Making of Champions: Chapter Three

3
~Gazing~
A large boat cut easily through the churning ocean. The waves themselves writhed beneath a jet black sky which assailed the boat and the body of water beneath it with a torrent of rain. Alone on deck, a man stared off into the distance wherein at this point in the journey land would be visible. Today, the land was blocked by a thick veil of cloud and surf.
Detective Inspector Looker was completely unfazed by the heavy deluge. It always seemed to rain whenever he was forced to go to the Valhemma region. Unfortunately, this was only one of the many reasons why the man despised the region. The people- in his opinion- were not competent enough to manage their own affairs and always seemed to need the help of an ace detective like himself. Surely these days there were better candidates than Looker to solve whatever problem had arisen.
Deep lines carved through Looker's once handsome face, a bi-product of the seemingly endless nights in which sleep had seemed to elude him and even a bottle of rum hadn't remedied that problem. In fact, alcohol hadn't seemed to remedy half as many problems as it seemed to throw in his direction. Looker always blamed the Valhemma region for his descent into alcoholism; the copious amounts of alcohol needed to make the place bearable had worked its way into some part of his brain. The addiction was not helped by the breakdown of his marriage. With Arceus as his witness, Looker had sworn to track down that Houndoom of a woman and get his kids back. Damn courts stopped that from happening. After the injunction, Looker had found solace in the bottom of a bottle of alcohol- or many bottles Looker painfully reminded himself. It had nearly killed him and it was when he was lying in hospital that this whole unpleasant business began.
He had looked up from his withdrawal fuelled misery when he had seen the shady looking character in a sophisticated suit. Everyday Looker had sworn at the man and refused to listen to him and everyday he returned. Eventually, Looker grew tired of the constant intrusion and finally allowed the stranger to talk. The man was part of something big that he seemed to believe would grow into a powerful force. The Union he'd called it. For some reason which the once great Looker had been unable to deduce, The Union seemed to want Looker to complete a job for them. Concerned by the well being of their selected person, the representative of The Union promised to work alongside Looker to salvage him from the depths of the alcoholism that he had sunk to.
Looker was discharged from hospital with the understanding that he would attend Union sponsored therapy classes every week. Initially, he had tried to evade them but The Union always managed to drag him out of his house one way or the other and forced him to go to the mindless gatherings. To make matters worse, there never seemed to be any alcohol in Looker's house during that period- no matter how much he bought- and none of the pubs seemed willing to serve him- the shops soon followed suit with regards to the selling of alcohol. Bored and petulant, Looker allowed himself to be swept along to the weekly sessions and actually began to enjoy them. The people- who he would have normally found dull- seemed far more interesting than the perpetual silence that had invaded his home and Looker even found himself yearning for the meetings.
Finally, the meetings changed tact and Looker was transferred to another location wherein The Union began to brief him and prepare him for the task that they had for him. The switch had been made over a month ago and now Looker was ready.
Stepping under the shelter of a small awning, Looker placed down his battered old briefcase and opened it. The briefcase was as brown as the coat that he wore and as brown as his hair used to be; it was now streaked with grey where the alcohol had prematurely aged him. With shaking hands- his addiction had ruined his once perfect steadiness- the detective removed a beige file and opened it. Inside were a number of sheets of paper containing information that was essential to the operation. The information contained informed Looker of many things such as the person whom he was to arrest was an interesting fellow. The detective had a week before the person became an official criminal and it was strongly recommended that he instigate some form of surveillance on the individual to pass the time. Allegedly, the target was set to become increasingly more dangerous as time progressed and threatened the very existence of The Union itself. Looker doubted it was that severe- clients often used hyperbole to ensure that he took the case- but Looker had no real care for the true extent of the case; The Union had fished him out of the gutter and would, if the mission was a success, enable the detective to see his children once more. How he missed their happy little smiles, their laughter, just spending time with them. Also, The Union had offered an incredibly healthy amount of money if Looker completed the task but the detective didn't care. He would see his kids and that vile Houndoom would have nothing to say on the matter.
Looker looked at the piece of paper that was hidden behind all of the other papers that were contained within the dossier. As the ferry arrived at the port of Nart City, Looker inspected the paper once more. Upon this piece of paper was a picture of the target along with his name. Looker was determined to commit both to memory and so, as he packed the rest of the papers back into the briefcase, he kept this piece out and read it over and over again. From the page, a red haired young man stared out at him; an arrogant smirk on his face. The young man wore a deep red coat and a scarf of the same colour. Beneath the photograph were two words printed in clear, bold letters and Looker read them for the one hundredth time.
Horatio Ariaden.