Chapter-2: Agatha

David woke to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of medical equipment. The room was dim, the faint glow of the moon seeping in through the window. His body felt sluggish, his mind clouded. It took him a moment to register the weight of the blanket over him, the beeping monitors, the distant murmurs of nurses outside.

A hospital.

For a brief, blissful second, he forgot.

Then it all came crashing back.

The door bursting open. The masked officers. His mother in handcuffs. The slap. The pain.

His mother being taken away.

Panic surged in his chest. He threw off the blanket, his small legs swinging over the side of the bed. He had to find her. He had to—

A hand shot out, gripping his wrist firmly but not unkindly.

"You're in no condition to run around, young man," a voice rasped.

David twisted, eyes wide, and found himself staring at an old woman sitting beside his bed. She was draped in a long cloak, her posture relaxed yet imposing. Thick wrinkles lined her face, but her eyes—sharp, golden—held a knowing intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Let me go!" he said, trying to yank his arm away.

The woman chuckled. "Stubborn, aren't you?"

David turned back toward the door, but his legs wouldn't move. He tried again—nothing. It was as if his feet were glued to the floor.

"What—?"

"Don't waste your energy, boy," the woman said, crossing her arms. "You're not going anywhere."

David turned on her, frustration bubbling over. "Who are you?"

"Agatha." The name meant nothing to him.

"Where's my mom?" he demanded.

Agatha's expression didn't change. "I'll tell you when you're discharged. Until then, rest."

David wanted to argue. He wanted to fight, to scream, to run. But there was something about this woman—something ancient, something powerful—that made him hesitate.

So, he sat back down.

For now.

Police Headquarters, Kanto

The air in the dimly lit conference room was heavy with unspoken tension. Gordon stood at attention, his back stiff as he faced Commissioner Carmel.

"We've transferred Hunter J to the maximum-security prison in Unova," he reported. "She's under twenty-four-hour surveillance."

Carmel exhaled slowly, steepling her fingers. "Good work, Gordon."

She leaned forward, her expression unreadable. "We finally got her. The woman who built one of the most dangerous Pokémon smuggling syndicates in history… and then vanished."

"She has knowledge of everything," Gordon said grimly. "Black market dealings. Team Rocket, Team Plasma… even that mess in Galar."

"She's a goldmine," Carmel agreed. "If we break her, we break them."

Gordon hesitated.

Something about J unsettled him. She hadn't resisted. Not really. The moment they had taken David… she had gone quiet.

That wasn't normal.

J was playing a long game.

And Gordon had a sinking feeling they hadn't won anything at all.

One Week Later

David had learned something over the past seven days.

Hospitals were boring.

Sure, he understood he needed to get better. The doctors had told him how lucky he was, how he had suffered a mild concussion, how he needed rest. And he had tried to rest.

But how could he, knowing his mother was somewhere out there, locked away, alone?

At first, his heart ached so much it felt impossible to breathe. The nights were the worst. When the lights dimmed and the whispers of nurses faded into silence, he would curl under his blanket and press his face into the pillow, willing himself not to cry.

But there was one thing that helped.

Gengar.

Agatha had left the mischievous Pokémon to watch over him when she wasn't around. At first, David hadn't known what to make of him.

Then, one evening, as he sat staring blankly at his food tray, too tired to eat, he felt something tap his cheek.

A spoon was floating in the air, held by an invisible force.

Gengar giggled.

David blinked. "Did you just…?"

The spoon wobbled, then dramatically plummeted into his pudding.

Gengar burst into laughter.

David stared at the mess of chocolate and metal. Then, to his own surprise, he laughed too.

From that moment, the ghost never left his side.

They played games—cards, rock-paper-scissors (though Gengar definitely cheated). The ghost would shapeshift, pulling faces until David couldn't hold back his giggles.

For the first time since that awful night, David felt… okay.

But he never forgot.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Agatha to finally tell him the truth.

Waiting for the moment he could see his mother again.

Waiting for the nightmare to end.

The Night Before Discharge

David lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Gengar snored softly beside him, curled up in a ball of shadow.

Tomorrow, Agatha had promised.

Tomorrow, he would get answers.

But something in his gut twisted uneasily.

Something told him his life would never be the same again.

And he was right.

Because far away, in the depths of Unova's highest-security prison, Hunter J sat in her cell.

She was waiting, too.

And Hunter J never waited for nothing.