Chapter 183: Experimental Subjects
"Alright, you head back with the supplies," Xiu instructed the lead Pokémon Center staffer overseeing the loading. "Be cautious on the return trip. We might have attracted unwanted attention."
"Understood, Mr. Xiu," the staffer replied professionally, signaling his team. The Machoke efficiently loaded the last sacks onto the truck. They departed promptly, leaving Xiu alone in the warehouse with the still-unconscious intruders and Xiaochun, who emerged silently from her hiding place amidst the remaining goods.
"Get some proper rest now," Xiu told her, managing a slight smile. "You earned it."
Xiaochun, however, didn't relax. She pointed hesitantly towards her bandaged abdomen, her expression indicating discomfort.
"Did you reopen the wound during the fight?" Xiu asked immediately, his smile vanishing, replaced by concern as he stepped closer to examine the bandage.
She quickly shook her head, then pointed again, slightly lower this time, her face flushing faintly.
Xiu frowned, confused for a moment. "Are you... hungry again?"
Beside them, Abra, still psychically linked, projected a thought laced with dry amusement directly into Xiu's mind: "She needs to answer the calls of nature, you idiot."
Xiu froze, realization dawning. Ah. He felt a flush of embarrassment. "Right. Of course." This was just a warehouse; no plumbing, no facilities. He recalled seeing a dilapidated supervisor's shack with basic amenities just outside the main building. "There's an old building nearby," he explained quickly.
"It should have what you need. You can... you can go outside the warehouse for that. Just don't wander off." He felt slightly guilty, realizing his strict instructions might have prevented her from attending to basic needs earlier. "It's probably not safe for you to walk far with your injury, though. Abra can assist."
Abra, without needing further instruction, floated towards Xiaochun, enveloping her in a subtle telekinetic field. Xiaochun rose gently into the air and floated silently towards the warehouse exit, Abra guiding her towards the outbuilding.
With Xiaochun temporarily out of the way, Xiu turned his attention back to the two unconscious intruders. He checked their bindings – simple rope, but tied securely. He then unceremoniously splashed a little water on the face of one of the men.
The man sputtered awake, groaning, his immediate reaction one of pure, reflexive fear. "No! Please! Let me go!" he blurted, instinctively curling into a ball, trying to protect his head. "I don't know anything! Didn't see anything!"
Xiu observed the pathetic display dispassionately. He nudged the man none-too-gently with his foot. "Get up."
The man flinched violently at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "Don't hit my face! Please, not the face!" His reaction spoke volumes about past experiences.
"Hmph." Xiu sneered softly. He leaned down, grabbed a handful of the man's greasy hair, and yanked his head up, forcing him to look. "What were you doing trying to break into this warehouse?"
Even then, the man tried to avoid eye contact, squirming, still begging. "I know the rules, boss! Saw nothing! Heard nothing! Won't say nothing!"
Xiu almost laughed at the absurdity. "'Rules'? Wrong rules, friend. My rule is simple: you look at me when I talk to you, or things get unpleasant. Immediately." A thin, wickedly sharp bone knife – crafted from Pokémon remains – appeared seemingly from nowhere between Xiu's fingers, its point hovering near the man's exposed eye.
The man finally froze, the immediate threat overriding his ingrained fear of identifying his captor. His eyes snapped open, focusing fearfully on the gleaming knife tip, then flickered up to Xiu's masked face.
"Better," Xiu commented dryly, withdrawing the knife slightly. He released the man's hair, letting his head thump back onto the concrete floor. "Now, talk. Your answers determine whether you walk out of here. Your choice."
The man's eyes darted around the warehouse, noting his still-unconscious companion, taking in Xiu's youthful appearance despite the mask and the unnerving calm. A desperate, calculating look entered his eyes. "Look, kid," he pleaded, trying a different tack, "honest mistake. Drank too much last night, celebrating the festival, you know? Must've wandered in here looking for a place to sleep it off. Didn't mean no harm."
"Still useless," Xiu sighed theatrically, twirling the bone knife casually. "No value means..."
"Wait! Wait!" the man yelped, scrambling backwards despite his bonds. "Ask! Ask anything! Just don't... Just tell me what you want to know!"
"Playing dumb," Xiu stated flatly, his voice hardening. "Your reaction when you woke up – pure terror, begging not to be identified. You knew who might have caught you, or who you might have inadvertently seen. Stop wasting my time. Explain."
The man's face fell, realizing the bluff hadn't worked. He knew he was caught.
Just then, Xiaochun returned, floating silently back into the warehouse accompanied by Abra. She settled gently back onto the mattress, looking curiously at the scene.
Xiu glanced at her, then back at the terrified thug on the floor. A cold, clinical idea formed in his mind. Why bother with traditional interrogation? He looked towards Abra. We still need to refine the memory probe. Improve control, understand the feedback mechanism, minimize side effects... We need more data. More practice. His gaze drifted back to the bound man.
And here are two readily available experimental subjects.
A subtle shift occurred in Xiu's demeanor, a chilling undercurrent beneath the mask that Abra and even Xiaochun seemed to sense. The bound man on the floor shivered, though he couldn't understand why.
The next second, without warning, the man floated abruptly into the air, held fast by an invisible force. Abra materialized fully, its eyes glowing with intense blue psychic energy.
When it was over, Xiu stood silently for a long time, staring blankly into space, processing the flood of information, the sensory input, the structural nuances of another human mind accessed through Abra's power. The man lay motionless on the floor, unconscious again, possibly worse.
Each test yielded more data, refined the technique, but the process remained invasive, inherently dangerous.
He had the information he needed, though. The man was indeed connected to Team Rocket, but indirectly. He and his companion were low-level street thugs, part of a small gang whose leader paid tribute to, and occasionally took orders from, a mid-level Team Rocket operative.
Someone in their gang had noticed the unusual activity around Xiu's warehouse – the deliveries and the seemingly out-of-place manager (Xiaoyuan). Seeking to curry favor or perhaps gather intel for their own benefit, the gang leader had sent these two expendables to scout the location.
A foolish move, born of greed and ignorance of the true stakes.
Xiu's gaze drifted towards the unconscious man, his expression cold and indifferent.
You chose to trespass. He felt no remorse at all, sending the message that provoking Xiu and those around him had consequences.
"Aba aba?" Xiaochun's soft clicks brought him back. She gestured towards the body, then back at Xiu, a questioning look in her eyes. Abra relayed her thought: "Do you need help?"
Xiu turned towards her, startled from his reverie. He shook his head, forcing a slight smile. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
Xiaochun tilted her head, unconvinced. "But... the memories... they said partners help each other?" The memories she had inadvertently absorbed were likely scenes of camaraderie or loyalty from Xiu's past life or his bond with his Pokémon, contradicting with his dismissal of her offer.
Xiu couldn't help but chuckle, the sound slightly strained. "That's true, Xiaochun. Friends, partners, they help each other." He walked over to her. "But there's a difference between helping and burdening. You don't offer help you can't reasonably provide, and you don't involve others in dangers they aren't equipped to handle.
It's about balance, knowing your own limits, and respecting theirs." He looked down at her bandaged form. "Right now, your job is to heal. My job," he glanced back at the unconscious thug, "is to clean."