Part 12.5

12.5
[10:21 PM. Silph Co. Head Quarters boardroom. 30th floor. Saffron City. The same day.]
There was a knock at the door
Dorian Silph took a moment to look up from his notes. “Back so soon, Grayson?”
Absol was pacing. Normally asleep by now, there had only been a handful of times Dorian had seen her like this; not one of them was a particularly pleasant memory. He placed the dossier on the long mahogany table and wheeled himself over towards Absol. She tensed and shuddered before leaving the room through the back. Dorian was alone, facing the door.
	The handle turned slowly and the door creaked open. The shadow of tall man rushed inside the boardroom, lit only by the hissing fireplace.
	The man stepped inside and removed his coat. “Were you expecting someone this evening, father? Am I interrupting anything?”
	“Ah, Junior. Please come in.”
	The man nodded and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He stretched his arms and yawned. “Thank you. You’re looking well.”
	Dorian chuckled and began to wheel himself over towards his end of the table. The man waved him aside and pushed the president. Dorian began to cough violently. “I’ve been better.”
	The younger Dorian pulled a chair next to his father. “Violet and I are keeping you in our thoughts.”
	“That’s very kind of you, but I’d prefer if that wife of yours did more to keep me in this boardroom and out of a home.”
	“Violet is…ambitious.”
	“Though a Silph in name, I will burn this empire to the ground before I see anyone but you or your son in this room.”
	“Isadora is the oldest, you know. She has the ambition and drive; Ian can only seem to think of pokemon.”
	“It will be Ian in this room when you leave it to him, and that’s all I have to say on the matter.”
	“Of course, Father.”
	Dorian softened. “How is Isadora? How does she like it in Dewford City?”
	“She sings its praises. The Gym is a busy as ever. She wants to get you over there as soon as you can make the trip.”
	“I’ll tell my secretary to try and arrange something. What about you? How did you find Sinnoh?”
	“Still standing,” he said, “and cold.”
	“Good, good…always liked Sinnoh. It seems like a good place to retire.”
	The younger Dorian laughed. “You’ll never retire, father.”
	Dorian looked longingly into the fire. “Too true. I trust all went well?”
	“Jubilife is bustling as always. The TV center and the Global Trade system both posted nearly 65% profit increases this quarter.”
	“What about Miller and his Poketch?”
	“Not for sale.”
	“Everything’s for sale, my boy.”
	Junior smiled and placed a newspaper in front of his father. “I assume you heard about this.”
	The headline read: MASSIVE TERRORIST BOMBING IN CELADON CITY—THOUSANDS PRESUMED DEAD
	Dorian pored over the paper. It was a rough mock-up, an editor’s copy, perhaps. “Where did you get this?”
	“I heard of the attacks on the flight over. I had Violet pull some strings. That’s not the part I’m concerned with.” He took the paper from his father and folded it to the third page. POKEMON LEAGUE CHAMPION HOSPITALIZED IN THUNDEROUS FIGHT WITH MYSTERIOUS MAN. An amateur picture accompanied the article, an old man with a thick moustache walking through the rain with a deep gash across his chest.”
	“That’s Grayson, isn’t it?”
	Dorian took the paper back and stared into the picture. He laid it down over the blanket across his legs, leaned back in his chair, closed his tired eyes, and exhaled.