Orion leans back in his office chair. Pixels swirl from the monitor in a dazzling cascade of blue light. Porygon materializes fully, its sharp-edged body humming softly with satisfaction. The Virtual Pokémon has just unraveled Kingpin's digital threads, exposing shell companies and shady transfers.
"Nicely done," Orion says warmly. He pats Porygon's angular shoulder gently. The surface feels cool and smooth under his fingers, like polished glass. "Your precision sliced right through those firewalls."
Porygon's lights flicker in acknowledgment, a rhythmic pulse of green approval.
Orion reaches for a nearby jar. He offers a handful of shimmering Poké Blocks. Their sweet, fruity aroma—berries blended into crystalline treats—fills the room instantly. These nutrient-rich confections enhance Pokémon mood and stats, per the ancient recipes in his codex.
Porygon crunches the treats eagerly. Its lights pulse faster now, accelerating into delighted beeps and chirps. The digital sounds convey unwavering eagerness for future collaborations, especially with rewards like these.
Orion smiles. Through his budding Aura, he senses Porygon's contentment clearly—a cool, logical joy that contrasts the warm glow of organic bonds. Porygon serves as a loaned Sanctuary asset, perfect for cyber investigations like this one.
He nods once. The Poké Ball recalls Porygon smoothly. The sphere shrinks into his palm with a soft click.
Orion stretches in his chair. The faint ozone scent lingers from Porygon's data dive, sharp against the room's warm wood polish. He glances at Latias across the desk. "Those leaks? Just a temporary warning to Kingpin. He will regroup soon enough."
Latias hovers closer in her human form, red hair swaying like silk threads in a breeze. Her golden eyes flash with concern. "Will that really stop him, Orion? He sounds too stubborn."
"No." Orion's voice cuts firm and clear.
Latias straightens, fists clenching at her sides. Her psychic aura flares briefly, a soft pink glow rippling the air like heat off sun-warmed stone. "Then let me handle him. I'll blast any intruder like Kingpin into oblivion!"
Orion places a gentle hand on her shoulder. The contact grounds her, his palm steady against the subtle vibration of her energy. "Full seriousness from you would leave nothing for the authorities, Latias. We restrain—incapacitate just shy of lethality. Pokémon Home stands for harmony, not erasure."
She nods, understanding softening her features. The room's air lightens as her glow subsides to a gentle shimmer. Orion's resolve hardens into quiet vigilance; Kingpin's shadow looms larger now.
Pikachu stirs from his nap on the desk, ears twitching at the shift. Sparks dance faintly along his cheeks, mirroring the tension.
Latias exhales, golden eyes steady. "I promise restraint. But if he threatens our home..."
"We meet him together." Orion rises, cane tapping the floor with purpose. He senses her loyalty through his Aura—a fierce, protective tide. Outside, New York hums with evening traffic, oblivious to the brewing storm.
A chime echoes from the lobby tablet. Another customer alert. Orion straightens his tailcoat. "Duty calls. Let's keep the peace while we can."
Latias smiles faintly, falling into step beside him. Pikachu leaps to Orion's shoulder, ready.
The lobby doors chime open. A gust of crisp evening air sweeps in, carrying distant city hums and the faint tang of street pretzels. Barbara Gordon steps through, jeans hugging her legs, hoodie zipped against the chill. Her red hair falls loose over her shoulders. A miniaturized Premier Ball clips discreetly to her waistband, where Froakie rests inside.
Orion rises smoothly from his desk. Pikachu perches on his shoulder, ears twitching. Latias straightens behind the counter, her golden eyes warm.
"Barbara! Back so soon?" Orion's voice rings genuine and warm. "Restocking Poké Blocks and Moomoo Milk again? Froakie's growing fast."
She nods, weaving toward the shelves. Creamy Moomoo Milk scent wafts rich and inviting, mingling with fruity Poké Block undertones. "You know it. Shop's buzzing lately—those videos are gold. Heroes lining up like it's Black Friday."
Orion chuckles. He taps his cane lightly, sensing her Aura flicker—a bright core edged with worry, like sunlight piercing storm clouds. Pikachu tilts his head, cheeks sparking faintly.
The Bat-Family had caught wind of trouble: a rash of arrests for disturbances at Pokémon Home. Interrogations linked the thugs to Kingpin's network, their poaching gear screaming organized crime. Barbara worried Orion might be outmatched. As Batgirl, she itched to help—brains over brawn, always.
"Business thrives," Latias adds softly, stacking berry mixes. Her voice carries melodic calm. "Everyone loves seeing those bonds form."
Barbara grabs a carton of milk, posture easing into shopper casual. Yet her eyes scan Orion's steady gaze, Latias's subtle shimmer—no tension lines, no frayed edges. "Heard about some rowdy types getting nabbed nearby. Gotham PD's buzzing. Dad mentioned Kingpin's fingerprints. Everything okay here?"
Orion meets Barbara's gaze steadily. Warm lantern light dances across polished counters, casting golden pools on jars of colorful Poké Blocks. His Aura flows outward like a gentle current, wrapping her worry in unshakeable calm—pure resolve without a ripple of doubt.
"Kingpin's echoes fade already," he says, voice smooth as river stone. "Safeguards bloom here daily: reinforced portals, vigilant patrols. Pokémon Home thrives secure."
Barbara tilts her head, red hair catching the glow. She fingers Froakie's Premier Ball, the cool metal grounding her.
"Dad could loop in GCPD if things heat up," she offers, tone light yet earnest.
Orion nods, a quiet bridge across their worlds. "Your father's reach honors us. We'll call if shadows lengthen."
She exhales, shoulders easing. Fingers linger on the ball in silent pact. They share a nod, alliance sealed in the lobby's cozy hum.
CRACK-BOOM!
Thunderous crackles erupt outside. Explosive booms rattle windows, blue-white lightning arcing wild against glass like frantic veins. Panicked shouts pierce the evening—civilians scatter as streetlights explode in showers of sparks. A metallic tang of ozone seeps through cracks, sharp and electric.
Pikachu perks on the desk. Cheeks spark instinctively, golden glow mirroring the chaos. Ears twitch toward the silhouette beyond: a crackling figure, hair spiked skyward, neon suit pulsing with stolen grid power.
"Feel that buzz? That's me—Electro—comin' to collect!"
His voice booms amplified, theatrical roar over frying transformers. Bolts chain across lampposts, cars levitate then crash in theatrical spins. He poses mid-street, arms wide, drawing every eye—craving the spotlight before the storm.
Orion's eyes narrow. Aura sharpens, sensing raw desperation beneath the flair: a man chasing thunder to drown silence. Pikachu tenses, tail rigid. Latias shifts behind the counter, golden eyes alert.
Barbara grips her ball tighter. Froakie senses the shift inside.
Lightning claws closer.
***
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