Orion Oak kneels in the soft soil of the Sanctuary's eastern grove, his green and white suit jacket draped over a nearby branch. His fingers work carefully around the base of a Sitrus Berry seedling, loosening the packed earth so the roots can breathe. The air here is thick with the smell of damp moss and fresh growth. Morning light filters through the canopy in pale green shafts.
A gentle pressure touches his mind. Latias.
Orion. A guest has come. She asked for you by name.
He brushes the dirt from his hands and stands, retrieving his jacket. The fabric is warm from the sun. He walks back through the Sanctuary portal into the Pokémon Home lobby, where the fluorescent lights feel harsh after the forest's soft glow.
A woman stands near the front desk with her back to him. Leather jacket. Jeans. Dark brown hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. She holds herself like someone who has learned that the world will hit her if she lets her guard down.
Latias glances at him from behind the counter. Pikachu sits beside her, ears perked.
The woman turns. Her eyes are dark brown, shadowed underneath. She looks at him the way she probably looks at everyone, like she is searching for the lie before he even opens his mouth.
"Orion Oak?" she says.
"That depends on who's asking," Orion says. "But since you came looking for me, I suspect you already know the answer."
The corner of her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile.
"Jessica Jones. Alias Investigations."
Orion steps forward and offers his hand. She shakes it. Her grip is firm, brief, professional.
"Welcome to Pokémon Home, Ms. Jones. What brings you here?"
Jessica glances around the lobby. A family examines Poké Balls on a display shelf. Two teenagers flip through a guidebook at a reading nook. Latias helps an elderly man fill out paperwork.
"Somewhere private," Jessica says. "This isn't a conversation for a showroom floor."
Orion nods. "Follow me."
He leads her past the front desk and down a short hallway to a small room with a table, two chairs, and a window that looks out onto the street. He gestures for her to sit. She drops into the chair like her legs are tired. Orion takes the seat across from her.
"So," Jessica says. "You're the Pokémon guy."
"I prefer 'custodian,' but yes."
"Right. Custodian." She pulls a manila folder from her jacket and sets it on the table. "I'm a private investigator. I get hired to find things. People, mostly. Sometimes information. Sometimes the truth when someone's trying real hard to bury it."
She opens the folder. Inside are printed screenshots, police reports, and photographs of a brick building with boarded windows.
"Three weeks ago, two streamers broke into an abandoned textile mill in Hell's Kitchen. Hargrove Textile. Place has been empty since 2013. They were doing one of those ghost hunt livestreams for their audience." She taps one of the screenshots. "They went in at nine PM. By nine-forty, both of them were unconscious on the floor. Their cameras kept rolling for another six minutes before the batteries died."
Orion leans forward, studying the images.
"The police ruled it a gas leak," Jessica continues. "Said the building had old pipes, methane buildup, bad ventilation. Open and shut."
"But you don't think it was a gas leak."
"No toxins in their bloodwork. No trauma. No signs of a struggle." She pulls out another photo. It shows a still frame from one of the livestreams. The image is grainy, lit by a camera's night vision. In the background, barely visible, is a pale, round shape with small eyes. "They both looked at something off-camera right before they went down. Same moment. Same direction."
Orion studies the shape in the photograph. His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind his eyes.
"I went to the mill myself," Jessica says. "Spent two hours inside. Didn't find any gas leaks. Didn't find any pipes that could produce that kind of buildup. What I did find was this."
She slides a printed comment thread across the table. Someone had posted the livestream still frame on a forum with the caption: That's a Pokémon. A ghost-type. My cousin has a Drowzee and this looks just like the entries in his Pokédex.
"I don't know what a Pokémon is," Jessica says. "Not really. I've seen the news. The tournament, the big announcement, all that. But I don't know the details. What I know is that three people are in a hospital right now, and nobody can tell me why they won't wake up."
"Three?" Orion asks.
"Third one went in two days after the first two. Different streamer. Same building. Same result." Jessica leans back in her chair. "I heard about you from a contact at the Hero Liaison Office. She said if anyone knows what these things are, it's you."
Orion is quiet for a moment. He picks up the photograph with the pale shape and holds it closer to the light.
"Ghost-type Pokémon," he says. "They're beings tied to spiritual energy. Some are playful. Some are territorial. Some feed on negative emotions or life energy." He sets the photo down. "If that building became a home to ghost-type Pokémon, and those streamers wandered in with cameras and bright lights and loud voices, the Pokémon might have seen them as a threat."
"So they knocked them out."
"It's more complicated than that." Orion folds his hands on the table. "Ghost-type Pokémon can interact with humans in ways that go beyond the physical. Some can induce sleep. Some can drain energy. In rare cases, if a ghost-type Pokémon is frightened or angry enough, it can do something worse."
Jessica's jaw tightens. "Worse how?"
"It can take a person's spirit. Their soul, if you want to use that word. The body stays alive, but the person doesn't come back."
The room is quiet. Outside, a car horn blares on the street.
"Can they wake up on their own?" Jessica asks. "The streamers."
"It's possible. If the ghost-type Pokémon simply drained their energy and moved on, they could recover with time. But if their spirits have been taken..." Orion shakes his head. "Then they won't wake up until those spirits are returned."
Jessica stares at him. "You're telling me their souls were stolen by ghost Pokémon in an abandoned building."
"I'm telling you it's one possibility. I won't know which one until I see them myself."
Jessica closes the folder and tucks it back into her jacket. She stands.
"Then let's go," she says. "I'll drive."
Orion rises from his chair. "I'll need to make arrangements. Latias can watch the store."
"I'll be in my car." Jessica walks to the door and pauses, her hand on the frame. "One more thing. If their souls are really gone, can you get them back?"
Orion meets her gaze. "I can try."
Jessica nods once and walks out. Orion watches her go, then turns back to the table. He picks up the photograph of the pale shape in the darkness and studies it for a long moment before slipping it into his pocket.
***
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