Tracks of Light

Chapter 1 – Immediate Unrest

"I now pronounce you, husband, and wife."

The bride in a taffeta white gown beamed as her fingers clutched the bouquet of fresh Gracidea that her friend had meticulously grown from her garden. The groom was just as enthusiastic, nervously adjusting his tie, and trying to find room to breathe. Everyone's breaths were halted, waiting for that final line, and when it came, they waited for another moment.

Elaine and Ollie immediately shared the kiss they longed for, earning the cheers from everyone who was watching. A Shaymin, which a guest managed to befriend on the way to the wedding, did the honors of making the entire square bloom with many varieties of flowers instantaneously, providing the perfect environment for a party. The evening was ending, and the Kricketune the Rangers had kindly summoned began to glow and illuminate the dance floor that everyone was setting up very quickly.

A quartet of musicians burst into song for an hour or so until the DJ came with his laptop and his massive speakers, and the waltz became a dance club. Everyone was absorbed in congratulating the newlyweds, but a lone Ranger stood aside, already deciding that smothering the couple any more was no good. He silently watched as everyone settled down to dance as he quietly gripped the rim of his glass cup, half full of the beverage they were serving.

He wore a black waistcoat and black pants, his pale orange dress shirt slightly glowing in the light of the lanterns in the square. The man huffed in irritation, hoping that people wouldn't mistake him for a waiter when they were walking around. Luckily, the waiters around here wore gold waistcoats, so no difference. Of course, someone was probably going to chastise him for not just wearing a full suit like everyone else, but the redhead has his reasons. He certainly didn't feel worthy of one of those suits today. At least he bothered match his clothes with a curt black tie. His very well polished dress shoes glimmered. He was the perfect date, if it weren't for his grouchy face, but it wasn't really much for the fangirls to fret about when they apparently dig troubled dark guys, and his coworkers rarely touched on the subject of his attitude change. Five years can really change a man from happy-go-lucky to dark and brooding.

Keith reached into his pocket and found his keys, relieved that he hadn't forgotten them, but his hands got a hold onto something else attached to his keys. His lips formed a tight line as he drew it out to see it. The object was one of those normal keychains that one could put a photo through, and his tactlessness made him chose a bland pale blue color for a simple frame. Who cares, he had said, it's the picture that counts.

For the past while, he's been thinking about removing the photo, but nostalgia always made him keep it, but he had to be careful to keep it to himself, whatever was in that photo. If he wasn't, someone who knew him better would end up in tears, and those who didn't know him well would continuously bother him to the peaks of hell about the photo. He learned that the hard way since four years ago when he openly looked at the photo. Couldn't anyone have their own "personal" belongings anymore?

Once again, the picture was entirely priceless to him. It was a photograph of a teenage girl, not really looking at the camera, but having a delightful conversation with a friend beside her. Her blue eyes beamed enthusiastically as she seemingly laughed at whatever her friend said. Must have been a good conversation, if she was really happy here. Then the memories did their usual cycle. He remembered her serious side during work, and the countless times he was just as tactless as he was today, and she would criticize him, calling him a idiot, even though she really didn't mean it. Now he was moping, not exactly getting any work done. Where was she now to call him an idiot?

"You're the idiot, damnit," He thought dryly, and he stuffed the items back into his pocket and took another sip from his glass. His mind went back to the moment he found the note, in that flat, in that blue complex on Azalea Terrace. It no longer had an owner, and the home had already been locked away for the sake of investigations… for five years, and nothing has been done to it. Most of the things there were preserved, last time he checked.

In his hand was still that roll of newspaper, which he had picked up on the way to the wedding. Headline news: MASSACRE RANGER LEGACY RECOGNIZED! Of course, he recalled, it was the fifth year of recognizing the person who tarnished the name of the Rangers by mass killing. As if her name hadn't been made fun of already, the substitute Hero of Almia thought to himself. Yeah, that's right. Scratch her name off, and put his instead. Damn media, Keith seethed. As much as he hated what they wrote in the news about her, and her sins, and the conspiracies that weren't true, he had to hold onto it. He was not cowardly now, not like last time when he let everything slip away before.

He then rose from his rest on the table and made his way through the many masses of people dancing, until he saw the people with guest books. He approached them, adjusting his bow tie, and adding the mischievous glow in his eyes. The ladies holding the guest books looked up in awe, and were ready to answer the heartthrob of the Union.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Basil around anywhere?"

Keith had remembered seeing the boy around here, good friend of his student. The boy managed to graduate from Ranger Academy last year with honors for Technician Rank, but he rejected all offers, and had decided to begin his currently flourishing company for technology. The kid was filthy rich now, surprisingly, and was said to be residing in his summer home in Oblivia. There had been talk about the new corporate building he was planning to base here in Almia, but many worries arose about the idea that Altru and Davies Tech would begin duking it out, when really those two companies would be the real best of friends. More so, he thought that Basil would move into the apartment on Azalea Terrace, or maybe his younger sister, Karen. But in Karen's case, that would take forever. Ever since that Debonair fiasco, Karen's parents forced her to drop out of the Academy early and start fresh as a Coordinator abroad instead, traveling with some bodyguards that her brother graciously provided.

The women looked up at him, wondering why he would have any business with the president of Davies Tech.

"Basil, you say?"

"No, he left early on a flight to Oblivia with his vice president," One of ladies at the gate answered dreamily, her face flushed and a small line of drool dripping the side of her face. Keith held back the urge to look repulsive at the disturbing look on her face. Someone must have really done something to the punch this time. And Basil went with the vice president, eh…?

Although Keith didn't really approve of Basil's decision to bring a convict out of jail to be his most trusted subordinate, he had come to know Ice for quite a while now, and they've stayed on rather good terms for the while. What really concerned him about Basil and Ice is that they were really inseparable nowadays. One would never see one without the other, as if those two lived together, and if not worse, they were in some sort relationship of the sort. Perhaps it's just that Ice happened to be indebted to Basil for helping him out, or something… well, Basil isn't here. Oh, well…

"Well, thanks…" Keith nodded and he went back to the festivities, lost in thought. She was still there, waiting for him somewhere, or maybe she wasn't waiting for him, and she was finally learning not to be a doll. He promised to be honest, and she did the same, and they would find themselves when their roads converged once more, hopefully never diverging again. He'll find her, and she'll find him. It was their vow…

"Elaine, look out!"

Keith's head whipped around when he saw everyone standing clear of the middle of the dance hall, and he tried to peer over the crowd, and saw a familiar uniform he'd love not to see again. Two people were in gray beanies and leather sweaters, with a Miniremo open. He blinked a few times before dead realization dawned upon him. He needed to get closer to see.

"Dim Sun…" He snarled, and dug into his pockets for a pair of white gloves but decided against it. He noted Professor Hastings, who was watching in shock, and the man saw to it to bow down to the older man slightly, hoping this was respectful enough to compensate the contrary thing he planned to do.

"Excuse me," He muttered and then grabbed an old man's cane, and went his way into the crowd. Hastings didn't even notice it was gone. Keith tried to find some view in the crowd as he watched the party crashers intently. Indeed, there were two people wearing that stupidly nostalgic costume, sneering as they held the caged Shaymin, and the many Machamps surrounding the place.

"S'cuse me," The Dim Sun remnant laughed. "We'll be taking this Shaymin-"

With a long bound from one of the dinner tables, the redheaded Ranger launched himself above the crowd backing away from the Dim Sun members, the cane raised above his head. He swung the cane forward, and hit the man in the Dim Sun getup square in the face. Keith saw nothing, but he could definitely hear a crack of a nose back there. Without delay, he whipped out his Styler, and with a few flourished sweeps, he caught the Pokemon and released them.

The crowd was backing away in fright just as Keith jumped over the Miniremo and took down the man controlling it. He gave a few more savage punches before hoisting the man up and dropping him, leaving a few of his teeth to hop out of his mouth upon impact. The lady who worked beside him screamed and broke down in tears, pleading for mercy. It wasn't long before the Operators arrived and handcuffed and took them away, leaving Keith behind with the appalled people. He heard a distinct flurry of whispers, all of which said the same thing.

"Rangers… it must be a brutal job nowadays, isn't it…?"

Keith shot a small glare of some of them, and the whispers were suddenly silenced when he passed by them, trying to find a quiet place to start filing in a report. He then looked at the Fine Styler he possessed and punched in a few numbers before announcing a quick note to the audience while flashing his Styler.

"This area is closed under investigation," He said coldly. "Please evacuate calmly and in an orderly fashion."

He gave an ordering look to the Vientown Rangers along the sides of the party grounds. All of them nodded and began helping out. The scared guests filed out very quickly and surprisingly in a uniform fashion, unlike usual stampeding crowds of people trying to fit through a small door. Perhaps it was the fact that this was in a large park, so people could go wherever they pleased. Then a small tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked around to see an elderly man fully decked in a lab coat frowning at him.

"My cane, if you please," He said, and Keith hurriedly put it back into the owner's hands, his face tinged pink in embarrassment.

"Sorry, sir," He said gruffly. "I should have used something else to subdue them."

"Nothing to worry about, Keith," Hastings laughed softly, examining a small dent in the handle. "If you had thought up of forks and knives, the results would have been worse. Thank goodness you're not some demon butler."

A small chuckle came from the redhead's lips, and the professor smiled. At least he was able to keep some of the humor he had as a teenager. However, the amused smile faded and he was back in his serious tendencies.

"Well, anyways," Keith cut in curtly. "Now that this place is closed off, I'll be calling up some more Area Rangers to help collect anything that might help us. Meanwhile, I'll go deal with the media."

"Oh, yes, please do," The scientist nodded rapidly. "You're better at it than me. But only if Murph was here…"

Keith gave a few quick summons from his Styler, and promptly exit the scene to see a horde of reporters, flashing cameras and fangirls, who did nothing worthwhile other than bombarding him with flowers and other gifts he never bothered to pick up. Could these ladies please understand that he was not interested? He's already got a ring on his hand, damnit! Screw it if it wasn't on his ring finger, but still!

"Is it true that Dim Sun is on the move again?"

"No, but-"

"How about that news about the Basil Davies launching construction of a new building here in Almia?"

"Please, no comments," Keith answered coldly. "I'm not answering anything irrelevant to this case."

"Do you know… What do you have to say… Did you… Have you… ever before…?"

The questions came pouring, and his vision was failing him. No, he wasn't going to collapse, but the feeling of people breathing over him was just daunting enough.

"Thank you very much, Hero of Almia!" A reporter applauded him as he stood in the square for the fifth hour, taking interviews and ridiculous comments and gifts. Keith nodded, but inside felt deep disgust. What could they believe? Stupid news… to deface the real hero and use him as the poster boy to cover up a tragedy. He hated being a pawn because he had been one, and it really hurt him in the end anyways.

The tune of his cell phone resounded in the near silence of the square, and Keith picked up the call and answered. "Yeah?"

"S-sir, we've got trouble!" An operator's voice trembled on the other side of the line. "Someone's shot the van, and the convicts! They're both dead!"

"Ben!" A voice called. "I need some of those paperwork Rhyth asked for!"

"On it!"

"Benny! A coffee while you're at it!"

"That, too!"

"Um, Benny? Can you bring these case files to Keith?"

"I-I'll do that…"

Ben was rushing through the blur of Operators and Rangers in the tireless Ranger Union. It was his first month of work here, and he was assigned under the tutelage of Keith Mustang, the highest ranking Ranger of the Union at the moment. Well, he wasn't the only ones in this weird promotion program. There was Kellyn and Summer, too, but they were always hanging around Sven and Wendy respectively to ever spend any time with him. People said it's a great honor to be trained by the best Ranger, but Ben honestly had to say otherwise. The man was easily likeable enough on all weekdays to everyone, and the slightly cranky on weekends, save for Ben himself.

Keith was ruthless to him, making Ben get him coffee, order him to do the useless missions when his fellow rookies back at the Area Bases were doing better things. Even worse, at this point in time, he had never ever managed to even have his own Partner Pokemon. It seemed that his friends had more luck than him. Summer managed to befriend a gigantic Staraptor like her mentor Wendy, so she could just fly anywhere she wanted. Kellyn had a very adorable Pachirisu, and it was very useful for missions involving machines and the like. And Basil had an entire little family of cute little Pokemon, well, most of them evolved now (thanks to Karen), but still. He had no Partner Pokemon, and it greatly bothered him, and he'd admit his teacher is deliberately treating him like crap. At least he got the Top Ranger certification earliest of all, if that did any good.

Today was unusual. A murder of two had occurred on Friday, the day Elaine and Ollie had their wedding ceremony and reception. Before the event, Ben found it really fun (the wedding, he meant), but didn't manage to find a date, so he spent most of his time talking to Barlow and Crawford, who didn't have any dates, either. Summer and Kellyn couldn't make it to the reception because they were on important missions, much to Ben's chagrin, but at least he met Basil there, if only for a brief time. As much as they were best friends, Basil dropped out of the Ranger system to pursue other goals instead of law enforcing, which was a usual alternative to being in the Ranger Union. He had gathered a few scientists and mechanics and quickly became the leader of the world-renowned Davies Tech in less than three years. Nowadays, his friend was so busy; Ben could rarely ever talk to him face to face.

But back to the murder. A man and a woman, both former Dim Sun upperclassmen, were shot dead from long range on Union Highway. To think that after five years, they still managed to come up once in a while, but their plans always failed. Without a strong leader like Wyatt Hall, the Sinis Trio, or Kincaid, Dim Sun wouldn't be able to rise ever again. At least they were never the cause of worthwhile crimes that have been popping up lately. Ben mulled over the thought of death once again. The concept of dead people by gun was entirely new to the rookie Ranger, and these crimes were rapidly increasing. Guns only existed in stories and books, but now they were real? The world grew darker every minute.

"Oi, get over her, kid," A stern voice made him jump. "You plan on giving me any information on these cases?"

"Y-yes, sir," Ben approached Keith with shaking hands clutching the papers. The redhead was unimpressed, and his raised eyebrows spoke all. He had been forbidden to take part in full investigation, since the Chairman had said that wouldn't help his current health. Now Ben had to tell him everything.

"Don't call me 'sir.' This isn't the military."

You have no idea, Ben thought exasperatedly. "We managed to find the man who shot the convicts two days ago. He was found on the rooftop of a Pueltown skyscraper. He had a bag that contained a sniper rifle, which was used to shoot the victims. Also, he was knocked out and handcuffed to one of the pips on the roof."

He watched the visible twitch in interest in his mentor's face, and the man stood up from his chair in alarm.

"Handcuffed?" Keith was incredulous at the word. "Any idea how?"

"Prof. Hastings didn't know," Ben stated. "He's been sending teams to look for evidence of a second man on the scene. Turns out there was, judging from the second set of recent footprints other than the gunman's on the scene."

"Any details in that report?" Keith asked, settling back down in his chair. "The footprints? What type?"

"Um… it's on this report," Ben handed the paper over. Keith paid little attention and continue to stare at him. Ben's eyebrow twitched in irritation. He knew that Keith was not one to listen to reports, and he liked to read them, so why in the world is Ben being forced to regurgitate everything on the report? Okay, fine, be that way.

"It seems to be a type of military boot," Ben read through the lines, and he knew that Keith really loved details, to the smallest inch of ink on the paper.

A small bit of recognition flashed through his teacher's eyes, and the man said nothing as he got up from his seat in the Control room. He passed the boy and was at the door when he stopped.

"It was a combat boot size 8.3." He said, "You need to remember things like these, kid. They just might help you when you need them."

Ben was puzzled by the low tone his teacher used just before the man exited the room. Then the realization struck him. Keith was still on that stern chase for that one person. A small lump formed in his throat. He couldn't help but actually praise his own teacher's determination to hang onto something so impossible for five whole years. Ben didn't want to believe whatever ridiculous theories Keith came up with whenever the topic came to it, but it was impossible. She was gone, and that was all.

The sounds of an ongoing conversation right outside the door, was beginning to echo in the large empty house, right when the front door clicked, and the wooden panel swing open. Two people stepped into a foyer, their feet hitting softly against the pale marble. The door quickly closed shut, and the two people were still talking.

The first was a man with striking blue hair, somewhat tamed decently, but still spiky in a sense. He had just come back from work, so he was still wearing his suit and coat, a suitcase held tightly in his hands. His blue eyes flitted warily back and forth between different parts of the room, and his feet spun on the spot right towards a shorter young man with light brown hair. He was stooped over trying to tuck away his shoes to the side as neatly as possible. His pair of bright blue eyes looked up at the first man, before smiling.

"Still," he said, continuing their talk from outside. "I wouldn't mind asking Mr. Hayden to take care of the design. It's still early, so I would want to check later…"

Ice was just lost after that. All he could do was watch Basil fret over their development schedule this month, blue eyes staring straight back at him, and mouth moving so animatedly. Somehow, all the stress seemed to fade from his head, and he felt refreshed again. He should be focusing on what Basil was saying, but he was still tired physically, he made little effort to even tune in on any sound at all.

"Conan?" Basil's voice brought him back to reality. "Ice? You there?"

Suddenly, he was just a half meter from his face, those blue eyes blinking up at him (Remember, Basil was significantly shorter than Ice). Too close! Way too close! Heat rose to Ice's face and he backed away from his friend, sputtering profusely while Basil blinked far too innocently. The little… was he doing that on purpose.

"You were spacing out," Basil stated blandly. "You okay? You're tired?"

"Uh…" Ice fumbled with his words. "Right. Uh, no. I'm fine."

He averted his attention elsewhere, hoping the pink on his face would fade soon. He looked around the house again, still not believing what he saw. It was surprise that the place was empty. Well, this has happened before, but he could never get used to coming into an empty home. He would have preferred someone to come out and welcome him back, then again… that wasn't really much.

"She's not here, is she?" He turned back to Basil.

"I… I don't think so," The young man said, stepping to the side of the foyer, his bare feet pattering against the marble floor. Ice realized he had forgotten to take off his own shoes, and he scuffled back to the front door. He grabbed his own pair of slippers afterwards and hastily followed Basil to the kitchen.

"Where is she, then?" Ice asked.

"She's still on her job," Basil replied, turning on the light switch. "I doubt she'll be back until tomorrow."

Ice blinked warily. Odd. Very odd. Basil usually knew exactly when she would arrive, or when she would be staying home, but this time, the president of Davies Tech was unsure for the first time. Was she doing something dangerous? That wouldn't be good for Basil's mental health, and if he got sick, he was really going to give that woman an earful for hurting her own little brother. That is, if he could catch her when she got back.

"Which one?" He then asked.

That's right. She had many jobs. All of them paid rather well, but she had a strong tendency to hop jobs now and then. At least the only one's she managed to stick to was assisting operations with the that certain family in Orre. He never understood why she chose such a shady job, even if she said she joined them partially for personal reasons. At least her other jobs weren't so bad, like being the Davies Tech main courier.

He watched Basil withdraw his hand from an open cabinet, a frying pan in his hands.

The smaller man tried to think. "Um… I guess the one in Orre."

"So the shady one?" Ice suggested, and he received an exasperated sigh from the other.

"Yes, that one," He said, closing that cabinet, and opening another, which contained spices. "But, please, Ice, don't call it 'shady.'"

Ice remained silent as he watched the younger man set the pan down. He eyed the knobs on the stove, and turned the second one, causing blue fire to spring up from the burner, licking the bottom of the pan lightly. Basil then headed for the refrigerator, hopeful that something would still be there. The three o them had forgotten to restock their rations for the week, so they had to make do with anything they happened to keep in their kitchen but neglected because there was something better to eat.

"Hey," Ice finally spoke, and Basil was already mixing a combination of vegetables, fried eggs, and rice.

"Hmm?" The boy turned towards him, leaving the rice to cool, now that he shut off the stove, leaving the rice to cool for a while.

"Since she's not home," The blue haired man continued, his voice rather hesitantly. "She won't be complaining tonight, right?"

Basil visibly stiffened at the mention of that, and he turned to his vice-president with wide blue eyes. H-How casual he spoke about that! A knowing smile curled on the former Dim Sun executive, and Basil raised an eyebrow with a sigh, knowing what would happen next. A smile just like the other began to form on the younger man's face as he clambered off from the counter he was leaning on. His own slippers made soft thumps on the floor as he made his way around the island in the kitchen, and he was then a few feet away from his older subordinate.

"I'm fine with it," Basil smiled, and Ice couldn't feel any happier, but before he could move, his "boss" turned on his heel and headed back for the stove, his attention back to the rice. He reached into the cupboard and took out two bowls.

"Just, afterwards," Basil added, a rice paddle in his hand. "Otherwise, the dinner will get cold. I don't feel like reheating it."

Both brows on Ice's face rose, and he finally submitted to the younger's suggestion. They couldn't go through a night on an empty stomach, so he should try eating a bit. Besides, maybe that would help him sleep a bit better.

"Okay. Suit yourself."

The interrogation was grueling. Very grueling. The man refused to say anything about the second man on the roof, much to Ben's dismay. It was making Keith very disgruntled about staying cool about this, and the redhead already smashed two coffee cups without a single change on his face, save for a distinct twitch of the lips whenever the convict brushed up against a nerve. The gunman chained to the chair (by Keith's request) was amused by this and then made it a game to see how long it would take for Keith to not look so stiff and uncaring.

Ben was standing beside his teacher, who was sitting in a chair behind a small table that divided the distance between him and the suspect. Several others, Operators and scientists, were standing beside a glass wall, watching from afar.

"Can't you look like you're doing your job?" The man asked challengingly, and Keith didn't answer and further pressed on the question.

"Tell me exactly what happened on the roof when you shot those two goons."

"Like I said," the man grinned. "Not telling you anything. You might as well drop the 'good cop' thing. Or you can be bad cop, and your kid over there play good cop."

"I-I'm not his kid!" Ben said hurriedly, arms flailing before his face. Keith then glared at the boy for showing emotion, and the boy let his hands down in a defeated manner. Sheesh, be human for once!

"Well, at least he's the lively one here," the gunman smiled at Ben. "Care to join in on the fun? I'd be happy to spend time with you all day rather this grump over here."

"Eh…" Ben hesitated, and the man chuckled at his unease.

"Don't worry," the man smirked at him. "I'd love to treat you to something nice…"

A loud bang on the table caught everyone's attention, and Ben could see that his teacher had put a fist through the table. He had left a deep dent in the metal as he rose out of his chair slowly, quietly pushing his chair back.

"I would prefer that you don't 'flirt' with my student and just get on with it and answer us," Keith scowled. "I haven't got all day."

"Well, I don't either," the gunman sighed nonchalantly. "I've got a whole list of clients back at my place. You think I wanna be here?"

The two men glared at each other and the atmosphere was getting colder by the minute, and Ben was beginning to feel like a small Pichu in the midst of a Seviper and a Zangoose.

"C-can we at least work this out?" Ben sputtered and exchanged cold glances from both men at the same time. "I mean, this person who caught you on the roof must have turned you in to the Union, which you didn't want, and… you want to get back at him, right?"

"It's a she," the man emphasized. "Didn't you listen to me the first time?"

Keith glared once more at his student, and a shiver ran down his back.

"You need to be more alert, brat," Keith added, and Ben was more than ready to sink back into the shadows of the poorly lit room and let the two talk on their own. Maybe he should just go outside and have Rhythmi slap and yell at his teacher for being mean…

"Well, you want to get back at her, right?" Ben asked. "We can catch her, and put her behind bars. Wouldn't that be nicer than just giving us a hard time?"

"You're right, kid," the gunman smiled serenely, in the horror of Ben. "But I wanna see this guy break."

Said person was not very pleased about this predicament, and he stood up from his chair. Like lightning, grabbed the gunman's throat. He lifted the man, still in the chair, with ease and pinned him against the wall by the throat still. The people behind the wall were wincing at the sudden actions of the Ranger. Still, Keith didn't change his expression, and but the hold made the man gasp and squirm for air.

"Better speak up," Keith said. "Or making friends with this wall will the least painful activity for you this evening."

"Oooh…" The man smiled, still trying to breathe. "Getting a bit rough now, are we? I like it."

Keith scoffed, and pulled him off the wall and slammed him back with even more force. The man gagged and coughing a bit. Keith was sure he would kill the suspect soon if he kept up with this, so he let him crumple to the ground. Ben was scared out of his mind and was unable to move at all. This was bad- very very very very bad. He began to pity the gunman actually, for having lesser brains to know not to anger his teacher.

"Answer," Keith growled. "Please."

"No," the man coughed out, and Keith gave a hard kick to his stomach, and body was left quivering. He then picked up the gunman by the shoulders and threw him headfirst into the wall opposite into the wall the others were staring through. One of the women there screamed when the man's face was compressed against the glass and he slid down onto the floor.

"I have more ways of making you talk," Keith knelt down beside him. "Wanna give them a try?"

The gunman gulped, and grit his teeth in consternation at the man who towered over him, brown eyes cold and burning like a wild fire.

The gunman was resting quietly on the edge of a tall building. He had locked the door to make sure no one would come racing up the stairs to catch him. He peered down at the scope of his rifle, and was busy tracing a van that was racing down one of the new highways of the region. He chewed down on the toothpick in his mouth, cursing at the fact that the stupid van was so erratic. What kind of driver does that anyway?

"Screw it," He said, and shot twice. The van immediately turned to the side, and he watched the driver clamber out of the van in surprise, his blue coat flying. He then aimed again and shot two times again, hearing the man shriek at the fact that something was shot at the van.

The gunman lifted his rifle, admiring his handiwork. His victory faded when he heard the fast gust of wind fly past him, followed by a loud caw. His face was muffled by the feathers of a black and white bird, and he scrambled to his feet to swat it away. The beating of wings on his face turned into pecking, and he yelped at each one, until he finally caught the bird's leg, and flung the bird aside. Now, he could see a Staravia narrowly missing the floor, recovering from the fall and gliding towards a black plane hovering above the building. The man was puzzled. Was this his pickup crew? He never thought his employer had a plane as nice and sleek as that…

The hatch opened, and a dark figure jumped out, not using a single safety line. When the person landed softly on the ground, the gunman was sure he was facing someone who was his type. The distant city lights below only gave him enough to see short blowing hair, a thin face, eyes covered by shades, mirrored wraparounds, he identified them. The person wore a long jacket that reached the ankles, where leather boots could be seen. From the shape of the stranger's face and the small curve he could see on the coat, he could tell it was a woman. There really was no need to take a look at the rest of her body. The Staravia that pecked the gunman's face landed on her outstretched arm, quite proud of the number it did on him. Stupid bird, he scowled mentally.

"Just doing my job," He grumbled, putting away his rifle into its case. The woman didn't answer and merely stood there. He was getting uneasy at the fact that she didn't seem to move.

"You're one to talk," He looked at the woman. "What brings you here?"

Her lips tightened, and her voice turned out to be a bit scratchy and slightly deep, "How many?"

"Two," He chuckled. "Not really what I expected though. Old members, probably grunts, of the Dim Sun."

"Dim Sun, you say?" She asked.

"Yeah, who else would do something as ridiculous?" the gunman shrugged. The woman said nothing as she approached him slowly. He was beginning to fear small quakes in his fingers as she got closer. He was supposed to know who she was, but he couldn't tell, really, from all this dark.

"Who are you, anyways?" He asked, trying to control his instincts of fear.

"Used to be a local here," the woman said.

"That doesn't answer my question," the gunman sighed. "Yay, you used to live here."

"I don't need to tell you my name," the woman was a few feet away from him, her fists clenched. He gulped visibly and grasped the bag that held his rifle.

"Look, I just killed a few useless mooks. Not a big deal or anything-"

The Staravia hovered off of the woman's arm. She immediately dove forward, and took his leg, and lifted him. The man was hanging of the edge of the building, his arms dangling. He was sputtering at the fact that a woman like her could possibly lift a weight like his. He even seemed to forget he was hanging off a twenty story building. He didn't train himself in parkour or any building sport, so the view of a bustling street fifty feet below was not so refreshing to him.

"So, your choice," the woman said briskly. "My arm might get a little tired, since a good friend of yours found it funny to shoot it. I might just complain about how it hurts and I'll let you go. You don't want that, do you?"

"W-w-w-what are you-u talking-g-g a-about?" the man stuttered. "W-w-Who are you?"

"I'm not going to answer," The cloaked woman said as she lazily let her arm nearly slip, making the man gasp. "You might as well take those words back. Those 'mooks' were still people, after all."

"H-Hel-" before the man could finish, he was yanked back onto the rooftop, onto his back. He could see a bit more of the woman's face as she was standing in front of him with the lights almost behind her. Brown. That was the color of her hair. The Staravia flew back down and landed on her shoulder.

"Sorry," He said flatly. The woman's feet shifted.

"You say sorry?" She asked, and the man nodded. "Good. But not good enough."

She lifted a tightening fist and thrust her arm forward. Lights out, he heard her say before he saw black.

"And that was the last thing I saw!" The man said frantically. Keith was holding the hair of the gunman, pulling his head back and exposing a neck that could be easily crushed. The suspect was utterly terrified by the recent proceedings that he had to babble everything out. Ben hastily recorded what he said, and Keith let the man go. The man had been let out of his restraints on the chair, but his arms were still tied behind him. He was panting with blood dribbling down his face and arms. Looks like Keith really did a number on him.

"That's all I wanted to hear," the redheaded Ranger got up to his feet, and looked at Ben, who immediately fumbled with his notes when attention was turned to him.

"You," he said in a commanding tone. "Go get someone to clean this up."

"Y-yes!" His disciple squeaked and was rushing quickly for the door, and Keith was walking slowly to the door as well. He stopped short when he heard a moan from the gunman. The redhead didn't turn around yet, and he visibly keeping his ears trained on the sound. Then he shook his head in shame, and went to rejoin his student, who was holding the door open for him.

"Bastard," The man whispered as Keith made his way to exit the room and tell the security to put him back in his cell. The man stood up and in blind rage, began charging for him. Ben wanted to shout to tell his teacher of the attack, but Keith turned his head around and gave a swinging back kick into the man's stomach. The man hit the wall once more and fell into a bloody heap.

"Anything else?" Keith asked, hoping the man would challenge him, but he had no answer. With a deep sigh, he and Ben walked out of the room with little intent on coming back.

The café was filled with another crowd of people greatly anticipating the newest broadcast of the Lily of the Valley Conference, streaming live from Sinnoh. Because of this, the café decided to close much later into the night, so now the place was crowded in the main building, and anyone who wanted a normal drink for the day had to sit outside at the balcony view. Thankfully, it was summer, so the weather conditions were satisfactory. Besides, the ocean was quite nice to look at whenever the sun was setting.

The small clinking of glass being set by the table was the only thing that wasn't coming from the café inside. Two men were sitting at the balcony section of the café, overlooking a bit of the fishing section of Pueltown, and then to the rest of the sea. Two glasses of amber liquid were being drunk and placed on a wooden table

"Rough time?"

"Y-Yeah…"

It was the end of the day, and Murph saw it fit to take the disgruntled twenty-one year old to a pub for a small drink. After a rather big case with a murder, they had done their own investigations before handing it off to the police themselves. Murph was now the Chairperson of the Ranger Union, having completely replaced Erma since three years ago. It seemed that the old woman was unable to keep up with her duties with her injuries from the Dim Sun invasion of the Union, and she was forced to retire. With little much people capable of taking the position, Murph had to take it upon himself. Now it was a few more years, and he's gotten more experienced with the job, but admittedly, it was difficult.

Keith wasn't getting the worst brunt of the workload nowadays. The man had climbed ranks faster than anyone, and now he was one of the finest Rangers the Union had ever seen. Setting the Technology Department aside, which was as strong and powerful in its own right with Hastings in command, Murph and Keith became known to be the two powerhouses of the other two divisions. With Murph as Chairman, and Keith out in the field, those two were an unstoppable tag team, and probably the better of buddies around the Union.

Nowadays, Murph was one of the only people Keith could ever talk so casually with, let alone talk to in general. A lot of the Ranger Union members he knew back then were no longer here, since they got transferred to other parts of the world where their abilities were greatly needed than Almia, where the law enforcement was stable with both the Ranger Union headquarters and an iron-fisted police force. The redhead didn't want to bother Rhythmi, who seemed like she was constantly busy, and was very unapproachable whenever he even saw her on a break. Isaac was a decent guy to hang out with, but Keith could find better things to talk about than business and the latest invention. Sven and Wendy were just like Rhythmi, always busy, and acting unresponsive whenever they got back. Murph, whom Keith reported to regularly, was the only person who managed to remain likeable at all times, so the two stayed together very often, perhaps going to the local café together for the evening, or even visiting other close friends. They were adults now, so the two men couldn't bother themselves to try making any pranks or doing stupid things.

So, here they were, drinking just one or two glasses of ale. Keith sat quietly, thumbing the side of his glass, and blankly staring out to sea. Murph constantly watched the redheaded Ranger warily. He looked extremely tired, and of course, the best way to solve it was to have the man say everything that was bothering him. The man had been more recluse about himself, actually. He rarely talked about any personal happenings, not even his parents in Johto, or his brother, who's been stopping in and out of Almia in monthly intervals.

"You're going to need a break, Keith," Murph suggested, completely out of the blue. Of course he had to say, though.

Keith scoffed in response, and went back to drinking his glass of ale. Murph immediately noticed how the redheaded Ranger wasn't pleased with the idea, judging from his lack of response, and tried to reassure him with something that might have made him not want to go.

"Don't worry about Ben," Murph added furtively. "I'll just put Wendy in charge of him. You know Summer, right? I guess she and Ben are quite close buddies at the Academy."

He was silenced by the loud slam of Keith's glass against the hollow table, and he watched as the man straightened up in his seat, leaning heavily against his hands placed on the table.

"Idiot," Keith muttered darkly. "I couldn't care less about that brat. I'd bet he'd get himself hurt anyways, one way or another."

Murph then gave off a smile. Keith never really changed, did he?

"But I'm sure you have other things to deal with," the Chairman stated. "Personal ones, I mean."

Keith paused at the mention of "personal." Like before, he wasn't very open about his personal issues. Well, he didn't have to. His family was just doing fine, so no drama on that side of his life. And he hadn't even bothered to date anyone, even if he could go out with hundreds of women at this point in time, just from fame and appearance. But he was a faithful man, and he wouldn't seek pleasure to drown himself in his sorrows. Murph knew he wasn't that type of person.

"She's back," Keith growled forebodingly, and Murph perked up at the mention of that person, an unsure smile on his face. Murph was one of the few people who'd ever support Keith in this issue, although it was doubtful.

"You can't be too sure about it," Murph said. "I'm sure there are a few other women just like her, Keith. It will be hard to find her after five years. Besides, if I was in her situation, I'd imagine that she'd try to just go back to having a normal life with a different identity."

The redheaded Ranger calmed down from his friend's logic, and emptied his glass, leaving a small mound of leftover ice in the drink. He then stared back at the ocean, quietly sulking at how right Murph could be. But there was still that tugging string of reason he could use to bring back that small hope he hung onto for half a decade. That was the deciding evidence.

"But she's not that type of person," Keith then retorted. "She's most likely trying to come back. She's just busy, that's all, and she'll come back when her own issues are done and over with."

Murph raised his eyebrows, perplexed that Keith could come up with a response like that, and that only gave a wider smile on his face. Somehow, he could see the old Keith coming back, and that was something he and the rest of the Union longed to see. With these turn of events, there just might be a miracle, one that would reinvent their lives once more. Please, he hoped, his eyes turning towards the stars, let this happen, and let her come back to us.

A/N: Ah, yes, hello! Hello! I'm back a bit too quickly, and yes, this is the sequel to Shadows of Almia. Thanks to some suggestion, I just stuck to the game names as the titles. Let's all hope for the best and take this story to the very end, just like the first one!

And to answer some questions that some may be thinking, and facts that I feel like sharing:

Yes, Keith is at least in his twenties now, and he's allowed to drink (either that, or the drinking age is different in the Pokemon world, or there isn't any alcohol at all). Supposedly, Kate leaves the Union at sixteen. She's a Top Ranger at fifteen, and half year means it's past January, which is her birthday, so she's seventeen when she leaves. There is no official information about Keith's birthday, so, I'll have to think about that later. But he's twenty-one at this point.

Also some facts about alcohol and our own characters: most of the characters can hold their liquor, except for a few. For example, Basil will get clingy and possessive when he gets even one glass of even the weakest. Luckily, Basil's underage at the moment, so you won't see him like that very much (actually, I was planning on getting him drunk in some later chapter). Isaac is known to not stand it at all, so one cup, and he's through (that's why bringing him to company parties is a bad idea). And most of all, Sven. In my world, Sven is the worst person you should ever go out for a drink with, especially if you are of the opposite gender.

Um, yeah, I'm aware that I'm sorta making Basil and Ice look like a couple (sorry, it's my yaoi fangirl tendencies… You didn't expect that, did you?). I was planning on leaving a lot of the shounen-ai hints out of this story for the sake of being discreet, and then just make it part of the drabbles portion of the series, but if you readers are very very excited about seeing bit more spice between those two in this story, then be my guest. Otherwise, they're just good friends who happened to live together in the same house because Ice doesn't really have family anywhere else (that makes a good angst element).

Now I've realized my author's note is taking too much space. Phantomdare1, signing off.