Kasimir’s fingers flew over the keys, bringing up several new windows on the screen to his left. Considering he hadn’t bothered to turn on his office lights, the room was dim; all the light in the place came from the monitors themselves. He pursed his lips, scanning over the new information, shifting slightly in his crouch.
When he was really working, he perched on his office chair rather than sitting in it. Chewing his lip, he brought his hands to his knees, tapping his fingers in a hasty rhythm. He couldn’t risk getting too much deeper into the database, but… the information he was looking for had to be in there somewhere. The boss didn’t trust anything unless it was in the main Rocket server, and also on paper somewhere in the basement of the Saffron HQ. That was a lot more secure than this was—even if he’d wanted to make the trip, he’d have had to sign in to even get access, and then everyone would have known he was looking. Delving for information the boss had decided he didn’t need.
Propping his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands in front of his face, tipping them back so he could lean his chin on them.
He had to know what the hell they wanted with these subjects. That had been the first part—linking together all the people they’d been asked to investigate as part of their present mission. It wasn’t just Ana, but she was the most important one. The best prospect. That might help him, if he knew what she was supposed to be best for or at.
So he’d done a little more digging. The other prospects were as various as you could like. Young, old, male, female, from various regions, ranging in appearance from portly old fair-skinned grandmothers down to a little islander boy with knobby knees. Nothing he pulled up in any of the files linked them—except that they were all prospects for something called Project Nebula.
The weirdest part was, a good chunk of them weren’t even trainers. No pokémon in their lives at all. Previously, that had been the obvious thread in everything Team Rocket had done. They were out to manage the welfare of pokémon and those humans who were closest to them. He’d kind of liked that about them, even—dangerous as the thought was. But he’d suspected the boss wanted to branch into deeper human government matters, and now he knew he had to be right about that much. Why else would the most secret project he’d ever seen cross his desk involve people who had nothing to do with pokémon at all?
Dropping one of his hands, he used his fingers to pick up the coffee cup on his desk by the rim, balancing it on his knee for a second while his eyes moved to the next file over. The unredacted version of Ana’s. So far, he hadn’t been able to find a single thread linking all of the prospects together, but maybe if he just looked again, he’d have something to show for all his attempts.
His real boss wasn’t likely to tolerate radio silence for too much longer. They’d start to wonder if he’d become another Rocket asset for real, instead of just faking it for years. But he couldn’t just give them nothing—which was basically what he had right now. Nothing actionable, anyway.
The full version of Ana’s file included a medical history. He felt like an asshole and a creep reading it—Ana was a nice girl, and didn’t deserve to have people like him prying into her business, however good his intentions were. But he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that something in this part of the file would finally reveal the thread they had in common.
Kas took a sip of his disgustingly-cold coffee and grimaced. He swallowed hard, though, when he reached the second page of her medical records. So many hospitalizations… and was that a sanitarium check-in? Setting the cup down with a soft clink, he leaned closer, scrolling down the screen with an intent look.
Fuck.
There was no way she—but there it was. A quick internet search confirmed his suspicions. Letting out a deep breath, Kasimir speared his fingers through his unruly hair, dragging it back from his face hard enough to feel blunt fingernails scratch over his scalp. Sometimes, he really hated that he was completely alone here.
Because that meant he had to figure out for himself exactly what Team Rocket wanted with a dying girl.
When he was really working, he perched on his office chair rather than sitting in it. Chewing his lip, he brought his hands to his knees, tapping his fingers in a hasty rhythm. He couldn’t risk getting too much deeper into the database, but… the information he was looking for had to be in there somewhere. The boss didn’t trust anything unless it was in the main Rocket server, and also on paper somewhere in the basement of the Saffron HQ. That was a lot more secure than this was—even if he’d wanted to make the trip, he’d have had to sign in to even get access, and then everyone would have known he was looking. Delving for information the boss had decided he didn’t need.
Propping his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands in front of his face, tipping them back so he could lean his chin on them.
He had to know what the hell they wanted with these subjects. That had been the first part—linking together all the people they’d been asked to investigate as part of their present mission. It wasn’t just Ana, but she was the most important one. The best prospect. That might help him, if he knew what she was supposed to be best for or at.
So he’d done a little more digging. The other prospects were as various as you could like. Young, old, male, female, from various regions, ranging in appearance from portly old fair-skinned grandmothers down to a little islander boy with knobby knees. Nothing he pulled up in any of the files linked them—except that they were all prospects for something called Project Nebula.
The weirdest part was, a good chunk of them weren’t even trainers. No pokémon in their lives at all. Previously, that had been the obvious thread in everything Team Rocket had done. They were out to manage the welfare of pokémon and those humans who were closest to them. He’d kind of liked that about them, even—dangerous as the thought was. But he’d suspected the boss wanted to branch into deeper human government matters, and now he knew he had to be right about that much. Why else would the most secret project he’d ever seen cross his desk involve people who had nothing to do with pokémon at all?
Dropping one of his hands, he used his fingers to pick up the coffee cup on his desk by the rim, balancing it on his knee for a second while his eyes moved to the next file over. The unredacted version of Ana’s. So far, he hadn’t been able to find a single thread linking all of the prospects together, but maybe if he just looked again, he’d have something to show for all his attempts.
His real boss wasn’t likely to tolerate radio silence for too much longer. They’d start to wonder if he’d become another Rocket asset for real, instead of just faking it for years. But he couldn’t just give them nothing—which was basically what he had right now. Nothing actionable, anyway.
The full version of Ana’s file included a medical history. He felt like an asshole and a creep reading it—Ana was a nice girl, and didn’t deserve to have people like him prying into her business, however good his intentions were. But he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that something in this part of the file would finally reveal the thread they had in common.
Kas took a sip of his disgustingly-cold coffee and grimaced. He swallowed hard, though, when he reached the second page of her medical records. So many hospitalizations… and was that a sanitarium check-in? Setting the cup down with a soft clink, he leaned closer, scrolling down the screen with an intent look.
Fuck.
There was no way she—but there it was. A quick internet search confirmed his suspicions. Letting out a deep breath, Kasimir speared his fingers through his unruly hair, dragging it back from his face hard enough to feel blunt fingernails scratch over his scalp. Sometimes, he really hated that he was completely alone here.
Because that meant he had to figure out for himself exactly what Team Rocket wanted with a dying girl.