Nebulous Charisma

Chapter 1

"Lucas? Luke. Hey!"

"Huh?" Lucas looked up as the Team Galactic employee clicked her fingers in front of the distracted young man's face. He stared somewhat blankly at the azure-haired young woman as she folded her arms, her face locked in that disciplined scowl that most - if not all - of the workers at the Galactic Veilstone Building typically wore. That scowl, coupled with the eerily sterile grey and black uniform the young woman wore, made her seem kind of scary, especially up close like this. To this day, Lucas wasn't sure if that was intentional or not. Given who had originally founded this organisation in the first place, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if the grunts presenting themselves as unnerving had indeed been a part of Cyrus' vision when first piecing the idea of Team Galactic together on paper.

Team Galactic had come a long way from being a criminal organisation bent on achieving the goals of one deeply troubled man. Now operating under Commander Saturn, the organisation was now putting its pursuits in the field of energy research towards the good of Sinnoh's future rather than a means of opening inter-dimensional portals and messing with the balance of the universe. Of course, much like Lucas with his once profitable Pokémon egg farming scheme (which had led him to be stripped of his title of Sinnoh League Champion), the police had Team Galactic under watchful eyes, just waiting for them to step out of line again so that the long arm of the law could quickly apply a tight strangle hold to suppress any sort of new uprising of organised criminal activity.

Perhaps it was fitting that Lucas was now a part of something he'd once helped to take down, given his own less than clean record…

"You were staring into space again," the female grunt told him, her tone as curt and cold as her appearance, her by-the-numbers bowl cut that many Team Galactic employees bore seeming to shimmer with an almost metallic sheen, as though she used some sort of clear polish as an alternative to shampoo. That haircut was so carefully shaped to such an exact style and length, not a single hair out of place. Like everything else about the appearance and determinedly professional behaviour of the grunts, it gave the impression of perfection. A static, robotic idea of perfection that suggested obedience. Unwavering compliance. A complete and total submission to the control and influence of a higher power. Only the woman's blue eyes, showing that unmistakable glint of life in spite of her otherwise completely stoic demeanour, gave any indication that she was even human and not a cold, emotionless machine. Lucas was glad that such haircuts were not mandatory for Team Galactic employees anymore, the rule having disappeared along with Cyrus.

Of course, many of the employees had grown so used to keeping their hair in check so as to meet Cyrus' approval prior to his disappearance, that they had resigned themselves to the habit of reporting to the company barber for their regular reshaping and colour touch-up. Some employees had even taken to accommodating for their work hairstyles, choosing to pick out and wear clothes that matched their 'do when off-duty. Lucas, on his part, had shaved his hair down to a short, neat, presentable look, but it was still its natural semi-dark grey, with its partial spikiness still showcasing the boyish, adventurous nature he had at heart… repressed as it was these days. Granted, he did follow the example of his co-workers and wear the Galactic uniform when on the job, but even after working for Team Galactic for several months, there were times when he felt like a real Magikarp out of water around here...

"R-right. Sorry," Lucas mumbled awkwardly, running a hand along the back of his head sheepishly. He wished the grunt would stop staring at him so coldly. He wasn't sure he'd even seen her blink yet. "I've just had a lot on my mind as of late."

The female grunt nodded. "It's best not to let your personal life interfere with your professional one. If your stress is impacting your work, you should consider sleeping some of it off in the nap room during the designated break period. Remember: Ensure that the bed you choose-"

"-Is unoccupied before getting into it," Lucas finished for her, nodding. He had seen the plaque that bore that warning many times when running errands deeper in the base. He shuddered to think what may have happened in the past to make Cyrus leave a notice for his employees regarding such an obvious precaution. "Thank you for the advice. I'll try to be more…" He bit his lip nervously. "I'll try to be more vigilant in my work."

"Very good. Now, I need you to take these documents to Commander Saturn," the woman told him, handing Lucas a large sealed brown envelope with the metallic yellow letter G that served as the Team Galactic logo emblazoned on it. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the contents are for the Commander's eyes only."

"Understood," Lucas said, saluting respectfully. The grunt returned the salute before turning and walking away, leaving the young man to his task.

Young man. It was hard to believe that only a handful of short years ago, Lucas had been a boy adventuring all across the Sinnoh region, catching, training and raising Pokémon with much passion. Since then, he had grown, as people do, but it must be said that while Lucas grew older, he hadn't grown wiser at the same rate. In his mid to late teens, he had grown careless and naive, dabbling in fields that were best not dabbled in, experimenting with things best not experimented with. It was only after facing the repercussions of his actions - namely, seeing his Ditto get taken into protective custody and having all remaining unhatched Pokémon eggs in his possession confiscated by the authorities - that he had been forced to wake up... and grow up.

Now in his early twenties, noticeably skinny and a little short for his age, Lucas still looked more like a boy than a man, and was often referred to as a boy by his superiors as a result. He didn't have a problem with it exactly, but it was hard for him to think of himself as a man when even those around him didn't seem to regard him as such.

Lucas was soon jogging through the base's many sterile corridors, passing machines that blinked with multi-coloured lights and beeped rhythmically, zipping by the entrance of the break room without turning his head, briefly hearing some of the other employees talking casually, no doubt sipping coffee from Galactic-branded white mugs. Lucas felt that he could go for a coffee right about now, but he knew that it could wait until after he had completed his assigned task. He was, to all intents and purposes, Team Galactic's on-site messenger boy. He was sure that there was a proper, more professional name for it, one that didn't make it sound so demeaning, but it escaped his mind at present, which was probably a good thing, because one couldn't afford to get distracted when the big boss expected results.

Results that said boss expected to be able to set his Pokétch by.

Ducking through the aforementioned nap room as a shortcut, Lucas raced up the stairs, rounded a corner, narrowly avoided colliding with a male grunt who was coming the other way, reached the end of the hall and stopped just outside the Commander's office. Taking a moment to catch his breath and compose himself, Lucas straightened the collar of his uniform, made sure the G on the upper right of his chest wasn't wrinkled or otherwise not fully visible, ran a hand through his hair to make sure it lay as flat as it was ever going to without gel or something similar to mat it down, swallowed nervously and quietly pushed the door open.