but if they were big and allegedly wearing metal armor, where had they been positioned?
She rewound the scene in her head, watching the figure step backward toward a shelf. She stopped the reconstruction and walked over to that exact spot, passing Lucy, Greta, and Tucker.
Dropping to one knee, she examined the floor. There, she found more metallic dust, and what looked like an indentation, as if something sharp had pressed into the ground.
"So," Anabel said, straightening slightly, "whoever did this was likely male, around 1.8 meters tall. And like I thought, he was probably wearing some kind of full plate armor, based on the indentations in the floor. He was also likely carrying a sword, which means he was armed."
"…Wow. You can tell all that from just a few seconds?" Tucker blinked, crossing his arms.
"Yeah," Greta added, tilting her head, "What are you, some kind of detective or something?"
Anabel blinked and laughed nervously, "I—er, no, no. I just… had a lot of practice. Well, um, yeah. I wanted to be a detective when I was little, but it never worked out. You know how it is." She lied smoothly, then hurried on, "Anyway, I think I can tell how things happened here."
Anabel pointed to a spot near the computer, "What likely happened is that the armored man snuck up behind Noland and struck him with his hand, not a weapon. His weapon was probably a sword, and we don't have any slashing injuries, so he wasn't trying to kill Noland."
She then pointed to the floor in front of that spot, "Noland probably fell, and the assailant stepped over him to get to his real target, the database."
She moved toward the computer, "When he did that, Noland must have reached out and tried to grab his leg. That's how we got the metal residue under his nails."
Lucy nodded, "It makes sense. But what was he after, then?"
Anabel sighed, "That's what I'm trying to find."
She leaned over the keyboard, studying the keys without touching them. Under the faint emergency lighting, tiny sparkles glimmered across the surface.
"Got it," Anabel murmured.
She rapidly ran through every possible pattern the marks could represent. It only took five seconds. Her eyes snapped open.
"I've got it!"
She moved to the terminal and began typing. A page pulled up, information on Jirachi.
What stood out immediately was that the database showed signs of deliberate deletion.
Anabel frowned. She was good with computers. Whoever had done this had likely saved everything onto a USB device before deleting it. Still, data like this could be recovered, it would just take time.
"…You've gotta be kidding me," Tucker muttered.
Greta went still, "That's a Mythical."
Lucy's eyes narrowed, "That's not supposed to be here."
She let out a slow breath through her teeth, "So that armored creep knocked him out mid-session."
"And took everything," Greta added, "All the rental Pokémon, too."
Tucker frowned, "Why take the rentals if all he wanted was Jirachi?"
The girls slowly turned to look at him with a blank stare. He blinked, then quickly waved his hands in front of him to defend himself, "Wait, not like that. Yes, this is bad that he's after Jirachi, but also I can't be the only one wondering why he took all the rental Pokémon!"
Anabel didn't answer right away. Her eyes drifted to the lower corner of the display, "I don't know, but that also brings up the question, why did he want Jirachi? There's only one reason anyone would want Jirachi: it's to have their wish granted." As she said that, something suddenly occurred to her, making her freeze for a moment. A wish…
The other three didn't notice her zoning out. Tucker just tapped his head, knocking on it, "Grrr, this is all so complicated. Okay, so we know what he's after, but we don't know why, or even who it supposedly is."
"I guess we should probably get to Scott and tell him about this," Greta suggested, crossing her arms.
"Yes, if we do that, we could come up with a plan all together," Lucy nodded.
Anabel coughed into her hand, "Um, you all can go on without me. I might be able to recover some things from this."
"Wait, isn't being alone the entire reason Nolan got hurt? That's kind of a terrible idea," Greta frowned.
Anabel waved her off, "It's fine. If the person was here, I would have seen them in our investigation. Besides, if he got what he wanted, there would be no reason for him to return, especially since he knows we're on guard now."
"Well… I guess it makes sense…" Tucker muttered.
"Still, being alone is a bad idea. How about this, I'll stay here with you and keep watch. Tucker, Greta, go tell Scott and the others what we found out. We'll be here."
"Well… that's definitely better…" Tucker rubbed his chin.
Greta sighed, "Okay, fine. But you guys better be careful. Come on, Tucker, let's hurry." She turned to walk out.
"Right, don't leave me alone!" Tucker called as he ran out after her.
Lucy sighed and was about to ask Anabel something, but when she turned, Anabel was too focused on working at the computer. So she sighed again, looked around, and found a chair to sit in.
Meanwhile, Anabel was thinking to herself. If this was true, then she had another big reason to get to the bottom of this. After all, it wasn't the first time she'd pulled an all-nighter, compared to desk duty at the International Police headquarters, this was nothing.