The Pantheon

The Champion

Lance sighed through his nose, the kind of breath that barely escaped the cage of his chest. He stared down at the G-Men officer in front of him—a wiry, pale man with a jacket slightly too big for his frame and a folder clutched tight against his chest like it might protect him from a Dragonite's wrath.

Which, at the moment, wasn't an unreasonable fear.

Behind Lance, Dragonite loomed.

The Champion’s most trusted partner stood with arms crossed, wings tucked close, and eyes locked on the G-Man like he was a particularly disappointing Rattata. A low, rumbling growl hummed from the back of Dragonite’s throat, not loud, not aggressive. Worse. Disapproving.

Lance didn’t turn to stop him. He didn’t need to. Dragonite was only echoing what he felt.

“You’re telling me,” Lance said evenly, “that someone walked into a League-certified prison, wearing a stolen warden’s badge, got within ten feet of our highest-security prisoner, released a Croagunk with a concealed toxin... and no one noticed?”

The G-Man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sir, she passed all biometric checks. Retina, fingerprints—”

“Because they were faked,” Lance snapped. “Because someone in your department signed off on security that’s clearly outdated. Because we’ve spent so much energy dismantling Rocket, we forgot the world didn’t stop spinning just because Giovanni hit the floor.”

The G-Man flinched. “Sir, I—”

“Explain it again.”

He straightened the file with shaky fingers. “It was a coordinated breach. The woman—false identity matched a dead Johto transport officer—was confirmed to be a Team Aqua member. Most likely embedded in Hoenn.”

Lance folded his arms, eyes narrowed. “So, she wasn’t working for Giovanni.”

“No. Sir. She was sent to kill him. This was payback, after Team Aqua and Magma cells were exposed during Champion Steven’s sweep of Rocket outposts across the southern regions. We believe she volunteered as a suicide agent. She used a surgically altered Croagunk with a latent toxin gland—non-detectable until released.”

“And the Croagunk was already in the building?”

“Yes. Seized during a raid last week, waiting for reassignment. She got into the same wing, released it, and guided it to the target.”

“And no one noticed the Croagunk walking into Giovanni’s cell?”

“It was... brief. Cameras were looped for twelve seconds. Then she returned the Croagunk and placed it back in holding. Later, she swallowed a cyanide derivative.”

Lance closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t surprised. Just tired. Deeply, utterly tired.

The woman was dead. The Croagunk was confiscated and euthanized on-site by order of prison security. Giovanni was assassinated. And with all three gone, so was the trail.

This wasn't justice. This was a clean cut with a dirty knife.

He raised his hand in dismissal.

“Go. Get the full report to Lorelei. I want it summarized in non-diplomatic language. No soft terms. No PR polish.”

“Yes, sir.”

The G-Man turned and half-fled the room, boots clicking quick and uneven on the tile floor. When the door shut, Lance finally turned to Dragonite. The dragon huffed, folded his arms tighter.

“Yeah,” Lance muttered, “me too.”

He walked slowly back toward the long table in the center of the command room, dragging one glove off his hand finger by finger. He dropped into the nearest chair like his spine had been holding out for hours and finally gave up.