In the base where Vance and the others were, screams came one after another from the interrogation room, all the grimmer and more frightening in that dim place.
"Mmph, mmph, mmph—"
A young man with a boyish face was tied hand and foot to a post, his body twisting and struggling, making noises in his throat — but a rag was wound round his mouth and no sound would come.
"Are you going to talk? Are you going to tell me? Eh? Not talking, is it."
"Crack, crack, crack—"
The whip fell on the young man, and there was only a rush of breath.
When Vance came in, he found Ambrose swinging a whip at the man and cursing away as he did it.
"Good. Backbone. I do admire a man with backbone. A League official through and through — that's real dedication."
Ambrose stopped swinging and gave the man a thumbs-up as he said it.
"Mmph, mmph, mmph—"
Bound hand and foot, the young man made noises behind the gag and blinked his eyes, trying to say something.
"Oh-ho, glaring at me now? Backbone! That's what I like to see. Heh heh, a spineless one would be no fun at all. Come to that, if you were spineless you'd never have jumped out and fought us the other day."
Ambrose gave an evil grin and changed to a thicker rope.
"Mmph, mmph, mmph—"
The young man struggled harder, his eyes wide, his face full of grief and anger and helplessness.
"How's it going? Got anything out of him?"
Vance came over beside him and asked.
He had come along with Sylas for the interrogation of several important prisoners, to broaden his experience. Ambrose had come too, and on arriving had spotted one of the men who had fought against them, and volunteered at once to question him.
"Heh heh. Not yet."
Ambrose laughed his heh-heh laugh, swung his arm and got ready to strike again.
"That'll do, that'll do. Take the rag off his mouth, or you can beat him all day and get nothing out of him."
"Oh. Right. I forgot. Bloody hell, sorry about that — looks as though I've misjudged you." Ambrose looked like a man on whom a great light had dawned, and hurried forward to take off the rag.
"What do you want me to say? Let me open my mouth, will you? He came in and just started hitting me."
Once it was off, Corvin said it in grief and fury. Damn the fat man — he had come in and started laying on at once, telling him to talk while he beat him and never taking the rag off his mouth. How was he supposed to talk?
"Stop, stop hitting me. Whatever you want to ask, ask it. I'll tell you."
Vance looked at Ambrose. "You've got something about you, Fatty. That's it out of him already."
"Ah — have I? Oh. Seems I've got a bit of a gift for this."
Ambrose laughed sheepishly and waved it off. He had only been copying what they did in the television dramas. Did he really have a gift for it?
"All right, you ask him."
Vance waved a hand and walked out.
"Your name's Corvin, is that right? Where are you from?"
"Yes. My name's Corvin. My family's in Vermilion City. I'm a Grade-3 clerk with the League at present."
"Now tell me. This operation of yours........."
Outside, Vance saw Sylas with a broad smile on his face and went over to him.
"Sylas, was it a good haul this time? You look pleased."
"Hahaha. Not bad at all. We caught several rather important people."
They talked as they walked, came to an office, sat down and went on talking.
"This lot are mostly from Vermilion City, men from the League's commerce department. We've dug a good deal of valuable intelligence about other regions out of them."
Sylas said it slowly, and made him a cup of tea.
"Other regions?"
Those two words told Vance that Team Rocket's ambitions were not confined to Kanto and Johto; they had arrangements in other regions too.
"Don't be fooled by the commerce department. Every one of these has a family behind him. They're worth a good deal, and the power hidden behind them is no small thing. Handled properly, there's a fair profit in it."
"Take the Pokémon they've spent half their lives raising so carefully and they're finished even if they do go back. And we can use the few of them to disturb the networks behind them, and through that work on the League........."
Sylas talked it through with Vance and made every joint of it clear: how to get the most out of these prisoners, and to what end.
Perhaps because he thought well of Vance, Sylas was giving him pointers as well.
"The mission counts as complete. There'll be a bonus for you shortly, and three thousand contribution points. And since you performed so well, I've applied to the organisation for a starter Pokémon allocation for you — you can redeem it at half price. Redeem it if you need it; if you don't, do as you like with it."
"Is that so? Thank you, Sylas."
Vance thanked him. He had not expected a benefit like that.
"Even at half price it's a million Poké Dollars and five thousand contribution points. Have you got enough? If not, I can lend it to you."
"Not for now. We'll see in a while. If I need it, I'll come and ask you."
"Haha. All right. Failing that, you could apply for newcomer support — you can get a sum of money interest-free, and with your potential you could get a good deal of it." Saying it, Sylas remembered that Vance was a Psychic, and went on.
"You really won't go back? With gifts like yours, headquarters could bring you along far better."
"No, no. It's good enough out here. This is my seasoning. If I go back, it'll be later."
Vance declined; he still chose not to go back to headquarters.
"Haha, you're an interesting man. All right, then. Perhaps one day I'll be the one relying on you for a leg up."
"Hardly."
They chatted a while longer, and then Vance took his leave.
His phone buzzed. He picked it up and looked: five hundred thousand had gone into his internal Team Rocket account, the bonus for the mission, presumably.
As for the starter allocation, Vance decided to hold on to it for now and see later. There was no hurry.
If he had no use for it he could put it up for trade and get a good price for it. A starter's name carried weight not only outside, in the territory the League governed, but here in Team Rocket as well, where they were much sought after.
Starter Pokémon. Best suited of all to a new Trainer's make-up in the Pokémon world.
Outside, Vance went to the training room again, and as soon as he was through the door he saw the Torchic running with weights on, its short legs going, running round the floor.
This too was the training Vance had set it. The Torchic's temper was good enough and it was willing to work hard, carrying out the training plan as it had been given.
Besides the Torchic there was Vigoroth in the training room; Gyarados was in the training room next door, training hard, in the hope of beating Vigoroth in the one-month pact and taking the big brother's seat.
There were not many days left now before the day of the one-month pact.
Vigoroth sat cross-legged on the ground, gone into meditation, with several books lying by his feet.
As soon as Vance came near he noticed the energy about Vigoroth stirring, as though a breakthrough were coming.
"Keep at it. Once you break through you'll be properly into the Advanced ranks."
Vance said it quietly. After a breakthrough, with Vigoroth's aptitude, the fighting strength he could bring out would be higher still.