When Jeff reopened his eyes, the pink flash was gone and he found himself on the roof of the Sexetorium, right in front of what looked like air vents. Sid was sitting on top of the one to the right, waiting for Jeff’s command.

“Alright,” Jeff started, “we don’t have much time until security figures out that the camera are shut off. Sid, I need you to go down the air vent that leads to Burgh’s private drawing room; that’d be the one you’re sitting on. Once you get inside – as far through it as you can go without being noticed – use Reflect and hold it until you hear a knock on the air vent. Then, come outside. Sound good?”

Sid nodded eagerly, and with a final, definitive nod to both him and Yume, he gave his master and partner a toothy grin before his entire body became invisible, excluding his eyes and teeth. The eerie, disembodied face rushed down the air vent to the right and made a small noise of resonating energy. Jeff smiled and turned to Yume.

“Alright, Yume, you know what to do. Once I tell you to, stop deploying the dream mist and then you and Sid’s part of the operation will almost be over. I’ll call you back to your Pokéballs, call you out one last time to get Teleported home, and we’ll be in the clear.” He scratched her in between her nose. He knew she was nervous about the whole thing. She knew exactly what a risk they were taking and exactly how severe the punishment was. But, fortunately, her nervousness seemed to melt away with his gloves’ gentle touch. “That doesn’t sound all that bad, does it?”

Yume softly replied with her name and floated over to the left vent without a second thought. She then, without any hesitation, began pouring her dream mist into it, the size and intensity of her head’s pink fog increasing several times over. In addition, Yume began to hum, most likely a method of concentration. She was, after all, knocking out the entire building, barring one special person. She needed to concentrate in order to create and release that much mist. As she did her job, Jeff leaned against the wall right next to the vent and glanced at his clock: 7:53. After a bit of thought, Jeff reckoned it’d take approximately five minutes for everyone to be out like a light, meaning the final phase of the plan would come into action at 7:58. It was almost odd how quickly things were going. By 8:30, about an hour after talking and laughing and so casually speaking with all of his friends, surely thinking this to be one of the best days of his life, Burgh would be lying face down in a pool of his own blood. And yet, Jeff thought, the entire plan would’ve changed completely had it not been for one innocent civilian. He grinned and closed his eyes, going back to a few days ago, when he was walking the streets in his normal, black pinstripe attire, gathering information about the upcoming party at Burgh’s new gentlemen’s club (though “gentlemen’s” club would be an erroneous name, seeing as the common woman was just as interested in Poképhilia as the common man). He came across one, rather amusing character while exploring the back alleys of Castelia. While he expected to find thugs, vermin, rapists and murderers, he instead found a very lighthearted person: a dancer. He had light brown skin and hair that was slightly darker and styled into dreadlocks. He wore white jeans and shoes, a green shirt and had a green jacket wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be taking a break, leaning against the least filthy part of the alley wall in a slumped posture, happily drinking from a water bottle. Beads of sweat were clearly visible on the man’s forehead, but despite his fatigue, he seemed completely carefree. The man noticed Jeff’s presence and looked over at him, his face breaking into a brilliant, pure-white smile.

“’Ey, mon,” he said casually, “ya seem lost. Perhaps I know da place yer lookin’ fer?”

Jeff smiled back to him and politely shook his head. “No, no, I’m not lost. I was just asking around about something. Apparently, there’s a big uproar about this city’s Gym Leader… like, he’s making a new building or something? I think that was it…”

“Hehe, outsider, eh?” Jeff sheepishly nodded. “’Ey, eese fine, mon. Lotsa people come ‘ere from all over Unova. Not bein’ a local ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. As fer Burgh – dat’s our Gym Leader – he’s formin’ a new Poképhile club over on 57th and 86th, by da Weary Wingull ‘otel.”

“O-oh.” Jeff cleared his throat and looked away. “Sounds like fun for him.”

“Heh, that’s just eet, mon. He ain’t gonna be parteecipatin' in ‘is own party.” Jeff’s head locked back into looking at the dancer, this time genuinely confused. “Ya, dat’s right. All da men n’ ladies n’ Pokémon’ll be havin’ foon down on the first floor, but Burgh’ll be in his private art room. He says he be fond of drawin' ‘da passion between human and Pokémon displayed during eentimate moments’, but eef ya ask me, he just like drawing porno eese all.”

“So wait, he’ll be sitting by himself while all of that’s going on?”

The dancer nodded. “Dat’s right, mon. Hees private room’ll have a big-ass, clear window where he'll get to see all the, er... 'partyin''. It'll just be heem, hees canvas and a shit-ton a paint. Though, I hear eese pretty posh for a room jsut for heem. Even has eet's own air conditioning.”