Today, the two men would be after the same man, but for different people. And while Callan opted to blend in with the Rockets, Thomas instead stalked through the shadows, using the compromised phones of the Rockets to track them thanks to his own Porygon.

As he bumped into one who wasn't on his radar, Thomas would also get ready to draw a Pokeball. That was, until the man pulled down his mask, and spoke to him. It was then that Thomas calmed down.

"Callan. You after the man who runs this place?", he'd whisper back.

He figured he was after the Councilwoman, given his position as Elite Four.

---

tags: Callan Young
notes: tl;dr

Under the dim and fluctuating lights of the hideout, Thomas was an eerie figure. He moved through the shadows like a phantom, a predator in his element, his menace amplified by the low, uncertain hum of the compromised Rocket tech. Callan, having known Thomas for a while, found him almost unrecognizable in the dim light.

"Yeah, based on the kidnappings." Callan's reply came in a low whisper, barely piercing the humming background. His gloved hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving a cloned keycard.

With a swift, practiced move, he slid the card through a nearby door, the lock giving way with a muted click. He nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside and beckoning Thomas to follow, before securing the door behind them.

In the relative safety of the room, his Porygon-Z-- Futaba, beeped softly, her holographic form flickering as she worked to mask their presence from the surveillance cameras.

Callan pulled out his phone, flipping it around to show Thomas an image.

The man in the picture was unremarkable, save for the heavy acne marring his face and an ugly scar slashing across his neck. His plainness was almost a disguise in itself, a mask that allowed him to blend into the background, invisible to those who didn't know to look for him.

Callan broke the silence, his voice barely louder than the rustling of his jacket. "You wanna look for him together? I'm planning on putting him in a trance but..." He trailed off, glancing at Thomas, his eyes serious under the harsh fluorescent light.

"Thomas, he's gotta be alive for my plan to work, are you good with that? He can't know he's been messed with."The question hung in the air between them. Callan knew of Thomas's reputation, his predilection for violence. He was hoping there'd be no bodies, then again, if it was the former E4 doing the work, it might have been a good coverup, regardless.

Thomas' own Porygon would work to assist the Elite Four's own distorted Porygon in protecting them from the security cameras in place. With two working together, surely it would be much easier.

Thomas looked at the picture of the man in question. He was just as the thug he interrogated days earlier had described. Mostly unremarkable, save for the scars.

"I wasn't planning on violence, anyway.", he whispered to Callan. "I'm also looking for someone. I can't confirm if she had also been abducted by Rocket, but they are a safe bet. And if anyone can confirm that, it's probably him.", he whispered to Callan.

Beheeyem and Malamar made for good interrogators. And if Thomas could get access to their data, it would probably help their case.

"I was gonna steal a uniform, blend in with the others, but finding a fitting uniform has been surprisingly difficult.", he told the man, who's uniform was clearly ill fitting. Clearly, Callan had a difficult time finding a decent fit as well. "So if you can help deal with the cameras, my Zoroark can cast an Illusion, disguise me and herself as Grunts."

---

tags: Callan Young
notes: tl;dr

A slight nod was his silent agreement to the plan, "Let's keep in touch on comms."

Callan found the security room with a solitary grunt, whose attention was more absorbed in the TV series on his Rotom phone than his surroundings.

Callan's hand moved almost imperceptibly, releasing Zenos, his Spinda, into the room. "Hypnotize him," he whispered.

Zenos tip-toed up to the unsuspecting grunt and tapped his shoulder. As the man turned, the Spinda's eyes glowed and swirled, casting an immediate trance over him. The door to the room was quietly closed behind them as Callan's spoke to the entranced grunt, "What's your name?"

"Ferrell." Came his slurred reply.

He instructed the entranced grunt to sift through the screens for their quarry.

The image of a man, marred by heavy acne and a scarred neck, soon flickered to life on one of the monitors.

Callan then inserted a Dubious Disc into the camera system, and the Porygons did the rest.

The feeds from all the cameras started looping footage from ten minutes prior. His hands moved to his comms, tapping a button to establish connection.

"Thomas," Callan's voice, steady and cool, relayed through the line. "The cameras are down, and I found our new friend. He's in room 402, he's with another person, watching TV." The undercurrent of anticipation and readiness, though unspoken, was palpable in his question.

Thomas waited in the shadows for his successor to finish his work on the camera room. Once he got the signal from Callan, he'd bring out not only his Zoroark, but his Malamar as well. Thomas would signal to the Zoroark to disguise them all as Rockets.

Thomas would take on the form of a Rocket with a facemask and red eyes, without the scar on his face. Zoroark would take the form of a female grunt with black hair with red highlights. Essex would take the guise of a burly Rocket with long, messy hair.

The trio made their way to Room 402. Thomas would knock on the man's door with a sense of urgency.

"Yeah!?", the man shouted from the other side of the door.

"Got a message from Underboss Beckett! Says it's urgent, and to be delivered in person!", Thomas called out to the occupants.

Suddenly, their attitude changed, as the man turned off the television, rushing to the door.

"Come in!", he told the trio, inviting them inside the room.

As they all took a seat, the Malamar would immediately begin to hypnotize the duo, quickly putting them under his spell. The brief state of alarm at seeing the Malamar manifest quickly became a submissive one.

Thomas' Porygon would immediately leap into the man's phone, beginning a process of Downloading what data was on there.

"Andraste Breathnach, what do you know about her?", Thomas inquired, getting down to brass tacks.

"Some Galarian socialite. Some Galarian operatives took out her mom and brother, and ever since, she's been trying to get at us. Though it's been several months since we heard shit about her.", the man poured out to Thomas in a dull manner.

With the man's confession, Thomas realized that Rocket likely wasn't responsible for her disappearance. That was, unless he had zero involvement or knowledge of it. But if what he heard about the man was true, then he would've likely been informed of Rocket handling her.

---

tags: Callan Young
notes: tl;dr

Callan took a final glance at the Rocket guard, the eyes of the man were still vacant. The fear had dissipated, replaced with an calm stupor. Callan's voice was low, reassuring, as he spoke. "You never saw me, you fell asleep while on guard, you've been tired, you should check if you're getting a fever."

"Man... I must be sick or something..." came the mumbled reply.

With the guard taken care of, Callan's navigated out the room.

He consulted his phone, the blips from his Rotom painting a path clear of stray Rockets. "Which way, Futaba?" His words were met with a tiny beep, as a series of digital breadcrumbs lead him on.

Two flights of stairs, a neglected corridor and then, finally, Room 402.

Inside, the scene was almost comical. The hypnotized duo were slack and eyes vacant. Callan slipped in silently, closing the door behind him. Eyeing the acne-scarred man with a gash on his neck, he joined up beside Thomas.

"What do you know about Elinor Anderson? Where is she?" He demanded.

The response was immediate, but not what Callan wanted to hear. "Oh, that's easy... She's in the Rocket prison."

"Where?"

"I don't know, man... I just do the moving... I ain't nobody."

That wasn't going to deter Callan. "Who knows?"

"Underbosses... Beasts... you won't find them... so easy."

Callan pushed harder, "Where's this prison? How do we get in?"

The man was clearly struggling, the edges of the hypnotic state fraying. "You can't... man... I can't... they'll kill me..."

Callan's clicked his tongue. Okay... time for a different approach.

"It's alright, I have authorization. I'm new, that's all."

With the fear displaced, Morty spilled the tea. "Oh... sorry sir... you gotta have a card... the encryption changes every twelve hours... you gotta have permission. But this is the place..."

With the information extracted, Callan took a step back, laying the final hypnotic command. "We were never here, you've been watching movies the entire time, no one entered the room. You'll wake up in thirty minutes."

Callan turned to Thomas, "I don't think I can enter the prison safely with a card. But... how would you do it?" His gaze was steady.

"Would you be willing to help out?"

Once he had asked what he wanted to ask, Thomas stepped aside, and allowed Callan to question the man. Strangely, he was somewhat resistant to divulging answers, despite the spell he was under. But Callan found a way, and got what was needed.

As Callan turned to him, Thomas looked him in the eye.

"First idea that comes to mind is having someone go into the prison, and wreaking havoc on the inside.", he'd whisper to Callan. "If they were to come prepared with some way of escaping the restraints, and dealing with the locks, then they could wreak havoc on the inside, while searching for the person who can escape. And while we can't exactly teleport into the prison, given that our Pokemon have never been on the inside, they could teleport the person out.", he'd elaborate, still maintaining a whisper.

"I'll help however I can.", he'd tell Callan.

---

tags: Callan Young
notes: tl;dr

Callan fell into silence from Thomas's suggestions.

His mind raced with a hundred different factors and methods, butall of them were vague, shadow concepts that could be broken by any number of countermeasures the Rockets have in place.

No matter how well-prepared the infiltrator, unforeseen variables will happen.

Even with the malleability that Pokemon offered, all they had were may be stumbling blocks.

Callan's eyes met Thomas's, nodding as the man accepted. It was good, good to know that he had a friend in Thomas. A friend that he sorely lacked in the League. "Thank you... really. I owe you one, brother." It was reassuring, grounding even amidst the chaos of their predicament.

"I guess we'll have to do our homework first," he finally responded, his tone calm and measured. "Let's get outta here first. Lets send the data to Lars, afterwards we can discuss about it." Without waiting for a response, Callan pushed himself off the wall. Taking out his Gardevoir for a quick, and easy Teleport for the both of them out of this hole.

Once they were safely out, Callan takes out a pack of cigarettes. The warped location was Maractus, his bar, and usually only served one customer: Himself. He offers one to Thomas, before moving to the cabinet and taking out an opened bottle of Jack, pouring bourbon into two whiskey tumblers. He slides one over to Thomas.

"Could you send me a copy of the phone as well? Might be pretty useful in the future." Once everything was done, they'd be able to discuss about the way to break Elly out again.

He was not looking forward to that meeting.

"Of course.", he'd tell Callan.

Truth be told, he missed this sort of thing. Over time, he began to realize that the path he was going down was the wrong one. That instead of working with the League to address and rectify their problems, his solo act had only caused more chaos in the region, caused the citizens to be even more terrified.

Despite his best efforts, despite keeping them out of the crossfire, they were afraid that the Phantom might come after them next. That was the last thing he ever wanted.

Meanwhile, actually working with the League, actually saving lives for a change, felt good to him. It was the same feeling he got when he saved Vanilla Kingsley from those thugs. The feeling that he actually did something good, something useful. And that he wasn't just another monster, another butcher that went after other monsters and butchers.

Thomas would recall his Zoroark and Malamar, while his Porygon jumped back to his phone. He would allow his Gardevoir to teleport them to safety. Thomas would chuckle to himself as he ended up in the interior of the bar. He would reject both the cigarette and whiskey. "I appreciate the offer, but I've been sober for almost two years now.", he'd tell Callan.

"Sure.", he'd reply to Callan, having his Porygon create two duplicates of the cloned data, one for Lars, and one for Callan. He'd keep the original clone for his own uses.

---

tags: Callan Young
notes: tl;dr