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Crisis averted— well, sort of. Corbeau sighed, tracing the circles on the map with his eyes. Red for downed fences (dealt with), blue for property damage (not his problem). By some minor miracle, the Rust Syndicate Office had been spared. Now everything was in the hands Racine Construction, or whomever else the city hired. And as for the holo fences, well, that Quasartico's mess to clean up. Jett still hadn't released an explanation for why they'd gone down in the first place, but at least they didn't seem to have any deaths on their hands.
The buzzer on Corbeau's desk sounded, the front desk light illuminated orange. He answered, and a voice crackled through:
"Um, Mr Corbeau, sir?"
"Yes?"
"That gentleman from the Fist of Justice is here to see you."
Corbeau rolled his eyes. "I thought I gave you standing orders to let him in at his discretion."
"Well, I did..." The grunt working reception hesitated. "I just thought you might appreciate some warning this time."
"Warni—"
The elevator doors opened and Ivor stumbled out, though there was nothing to trip over. His shoulder clipped the door hard and he didn't even seem to notice, words pouring out of him like a fountain the moment he set eyes on Corbeau: "Please forgive my intrusion, Corbeau, but I couldn't think what else— I'm sure Madame Detective is terribly busy, and the police as well, and I know— Well, you were close, so I was sure you'd have some i-insight—" He broke off, shaking his head and seeming to regret it when he listed to the side as though the floor had tilted. He stopped dead in the middle of the room and screwed up his face for a moment like something was causing him considerable pain. "Gwynn is missing."
Ah, yes. Corbeau had heard all about this little song and dance. "Sit down, Justice. You sure she's not hiding from you?"
Ivor did not sit down. He kept standing there, staring at nothing.
"Hey, Justice." Corbeau snapped his fingers. "Sit down. We'll figure this out."
Like he was stuck in a loop, Ivor shook himself again and winced again. "What?"
Corbeau squinted at him. Even when Ivor failed to clock something, it usually wasn't for lack of paying attention. He really was upset. "I said sit down."
"Right." Still, Ivor didn't sit. He paced forward to Corbeau's desk and wobbled in front of it, looking away. "She's not hiding from me," he said gravely. "She was in— She— Ah." He pressed a hand to his forehead, hiding his eyes. "Gwynn," he said, very slowly and carefully, "was in the Bleu District... when the Holo Fences went down..." And then, as though getting the words out had cost him, he slumped against Corbeau's desk in apparent exhaustion.
Corbeau raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"Ye—es..." Despite the fact that he was already leaning, Ivor managed to list against the side of the desk. He took too long to get his balance again, tilting backwards before catching himself precariously against the dark wood.
Corbeau bit his lip. "You're making me nervous. Will you just sit down?"
"I can't!" Just like that, Ivor was upright again, straight and pacing. "You haven't heard anything? They tried to take me to emergency clinic in the Jaune District, but she wouldn't be there, would she?"
"Ivor." Corbeau took a deep breath. "I need you to calm down and focus. You're not making any sense. Who is 'they'?"
"I have to find her." Ivor's hand seemed permanently anchored to his forehead now, and he spoke without turning to look at Corbeau. "I don't mean to bother you; I just... thought you could assist me." He broke off abruptly, his breaths coming heavy and quick. "I— It's— I'm terribly sorry, but would it be alright if I closed the curtains?"
"What curtains?" Corbeau asked.
Ivor didn't answer. He sank slowly to the floor swallowing convulsively, his face paled to a nasty greenish tint.
Shit. Corbeau dumped the papers out of his wastebasket and all but vaulted over his desk to shove it in Ivor's direction.
Ivor took it without seeming to think about it, staring right through the matte black plastic. Proximity revealed a nasty blue mark disappearing into his hairline and, as his glassy eyes darted past Corbeau, one blown pupil. Shit, shit, shit.
"Ivor—" Corbeau started, but broke off when Ivor retched into the wastebasket. It was a dry sound, not followed by the spatter Corbeau had braced himself for. Ivor didn't even spit after.
Corbeau closed his eyes and sighed. "Ivor. Did you hit your head?" Maybe he'd been caught up in the attack; maybe that was how he knew Gwynn had, too.
"...No," Ivor said, in between heavy breaths and unproductive heaves. Not even water. He had definitely been sick before this.
Corbeau touched the bruise. The skin burned. The injury was fresh. Ivor wasn't making any sense.
At the touch, Ivor did nothing so dramatic as flinch or hiss, only made a face and withdrew a little, knuckles white around the wastebasket. Cobreau traced the mark with his fingernail. "Where did this come from?"
"Got kicked. Not important," Ivor muttered, his eyes squeezed shut. Locks of hair had gotten coiled in the sweat gleaming on his cheeks, and his bangs had matted to his forehead. He rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Gwynn..."
Right. Had she actually been in the Bleu District at the time of the accident, or was Ivor confused? Corbeau bit his lip. "Look. There haven't been any reported fatalities. Not even any serious maulings. Even if Gwynn were hurt, it can't be that bad. And that's a big 'if.' She might not have been anywhere near Wild Zone 16 when the fences went down. You, on the other hand, have a concussion."
"S'not important..." Ivor muttered, seemingly oblivious to the way he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Oh, it's very important."
Ivor made a noise that sounded vaguely like a negative. "Need your help."
"Alright." Corbeau sighed and sat back on his heels. "I'll cut you a deal: I'll send every person I can spare out looking for Gwynn if you let Philippe take you to the hospital. What happened to you, anyway? Don't tell me it's not important."
Ivor blinked hard. "I heard... th'fences went down— Holo fences. Gwynn w's—"
"Never mind." Leaving Ivor with the wastebasket, Corbeau got to his feet and went to call Philippe.
Ivor, whether he was in a place to perceive it or not, was in a bad way. In the five minutes it took Philippe to arrive, he managed to vomit again, cry, yell, and then cry about yelling.
It was a long five minutes.
If Philippe was disappointed that he wasn't the one to get to concuss Ivor, he kept his mouth shut, and that was just as well, because Corbeau was on the phone again.
The hospital in the Bleu District had no record of Gwynn. Nor did the clinic in the Jaune District. In fact, no hospital in the whole of Lumiose had a record of her. That was good. The death toll was still 0, and no reports had come out of any injuries worse than a broken leg.
But it was worrisome. Little Lady Justice was a bit too good at disappearing.
—
The elevator doors opened. No prior call meant it was probably Philippe. Corbeau didn't look up from his laptop.
"Hey!" came a strident voice. "What's the big idea draggin' me and G-Volt all the way up here? This is kidnapping!"
Corbeau looked up. Philippe was striding toward the desk flanked by Canari and Gwynn, who seemed, despite Canari's protests, to be coming of their own accord.
Corbeau ignored Canari's squawking, thanking Philippe with a nod before turning to Gwynn. "Your brother's been worried sick about you, you know."
Gwynn raised a shoulder. "So?"
"When isn't he?" Canari added.
Corbeau ignored her. "So, where have you been?"
"None of your business," Gwynn said, dead-eyeing him.
"Yeah!" Canari chimed in. "If G-Volt doesn't wanna talk to you, she doesn't have to!"
Corbeau sighed. These children were going to be the death of him. "It's my business if your brother collapses in my office after begging me to help find you."
That got a reaction of Gwynn. Not much of one, but a reaction just the same: a little line appeared between her brows. "Explain."
"No, Lady Justice, you explain. Where were you? Why didn't you call your brother?"
"Hey, it's not her fault!" Canari snapped. "We were lookin' for a new café in the Bleu District when we got caught up in some sort of crowd rush. People were saying that all the holo fences had gone down and we all needed to get inside. It was total chaos! G-Volt got her phone knocked right out of her hand."
"And she couldn't use yours because...?"
Canari's cheeks darkened. She muttered something about livestreaming and battery life, and deflated a little.
Gwynn stepped forward a little, her eyes dark and fixed intently on Corbeau. "What do you mean Ivor collapsed?"
"I mean he showed up in my office with a head injury, in hysterics because he couldn't find you. Were you really in the Bleu District?"
"How bad?" Gwynn countered, placing her hands on Corbeau's desk.
"Were you in the Bleu District?"
"Yes!" She slapped her palms on the varnished wood. "Canari wouldn't lie. We were told to shelter in some building, and somebody almost knocked me over on the street, and nobody knew what was going on, and we got stuck inside for hours. Is my brother okay?"
At last, a little concern. He'd been beginning to worry that Ivor's affection was entirely unreciprocrated, and they were more dysfunctional than he'd thought. Corbeau inclined his head. "Philippe, if you'd enlighten us."
"I dropped him off at the hospital for testing. I believe the preliminary diagnosis was a moderate concussion."
"Who did it?" Gwynn asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
"It was a sparring accident."
"That's not what I asked."
Philippe grinned, putting up his hands in surrender. "You'll have to find that out yourself."
Gwynn nodded. "We're leaving."
"Anything you want to say?" Corbeau called after her, half-smiling. "'Thank you for taking care of my brother,' maybe?"
Canari huffed loudly. "Oh, please. That wasn't for G-Volt's sake. You couldn't have him keeling over in your office."
"He did keel over in my office," Corbeau shot back.
Gwynn put up a hand to stop them. "...Thank you. Both of you."
"Anytime, Lady Justice," Corbeau said, and pressed the button to open the elevator doors.