The blaring alarms had come too late to serve as a warning for Team Flare. Every evacuation point only led them directly into units of the International Police set up and waiting for them. Additional units stormed the hide-out, checking every nook and cranny. The warp rooms had been jammed. No one escaped, not even the admins.

  That had not been the case with every operation. When the scattered forces of the illegal team regrouped, it would not take them long to figure out which grunts were not among the arrested, which of those had known the exits that were secured, and hadn't known of those which were not.

  It was the third major team bust in as many regions in as many years. Now what would have been coincidence before would become a pattern. One that fearsome enemies were sure to trace sooner or later.

  "You've done good work here, Operative Stone." The Chief of IP congratulated a man standing beside him as long lines of grunts were loaded into armored vans. Bins full of confiscated and locked down pokeballs were wheeled into separate transports.

  The man standing beside the chief was cloaked in a long black trench coat, heavy sunglasses, and long brimmed hat. Little of the man's face could be seen, but a small frown peeked through the shadows. "Good enough to retire?" The gravelly voice was deep in affect, but did not sound natural. Another trick for hiding his true identity. No one really knew who Operative Stone was, and the IP had liked keeping it that way.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "As agreed upon." The chief said with a nod, handing over a set of five thick brown envelopes. "New lives and identities for you and your siblings scattered across the world. Only the top echelon of IP will know where to find any of you. I leave it up to you which identities to give to whom. For now, all the locals have to go off of is a name, so we kept those gender neutral as well."

  The shaded man slipped one of the envelopes open to check the contents. He ran a thumb over the specialty ID, recognizing the feel of a thin film that would peel to a sticky backing capable of picking up a picture printed on the appropriately special film he had access to. It would not be his first time using such methods to keep his identity secret from everyone but himself. He secured the envelope again and tucked the bundle of them under one arm.

  "Thank you, Chief. I know I haven't been at this long, but it has felt like lifetimes. It'll be good to be nobody again."

  "I hope so. After a job like this, I never want to hear the name Operative Stone again."

  "Because if you do, it won't be good news." The gravely voice drew out slowly.

  "You know what they say about the last gig before you retire. This went too smoothly."

  The man in shadows was quiet. He rolled a collapsed pokeball back and forth between his fingers, slowly.

  "Ah, don't listen to an old man like me. I've gotten too superstitious. Every precaution has been taken to make your retirement a good and permanent one. Go enjoy it."

  The man tossed the ball up in the air, then caught it again. "That I will. Have a good life, Chief."

  "Have a good life, Stone."