Phero had handled the situation reasonably well, considering. And Yamamoto's support was a welcome surprise. Perhaps this mission wouldn't be as much of a headache as Lerraine had been anticipating.
"Some things just don't have a price," Phero concluded, and indeed, truer words had never been spoken.
"Well, that's too bad," Noland said—and though he said the words with a casual shrug, there was something troubling about the way his expression shifted. How his eyes slanted, sharp and critical; how the corner of his mouth stretched in a manner that suggested…disapproval? Disappointment? Bah. It was times like these that Lerraine wished her empathy with Pokemon extended toward human beings. How much easier life would be then, without all this constant, paranoia-fueled examination of other people's motives.
They descended through the trapdoor and into the ground, Noland leading the way—an implicit compromise on his part, as it was clear that none of the Catalyst members wished to go in first and, in doing so, expose their backs. The passage was cramped and unimpressive, lit with small electric bulbs that ran along the walls on bundles of string. The weak light painted the floor and walls in long shadows, throwing every feature of the passage in stark relief. Patches of darkness littered the tunnel, doing nothing to alleviate the prospect of a sudden ambush.
Something tugged at Lerraine's mind—a mental itch. Something that nagged at her brain, something that felt highly uncomfortable. As the company ventured deeper into the tunnel, the discomfort seemed to only intensify—crawling, throbbing, scratching—
[help]
For a split second, her step faltered. Then her calm walking pace resumed.
[pain]
Lerraine prodded at Ever with her mind. 'Ever, can you feel that?'
'…Yeah. Yeah, I can.'
'What do you think…'
'Hang on.' The Starmie's central gem began to give off a slight glow, a psychosomatic response to high levels of psychic activity. The flashing colors were barely perceptible, but Lerraine covered a hand over her pocket anyway. No need to alert anyone of Ever's presence.
Distress. Distress, distress, horror, distress. Lerraine clenched a fist, trying not to react to the waves of agitation pouring off of the tiny Starmie.
'What do you see, Ever?'
'I…I see—'
[fear] [hurt] [rage]
It was at this point that Ever switched from words to images, and then Lerraine saw it too. It was hard to comprehend at first, since the Starmie didn't see the world the same way that humans did, but after a bit of mental sifting, Lerraine understood.
Pokémon trafficking. Lerraine regarded Ever's images gravely—while she wasn't particularly happy about the development, she wasn't exactly surprised, either. She had a feeling of something similar since Noland's offhand comment about Phero's Ninetales.
'Ever, calm down.' Because, yes, it was upsetting, but it wasn't like it was anything they hadn't seen before.
'We have to help,' Ever urged, and Lerraine marveled at the Starmie's ineffable sense of idealism. Maybe, given a little more time and planning, she could work something out—goodness knew she didn't approve of this kind of business—but it was unrealistic, unpractical. Too many unknowns, too much risk. Too little time.
'Ever, that's not what we came here to do. We aren't superheroes. You know that.'
Ever was silent for a while. The pulsing colors had stopped. Lerraine kept her gaze fixed on the back of Noland's head, which, underneath his cap, was starting to bald.
Then, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, Ever spoke up: 'Gene would have wanted to help.'
Lerraine's eyes narrowed. Her gait grew somewhat rigid; her mouth tightened.
Damn that Starmie.
(She supposed she could twist the situation to her advantage. If she played her cards right. Strategy, tactics. It didn't have to be impulsive or sentimental.)
(Who was she fooling?)
Several quick, telepathic instructions later, and the tiny black band on her shoe had twisted off and was quietly scuttling away, belly to the ground. She wasn't sure if her companions had noticed the transformed Ditto, but if they possessed any sort of competence at all they would keep quiet about it. Still, it couldn't hurt to be safe. She shot them each a quick, meaningful glance and a brief hand signal before refocussing on Noland, who was going on about some gritty heist he'd pulled back in the day. The man certainly liked to talk.
Following in Nyx's wake was a tiny speck of movement—Ever, the already diminutive Starmie, under a Minimize technique. The two Pokémon were well-versed in infiltration; they should be more than enough for this kind of work.
'Bye, Cory!' Ever crooned in parting. 'I love you!'
Lerraine tried not to scowl. Manipulative brat.