"Honestly, did you really think it would be so simple to hack into my computer?" Duncan laughed. "That keyboard is fingerprint sensitive. As soon as you typed in the password, I was informed via automated text that there was an intruder. Security were also alerted immediately."

"Clever..." Zam muttered, vaguely annoyed. He hadn't exactly been outsmarted but it was a move he hadn't anticipated and that irked him. Now he was in a bad position, facing down not only Duncan, head of the MPC but also half a dozen burly men in uniform who looked ready to taser him at any second. For now, they held back behind the blue-suited man, presumably to allow him to gloat over his alleged victory.

"Oh, you should've seen you obsessing over your work, you looked so adorable," Duncan mocked. "You were so caught up in what you were doing you didn't even notice the fire alarm cutting out or all of us entering. It was quite amusing to watch."

"Oh, I wasn't talking to myself, was I?" Zam asked. He wasn't even stalling for time, he just wanted to know if his recent conversations with his imaginary ex-girlfriend were out loud.

"That was the most entertaining part," Duncan grinned. At that moment the remaining three members of the MPC entered the room. Lord Salt looked the same as he always did on TV, Crawford was looking gorgeous as usual and Melvin was wearing a colour coordinated suit with his brother.

"Was it him?" Crawford asked before her eyes laid upon Zam. Her gaze turned cold.

"Hello Crawford!" Zam beamed. He casually sat back in Duncan's swivel chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Murdered anymore ex-lovers recently? Melvin, good to see you've been keeping clean on the poker scene, no more of that cheating business, alright? Oh, and good afternoon Lord Salt."

"You really are a meddlesome brat, aren't you?" Crawford said through gritted teeth.

"Thank you!" Zam replied with a huge smile on his face. "I do try my best."

"Unfortunately, it seems as though your best simply wasn't enough this time," Duncan said, with an unmistakable tone of glee. "You just fell a bit short. You figured out half of what you needed to know and then you allowed yourself to be captured. How disappointing this must feel."

"It does feel a bit strange," Zam admitted. It was true. He still hadn't properly figured out what was going on yet and that bugged him. "But more to the point something still doesn't quite add up. Why go to all the trouble of illegally smuggling Pokémon with Drought into the region to cause a famine? What do you get from it?"

"Think about it!" whispered imaginary Taylor. "What does he want more than anything?"

"Oh, of course," he sighed. "You get me, that's what you get. You get me cornered in your office. The thorn in your side gone forever."

"Oh Zam, so self-obsessed," Duncan laughed. "You really think I'd do all this for you? No, no, you're a nuisance and that's about it. If I wanted you gone I could snap my fingers and that would be the end of you. You're a small and insignificant little boy who just went too far and messed with the wrong people."

"Ok, now I'm motivated," Zam said with a blank expression on his face as he rubbed his hands together. He kicked off Duncan's desk slightly, swivelling the chair around as his brain whirred away, angrily trying to find the answer. "What's come from this famine? Lack of food, people dying, charity money. The money's not enough to make it worth it though, so what else? You get the region in a state of emergency, that's brilliant, you get... you get..."

"C'mon Zam, what does he want?" Taylor urged him on. "He loves to make money but what does he crave? What more could he have?"

"Gordon Bennett..." Zam breathed when the realisation hit him. "You've got the Prime Minister on a silver platter."

"Now you finally get it," Duncan nodded as he took a menacing step forward. The security force behind him did the same. "Right now, Gordon Bennett is in a meeting trying to secure the region some aid from some of the world's political leaders when sadly, an unfortunate accident may occur and our beloved Prime Minister will be dead."

"You're his right-hand man," Zam continued. "You could've set up everything about that meeting and he wouldn't suspect a thing. You're going to assassinate Johto's leader and then there's a power void and the region's desperate for it to be filled. With no time for an election thanks to the disaster you've caused, you step in as the region's knight in shining armour. You get what you really want. Power."

"Of course, I'll be the hero of the story," Duncan gloated. "I'll be able to fix every problem this region has with ease and I'll receive some wonderful praise for it but what the people won't realise is that all of those problems were my doing. Of course I know how to fix them."

"But then we're left with you in charge," Zam shook his head, laughing. "Sorry, but I can't let that happen. You've forced me to expose you as a criminal and your organisation as crooked."

"Really? You're trying to threaten me in the position you're in?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm doing," Zam nodded. "I thought that was kind of obvious."

"But you have no proof of any of my wrongdoings and more to the point, you're trapped," Duncan pointed out. He was wrong on both accounts. A smile crept onto Zam's face.

"Oh, Duncan, fooling your lot once was fun," Zam grinned, "Twice the same way was really amusing but three times the same way? That's a little ridiculous." He gave a tap on his glasses frame. He was still wearing the specs from when he ran the UV scan on Duncan's keyboard, but that's not all he'd done.

"Oh no!" Crawford cried, clasping her mouth. "You've been duped!"

"What are you talking about?" Duncan demanded as he swivelled around, his head darting back and forth between Zam and Crawford.

"These glasses are exceptionally good at recording what I see," Zam explained. "They now have, stored within them, incriminating evidence of you, Melvin and Crawford so I'd say they're rather valuable, especially in the eyes of the police."

"It doesn't matter, you're still trapped," Duncan snarled, his gleeful expression gone from his well-groomed face. "Guards!"

"Just before you do!" Zam cried out, bringing a pen from his pocket. "Do you have any idea what this button does?"

"What?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" Zam clicked the pen and the four Pokéballs that were stuck to the window behind him opened up with a flash of dazzling blue light.

"Voltorb!" The explosion was ferocious. Zam ducked his head, allowing the office chair to take most the flames. The MPC members and security force all desperately dived for cover as shattered shards of glass sprayed the room and a sudden rush of wind blew. The outside of the building was exposed.

"Sticky Voltorb bombs, what a toy! Anyways, bye!" Zam grinned as he kicked off Duncan's desk hard, launching himself backwards through the open window. He aimed his right hand at the opening and squeezed the watch on his wrist, firing a grappling hook that latched onto a structural pillar. It arced his fall so that he came straight back towards the skyscraper, planting his feet on the floor beneath the one he'd just been on.

He turned the dial on the watch, setting the grapple to quickly descend as he didn't have much time before the sturdy cable was broken by one of those guards. The cable unreeled itself at an alarming rate, causing him to descend down the building at a pace that definitely quickened his heart rate. His feet slipped at the windows as he was lowered further and further and the ground approached him. With only a handful of storeys to go, the cable snapped and Zam flailed around in the air, a brief moment of panic before he hit the button on his belt buckle, activating his jet boots to slow him down just enough so that he didn't become a little puddle of Zam.

"Phew..." Zam sighed as his feet met the ground. His right shoe gave a small cough. "I used up too much fuel earlier, righty's finished."

"And lefty's only got a drop left," Taylor pointed out. Once again, she'd magically teleported the length of the building without even breaking a sweat. Her hair was still in perfect place.

"Well, no time to lose," Zam said as he opened the door of his new car which he'd landed right next to. He slammed the door shut and put his foot to the floor. The red machine gave an angry growl before it jerked forwards and accelerated onto the road ahead. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where he was going. "Ok, let's see if this works then. Call Tristan."

"Playing JBC Radio One," the car responded in a calm soothing voice.

"No, call Tristan," Zam said, this time enunciating very clearly.

"Activating windscreen wipers."

"No!" Zam cursed, flicking a switch to manually turn the wipers off. "Why isn't it working?"

"Probably because you weren't exactly sober when you built this thing," Taylor said in a matter of fact tone. "Who knows what weird things you installed or how well you actually installed them."

"Great, I'll have to pull over and do it," he sighed.

"I don't think you'll want to do that," Taylor warned. He glanced at his mirrors and noticed several cars behind him with a luminous green and dark blue chequered pattern on the sides, blue flashing lights on the top and the word 'POLICE' on the front.

"Oh, shit!" he cursed as he rolled down his window to talk to an Arcanine with a police vest on that he could see speeding towards him. "Umm, hello officer, what seems to be the problem?"

"I say old boy; do you have any idea how fast you're going?" the Arcanine panted. Its legs were furiously beating the road, barely able to keep up with him.

"Sorry, no, the speedo's not working," Zam shrugged.

"Well I'll have you know, you're twenty over the speed limit!"

"There's a speed limit!" Zam moaned. "Since when?"

"To not be aware of such a rule is to say you don't know anything!" Arcanine exclaimed, apparently appalled. "Have you even passed your test? Is this car even road legal?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, how many rules are there?" Zam groaned loudly.

"Deflating tyres," said the soothing voice of his car.

"Wait, no! Inflate tyres!" he desperately cried.

"Calling Tristan."

"Finally!"

"Inflating tyres."

"Awigh' mate, 'ows it goin'?"

"Sorry officer, must dash, got a very important phone call to take," Zam grinned as he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, manoeuvring the gear stick up and down, engaging the clutch as he did so. The car gained speed at an immense rate, leaving the Arcanine in his dust but causing the police cars to blare their sirens and take up the chase.

"Mate, is 'at the rozzers?" Tristan asked through the speaker phone on his dashboard.

"Yeah, I've run into a little bit of trouble here mate, I'm going to need your help," Zam panted as he flicked the steering wheel with precision as he darted in and out of oncoming traffic in an attempt to shake the police. They wouldn't listen to him and by then it would be too late. He needed to get to Gordon Bennett and prevent his death. "The Prime Minister's in some emergency talks with some of the world's political leaders, I need to know where."

"I'll look it up," Tristan replied. Zam's tyres screeched as he hung a sharp right at a roundabout. He glanced at his mirrors and cursed. Several more police vehicles had joined the chase; he just couldn't shake these guys. "The meetins at some big ol' glass dome fing in Olivine."

"The Onion?"

"Yeah!" Tristan exclaimed. "Oh, mate, yer on the news!"

"Am I?" he asked.

"High-speed chase ongoin', the rozzers are in 'ot pursui'."

"If I'm important enough to be on the news then Gordon Bennett's still alive. I can do this." Zam pressed a button that looked like a red phone, ending the call. He was heading north currently, all he'd need to do was get rid of these annoyingly persistent cops and then turn west towards Olivine when the turning came up. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too late.

"You could always try alternative ways of shaking the cops," Taylor suggested. "After all, this is a very special car."

"Good idea," he nodded. "Let's find out what all these wonderful little buttons do." He pressed a button on the dashboard at random. It fired two magnets at two police cars that were hot on his heels. The magnets clung on to the doors of the cars and after a moment, the two violently came together connecting with a bang. The two spun out of control, blocking the road. He'd gained some space at the very least.

"Roadblock up ahead!" Taylor warned. Zam looked up. His heart skipped a beat as he saw three police cars parked horizontally, completely blocking the road. He had nowhere to go.

"Let's hope for a good one!" Zam cried, smashing a second button. What happened next was extremely odd. A pole shot up from the middle of his car and stuck out of the roof. Both he and imaginary Taylor looked with amazement as two thin, flat sheets of metal extended from the pole and then the pole began to rotate loudly and with incredible speed. His heart really began to race as the car wheels left the ground and the whole body started to fly through the air, over the shocked looking policemen. It looked like Tristan must've managed to convince him in his lack of sobriety to actually convert the car into a helicopter. That sly bastard.

"Well this can't be safe," Taylor said, looking rather green as she looked out the window. She had a point. The car rattled and squeaked as Zam tried to figure out how to fly this death machine.

"The steering wheel doesn't work."

"Of course it won't, this is a helicopter now!" Taylor snapped. "If you were going to design a helicopter, it'd be controlled by a joystick, wouldn't it?"

"The gearstick!" Zam cried, grabbing the vibrating stick and forcing it left. In a manner that definitely did not resemble working properly, the chopper turned and began moving forwards, lurching around horribly. Zam's heart was really pounding against his ribcage as the makeshift machine climbed higher.

"You're losing parts!" Taylor yelled. Zam swivelled around and saw the horrible truth. All sorts of things were flying out from the back of his car; the boot lid, his wing mirrors and then eventually the passenger side door.

"It's fine, we're getting closer!" he shouted over the noise of the rotating blade and his quickly disintegrating car. He could see Olivine coming more into shape as he flew over the coast. He could just about make out a large glass dome, known as The Onion. That was his destination. "Taylor, we're almost there!"

He didn't hear a response. He glanced to his left but she was gone. That was strange, where had she gone? Oh well, he didn't need her whining and bitching anyway, all she ever seemed to do was bring him down. He didn't need her. Not the imaginary version at least. Also, his heart seemed to have stopped racing away so that was a bonus.

"Oh no..." he breathed. He let go of the controls to the helicopter and took his foot off of the accelerator. The machine began to plummet towards the sea as his vision began to blur. He desperately felt at his neck and chest before his oxygen-starved brain realised the unfortunate truth. His heart had stopped beating.

"No... not now... please no..." he whispered. He had moments to live. He brought his hands together and as hard as he could, he slammed the balled fist into his chest, trying to restart the organ. All it did was waste his energy. Energy! He needed an electric shock!

"Defib..." he croaked, hoping that he had some kind of voice command installed that would save him. Nothing happened. His head was swimming and he was sweating uncontrollably. He couldn't do anything. He didn't have the strength or brain power to think of a way out. This was it. End of the line. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

"Magnezone!" Electricity flowed through his body, filling him with an odd mixture of pain and energy as a surge of sparks ran through him, jolting him back to life. His eyes snapped open and suddenly he was flying through the air, not in the helicopter as he could see that spiralling to its demise, he was freefalling.

"Magnezone!" he cried out fumbling for the Pokéball in his pocket. It took a few seconds as his white blazer was flapping around in the wind but he eventually clicked the button. He couldn't see his friend. Maybe it'd been trapped in the death trap of metal or maybe it had fallen to the ground. Either way, he hoped it'd been returned to its ball.

"Oh cock!" he suddenly exclaimed as he looked at his situation. He may have died only seconds ago but it seemed as though he might die again. He was tumbling to earth with next to no way of stopping himself. The impact would kill him instantly.

"Worry about that later!" he told himself. He spread his arms wide and angled his body as best he could. Now he was speeding towards The Onion at terminal velocity so even if he died on landing, at least the incriminating evidence would be found and maybe Duncan's plan would be foiled. Hopefully.

What were his options? He had a few seconds worth of fuel left in one of his jet boots, that wouldn't really do anything. He'd lost his grapple hook watch, his other watch was of no use... he was out of gadgets. He'd fallen just short. Surely, he could think of something, he was Zam the Hybrid, he always thought of something!

He tried to steady himself as he fell. The wind had been pushing him slightly off course and more importantly, it'd messed up his hair. No! That was trivial and this was a matter of life or-

"Shit!" he cried, slamming the button on his belt buckle at what he hoped was perfect timing, slowing him down marginally as he crashed into the glass dome. The split second of heat softened the glass slightly so that he smashed through it with ease. Desperately, he flung out his right hand and caught a beam, dislocating his shoulder, but slowing him down slightly as the jagged glass edges sliced straight through his fingers. He tumbled down towards the floor, giving himself just a moment to readjust before-

"Ahhh! Fuck! Argh!" It was excruciating. There was no other word for it. The pain was unreal. At the last second before impact, he'd stuck out his right arm, given that his digits were already severed and it'd taken almost the full force of impact. He writhed in pain, as unimaginable agony spread like fire through his arm and ribs. It was torture. Everything was broken. No, worse than that, every single bone in his right arm had been completely shattered. It was a mangled mess that was horrifying to look at and even worse to feel.

"What the hell?" he heard a man cry out. His eyes shot open and he tried his best not to scream in agony as he scanned the area. He was several metres from a table with several important looking people sitting down discussing something or other. Meanwhile, security were rushing him as if he was the biggest threat they'd ever seen. Really? The nearly dead man lying on the floor who just fell out of a bloody helicopter?

He saw Gordon Bennett. He was alive. How was he going to die? He hadn't even thought about that. He noticed a glass of water in his hand and on the off chance it was poison, he aimed and fired a crackling disc towards it, shattering it. Whatever the plan had been, it didn't matter now. He was being ushered out of the room and security would be far too tight for him to be harmed. Zam forced a grin. He'd won.

"Ow!" he yelled as a guard roughly brought him to his feet, grabbing his horrific mess of a right arm. "Please! Oh no! It hurts! Argh!"

"You're under arrest!" the man yelled.

"Hospital!" he cried. "Please! Now!" He couldn't take the pain anymore. It was utter agony. It was the worst pain anyone had ever experienced. He needed medical attention and he needed it urgently.

"You're not going anywhere sonny," the man said, slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists which hurt an excruciating amount.

"Look, I just saved him alright!" Zam yelled. "Look at my glasses, pull out the long part on the left, plug it into a computer, it'll show you everything. Duncan Jones and the MPC are behind everything now, please! Get me to a hospital!"

He may have been in unbelievable pain. He may be in some trouble with the police. He may have lost his girlfriend, destroyed his car and possibly lost his Magnezone, he still hadn't seen what had happened to his friend but none of it mattered. He'd beaten the MPC. The crooked organisation would never survive this. Duncan and his friends were going to prison for life. It was a good day to be Zam the Hybrid.