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The silence of a groggy Saturday morning in the main lounge of Team Rocket's headquarters was abruptly shattered as the big-screen television blared to life.

"MACHAMP FEDERATION WRESTLING!"

"Chiiing!"

The remote dropped from Noel's stubby limbs and landed face down on the carpet. The festively colored Chingling struggled to flip it upright and frantically mashed at the buttons while the announcer carried on.

"-WITNESS THE CARNAGE WHEN CAPTAIN SLATE AND THE NAPALM GIANT GO HEAD TO-"

Click.

"-garlic. While you simmer, add the mushrooms-"

Click.

"-the new Nasshin Seviper's sleek contours house a turbo engi-"

Click.

"-me how to get, how to get to-"

Click.

"Minha banheira está cheia de tomates!"

Click.

'MUTE' appeared in the top right corner in red capital letters, and there was silence.

"Ling?" The bell Pokemon looked up to see who had snatched the remote. Hayes, still in pajama pants and a faded t-shirt reading 'I void warranties.', pushed a sequence of buttons.

"-três enormes pombos estão comendo todas as minhas almoço-"

"How did you get it stuck on Portuguese?" the Rocket wondered, and tried another button.

The screen went white.

"Uh."

"In other news, a massive snowstorm that started last night in the Sky Peak Mountains has already laid a foot and a half of snow on the slopes and shows no signs of stopping."

"Geez," Hayes squinted, barely able to make out a jagged line of mountain peaks as the newscaster continued.

"Sandalwood City officials have declared a blizzard warning in effect until tomorrow morning. Elsewhere, highs in the mid-forties and partly cloudy skies.."

The sight of an Eevee - even two of them - didn't phase the Rocket. There'd been a bunch bouncing around the base lately. Hayes crouched down and offered the friendly one a hand to sniff, still carrying the lingering aroma of breakfast - or a late midnight snack - while he listened to Nikki.

"It's.. wow. Huh. Guess it's Saturday," the blond realized, and followed that with a mellow smile and a "'Morning." On closer inspection, his hair was mussed and his eyes bleary; he didn't look like he'd gotten much, if any, sleep. "Snow camping, huh?"

Noel rocked back and forth, trying to get upright. "Chiiing," she complained. Hayes nudged her to her feet with the remote. The little bell Pokemon promptly waddled for the grumpy-looking Eevee. "Chingling!" she beamed in greeting.

"Sure," Hayes agreed, curling his fingers back into his palm. They left the scent of tortilla chips, syrup and ramen in their wake - a coder's cobbled-together forage. "Meet you by the vans?" He rose to his feet and aimed the remote vaguely to the side. The TV went dark.

Noel paused, arms dropping to her sides with a 'tink.' "Ching?" she ventured. Her red and green topknot bobbled uncertainly. Weren't strangers just friends you hadn't met?

Maybe Bira just needed more meeting than others. With a slightly more emphatic "Ching-ling!" she thrust a stubby arm out, smiling her best and brightest smile. Her mouth being glossy metal and as wide as her entire body, that was saying something.

True, Hayes arrived a good fifteen minutes after Nikki, but he certainly looked prepared. The Rocket was in uniform and carrying a pack half as big as he was. A pair of snowshoes and walking poles were strapped to the back, and the blond was carrying a voluminous winter jacket over one arm. The other was upraised, swinging a set of keys around his finger.

He still didn't look like he'd had much sleep. Just caffeine.

"Hey," he greeted, and stifled a yawn. "Who's driving?"

That just got shrug and a nod. Hayes' mellow smile didn't change; either he didn't have a problem with searching in a blizzard for a highly dangerous Pokemon with a partner that, by all appearances, would like to push him in the way of an avalanche, or he was even less functional than he looked.

Both options were worrying.

Humming the barest skeleton of a tune to himself, the blond slipped his pack from his shoulders and slung it into the back. It landed with a solid thud beside Nikki's equipment. He pulled the hatch down, pulling his fingers free just in time, and took up the passenger's seat. The Rocket slipped the small shoulder bag that had been hidden by his bulky pack into his lap and undid his uniform jacket; like his partner, he'd dressed in layers. The van was warm and his rolled-up coat made a nice pillow..

He was asleep before they pulled out of the garage.

This much could be said in Hayes' defense: he didn't snore.

He stayed asleep for the potholes, the rough stops and switchbacks, even the patch of black ice that seriously tested the anti-lock brake system, hair all askew and eyelids flickering in deep sleep. Nikki's jacket, however, was the last straw. It knocked his glasses off and prompted a "Hbwuh?" as he jerked awake.

The landscape was mostly a blur. The Rocket fumbled for his spectacles, found them hanging from his left ear, and inspected the lenses for scratches. He blinked a few times, then put them on. "Right."

There was a businesslike note there, and he began to go through his shoulder bag for a small spray bottle. Once he found it, he shook it vigorously, then took his glasses off and sprayed a fine mist over the lenses.

Nikki's partner took a bit longer; he was sure to apply multiple coats of anti-fog spray to his glasses before pulling on the rest of his gear - the face mask, the coat, the snow pants, the heavier coat to go over the first, the neck warmer, hat, gloves, mittens to go over the gloves, and after a brief glance outside, a pair of snow goggles. When he opened the door he was barely distinguishable as Hayes, but his glasses didn't fog.

As he pulled his hood up and strode through the biting snow toward the back of the van, a red light beamed from his waist to the ground. It solidified into a green-eyed Pikachu who immediately laid his ears back against the cold, gave Hayes a look that said "You're crazy," and disappeared.

Hayes made some gesture at Nikki and took up his own pack. "Mmph."

He tried that again, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. "Got a plan?"

Hayes caught one word out of five, but Nikki's gesture was clear. In response, he nodded - sort of. Certain creases in his hood disappeared and others appeared in a way to suggest movement of the person inside. After a moment he saluted stiffly, to the rustling of Gore-Tex and fleece.

His partner had the advantage here - firsthand experience in the area, better knowledge of the ice bird they were tracking.. but Hayes had technology. He unzipped a pocket on the front of his jacket and withdrew a portable GPS tracker, careful not to fumble it into the snow. For a while he followed this as they walked, looking from the screen to the peak in the distance and back again. At intervals, he made notes with a stylus.

It was only when they reached snow that lay in deep, silent drifts, impossible to traverse except by laborious wading and high-stepping, that he put the device away and held up a hand. "Nikki. Hold up."