TEEN: The Deprogramming

[Arkadelphiak]

YOU CAN’T WIN.

YOU CAN’T BREAK EVEN.

YOU CAN’T EVEN GET OUT OF THE GAME.

—Ginsberg’s Theorem​

This fic is literally cancer, man.

So, getting sucked into a Pokémon video game sounds great, right?

In a deconstruction, the answer is always no. Let’s start with tons of clichés . . . and let’s see how good my satire skillz are. Then I’ll turn all that nonsense into a technothriller. Seriously. Prepare thyself for explicit language, some violence, death, merciless mockery of my friends’ fics, minor drug use (i.e. a chapter dedicated to a cocaine joke), and thermodynamics. Depending on how disorderly I let this fic get, it may need a Mature rating; we’ll see.

The reason I’m writing this is because I can’t get it out of my head. It’s bothered me for y-e-a-r-s, and now I want it out. I need to move on with my life. Think of this as a really weird comedy with some vicious twists beneath. If it ever gets popular, I hope to turn it into original fiction. So picture —not pry open— one of your Pokémon game cartridges: inert, plasticky, lifeless . . .

And let me show you otherwise.

​

T H E
D E P R O G R A M M I N G

OR

M A M A N



_______________________________ Part I: Master of Ceremonies _______________________________

Garbage In​

First Impressions​

Make Goldenrod City Great Again​

New Frontiers

Emerald

Scientific Progress Goes ‘Crack’

Glitter Glue

Redux

The Oracle of Goldenrod

Tower of Babble

The Blame Game

Perl

The Net

Two Scientists Walk Into a Bar

Snake Eyes

↓

___________________________________ Part II: Heat Death ___________________________________

Ingrid

Garbage Out

The Oracle of Mount Silver

The Monster of Goldenrod

Duplicity

Absolute Zero

Imposter Syndrome

A Bolt from the Blue

No Silver Bullet

No News is Good News

The Golden Rule

Effeuiller la Marguerite

Zero-Sum Game

HeartGold

De Novo
​

 

[Arkadelphiak]

_______________________________ Part I: Master of Ceremonies _______________________________


The future belongs to those who can manipulate entropy.

—Frederic Keffer


I

GARBAGE IN

​

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“. . . Ouch. Is this thing on? Hello?”

Tap, tap.

“You don’t know me, but . . . you’re probably wondering why we’ve hijacked all your radio broadcasting transmissions. Well, this is a deprogramming. Nobody move. Grab some Fresh Water and get comfortable. You must listen to this.

That being said, I really don’t mean to offend you, but . . . you are my property.

I’m dead serious. I own you. About a decade ago, I bought this video game for seven dollars plus tax. I was cheap and you were at the bottom of the secondhand video games barrel. It was meant to be, I guess. Maybe you belonged to a little kid. Or a really sad adult. Who knows?”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“Ouch. Hey, Marcus, can you c’mere and fix this thing?”

. . .

“Thanks. So, uh, I’ve got a bad history with video games. Destructive, really, but that’s spoiling the whole damn story. See, I’m a bit of a postmodern Prometheus. I created a monster. But this— this wasn’t just any monster. This thing ruined my life.”

. . .

. . .

“Dammit.”

. . .

“Sorry for all the rambling. I’m wasting your prime time, after all. But now I can’t stop asking myself . . . what good was it anyway? Spoiler alert: we’re all gonna die of heat death at the end of this painfully finite existence. I can’t stop it; you can’t stop it . . .

All we can do is sit here and deprogram ourselves. Let’s get started.”

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER​

This story is completely true. It might have happened in the past or near future, and cannot be proven beyond a reasonable doubt, but it happened. And it began at midnight, since nothing good can happen at midnight.

“. . . Dammit.”

The protagonist of this strange tale woke up. Her neck lolled back, leaving her to stare at the tacky popcorn ceiling. She laid there on the sofa for a few seconds, blinking hard. That damned lab report had put her to sleep again. Grumbling to herself, she patted the air until her hand found the nearby lamp. She made it click and watched through the shade as the lightbulb flickered . . . and died out.

“Great,” she sighed into the sofa cushion.

She buried her palms into her eye sockets. She grumbled some more, cursing all her poor life decisions for some reason, and yanked open the bottom drawer of the lamp’s dresser. The contents slammed into the face of the drawer.

Crack.

She cringed at the unmistakable demise of a lightbulb. Her fingers started to roam the front corners of the drawer with the lightest pressure, searching for a surviving lightbulb. Glass shards were everywhere. Upon reaching the back of the drawer, they bumped into a foreign object.

To her surprise, she pulled out an obsolete toy: a Nintendo DS.

The cheap, glossy coating pooled all the weak moonlight into each corner. Surprised that the ancient hinges allowed it, she opened up the toy. Her reflections stared back from two dusty screens. Between its original owner, her secondhand usage, and an assassination attempt from her mother, it had survived a lot. It had lost its luster years ago.

But she was too old for video games. She was an adult.

The self-proclaimed adult felt a migraine beginning to develop and sighed. She leafed at an open book with the free hand, pretending to be productive, and shut it with yet another sigh. She stared around at the dark room. How was she supposed to get anything done in complete darkness?

Well, she thought, I guess I could use this thing as a light . . .

Her eyes wandered back to the Nintendo DS.

Click.

Nothing.

“Mmm,” she mumbled. “Dead.”

Of course, a Nintendo DS wasn’t going to provide enough light. She grumbled even more, straining out of the sofa. She dropped the toy onto the hard cushion where she once sat. The wobbly hinges swung it shut with a loud clap. She tried to ignore her cringe.

Before she made it into the kitchen, she paused in the doorframe. Something felt off.

The protagonist turned back to the dead toy sitting there, all alone. It must have been in that drawer all this time. She hadn’t played with it in countless years. Maybe a decade, even. She had beaten the entire game and even hacked— well, we aren’t that far in the story yet.

Groaning to herself, she went back into the drawer and rummaged until she found the power adapter. She plugged it into a wall outlet, then punched it into the charging port on the back of the toy.

Click.

Its bright orange light came on in thanks. It wasn’t dead, after all.

“Hope you’re happy,” she mumbled.

But she still needed to do something about the migraine splitting her brain in two. And, speaking of brains, it was ironic that hers put her in so much agony. She was going to become a neuro-oncologist someday.

She entered the kitchen. Rather than ruin her night vision, she kept the lights off and went to the medicine drawer. She pulled out a sheet of partially opened painkillers, then got an empty glass off the counter and filled it with sink water. The protagonist stared at the gigantic red pills in a sleepy haze. Even after swallowing one, she wouldn’t be in good enough condition to continue those dreaded oncology studies. Cancer was not her friend. But they had a complicated relationship. It was a matter of life itself, and frankly, she didn’t—

“Goo-ood morning, Miss Kotone!”

. . . Was that a voice?

Of course not. Kotone, still staring at the glass of water, figured that the migraine was messing with her auditory system. She popped out a pill, put it on her tongue, and swallowed it with a splash of water.

“Miss Kotone?” the voice said again, loud and clear.

Her eyes doubled in size. The pill occluded her trachea in an instant. Kotone put a hand to her throat with an airless gasp. Her brain, fuzzy with panic, raked itself for a solution.

Dislodge obstruction via Heimlich maneuver: start with a fist, press between navel and xiphoid process, place other hand over fist, ram into abdomen—

Kotone repeatedly jammed her fist into her gut to no avail. Her lungs spasmed. There she was, with a bright and beautiful future ahead of her . . . and she was choking to death on a painkiller. Pathetic.

“Is it really morning? Should I be saying good night? That is what you humanoids say, right?”

The little voice coming from the living room made her realize something: the sofa’s blunt edge might help her dislodge the pill. Kotone staggered across the cracked linoleum and back into the den, reeling with oxygen deprivation, and lowered her shoulder. She sprinted at the sofa with all her might, aiming her abdomen right for the corner. She crashed into it and dragged the sofa a few feet over.

The pill, propelled by a rush of air, popped out of her windpipe and back into her mouth. She spat the gritty pill onto the cushions beside the Nintendo DS. Kotone stood there with both hands on the backrest, hyperventilating. That was going to leave a nasty bruise.

“Uh, Miss Kotone? What was that?”

“Oh shit,” she breathed, remembering she wasn’t alone. Kotone scanned every possible inch of the room, meeting empty air. She looked at the black window nearby and saw nothing but a terrified reflection. “Who are you?” she shouted, digging her nails into the fabric. “What’re you doing in here?”

“I live in here,” the voice said matter-of-factly.

Kotone looked down, realizing the voice was coming from inside the Nintendo DS. She blinked and made no effort to move. This entire situation was completely mindboggling. Was this some sudden manifestation of exhaustion? Encroaching schizophrenia? Was the universe telling her to give up and succumb to its inevitable heat death, albeit trillions of years in advance?

“I know you are there,” it snapped. “Please open this thing up. I have to talk to you.”

She sighed at the ceiling with shut eyes. And then, only then, did she resolve to pick up the console. She put her thumbs between the plastic halves and hesitated. Would this thing try to electrocute her? There was only one way to find out. Kotone tilted back the top screen at an agonizing speed. As she peered around the edge, two tiny eyes stared out from the bottom screen.

“Miss Kotone?”

They looked nearly as shocked as Kotone did, and her eyeballs were nearly popping from their sockets. Neither of them seemed sure of what to say. With agonizing slowness, Kotone brought a pointer finger to her chest and cocked her head.

“Are you . . . talking? To me?”

Kotone never expected a response as the words travelled into the microphone.

“Of course!”

She squinted and leaned in, focusing on the pupils. They eased forward in interest. Two white irises held a black pinpoint in their centers. She tapped the screen right between the eyes. They blinked and reared back.

“Miss Kotone?”

“Huh?”

“You probably should not do that to your toy.”

Kotone recoiled her finger from the screen. It had a reasonable point, but this thing was so . . . warmly. It waited on her words with a strange reverence. But how exactly does one carry on a conversation with an inanimate object?

“Who . . . are you?” Kotone asked at length.

“I am an old friend.”

She twisted up her face, then frowned and looked off; she didn’t really believe that. She found it hard to believe this was all the work of a migraine, either. “. . . Uh, okay then. But how d’you know my name?”

It must have been smiling. “Everyone knows your name.”

“No,” she said, turning back to face it, “not everybody. You’re scaring me. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“Oh. I am sorry. I do not like being scary,” it said, looking down for a second.

Something more complex floated behind the primitive pixels. And its voice was unlike any other: it sounded perfectly genderless, yet faintly masculine.

I should document this, she thought. Maybe I’d get a Nobel Peace Prize for a talking machine . . . I can see it now: Sentient, Secondhand Nintendo Product Beats Turing Test . . .

A renegade thought hit Kotone, in between the throbbing migraine and the insistent little voice. She surveyed the depressing little living room with a morose expression.

Maybe Nintendo would make me their spokesperson . . . then I’d get rich and famous and never have to work again. Yeah. Perfection. I’d buy a private island in the middle of nowhere, and . . .

“Miss Kotone? Hello-o?”

“Huh?”

“Okay. This is not getting us anywhere. Let us try small talk. You humanoids like that, right? What are you reading?” it asked politely, stealing a look at the wilted textbook nearby. That tattered thing was far older than them.

“A book.”

“Of course.”

Kotone and the houseguest stared at each other in the silence.

“A book,” it noted. “How interesting.”

“. . . Yeah. That one’s, uh, real hard. It puts me to sleep a lot.”

“Really? Without directly using Hypnosis or Sleep Powder? Fascinating! Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I’m . . . gonna be a neuro-oncologist someday.”

“A . . . er, what?”

“It’s a type of doctor. I’m gonna cure brain cancer. I guess.”

“Oh! Why?”

Kotone raised an eyebrow. “You know a lot about me. I'm surprised you don’t understand my family dynamics.” She sighed. Her sanity might have been in question, but she let her curiosity do the talking instead. “Uh, why don’t you . . . have a seat?” she said, then walked toward the front of the sofa, guiding the power adapter cable around it.

“I will attempt to do that.”

She set the Nintendo DS down onto the coffee table, then sat down facing the toy. She put her chin in her palms and balanced her elbows on the tabletop, staring down at the screens. “Call me crazy for talking back to a machine, but can I tell you a secret?”

“I am not a— er, absolutely.”

“My parents are making me do this. All this brain cancer stuff. I mean, sure, that’s nothing new; parents do that all the time to their kids. I’m just . . . just so fucking miserable. And then—”

“Say no more!” the houseguest exclaimed.

“Huh?”

“I can help you with that. Really, I can.” It swam up to the top screen for a better vantage point, looking Kotone right in the eyes. “Please let me help you,” it said in a rush. It was almost breathless. “Come in here. With me. All of your problems will go away.”

Kotone, annoyed that her guest had interrupted her tragic backstory, stared at the Nintendo DS in confusion. “I’m not sure if I understand what you mean.”

“You. Me. In here.”

“Like,” she said, unable to suppress the disbelieving tone, and pointed at the Nintendo DS, “in there? Inside a video game?”

“Exactly! What do you think?”

Silence.

She removed her glasses, leaning back into the sofa cushions, and rubbed the lenses on the edge of her shirt. She held them under her thumb for a few seconds, trying to come up with something to say. “I don’t really want that,” she said tentatively.

The eyes widened, but continued to watch her.

She slipped the thick frames back on. Kotone’s incredulous expression stared back from the top screen, superimposed over the tiny eyes. “I mean, that’s real nice,” she said as enthusiastically as she could. “But, y’know, impossible. Uh . . . like, I’m real sorry and I hate to tell you this, but basic physics renders that entirely—”

“No-no-no! You are so wrong!”

It dawned upon Kotone that she had just been dissed by an inanimate object. It wouldn’t be the last time, either. She blew off an exasperated laugh. “You can’t defy the laws of physics, pal. What’s your name?”

“Defy? I have all that taken care of. What are you talking about?”

“I am talking,” she enunciated ever so slowly, “about real life. Like . . . common sense. Don’t be stupid.”

They stared at each other in a sudden silence.

Kotone glared at the eyes, then the Nintendo DS itself. The situation’s absurdity finally kicked in. “Oh, what on Earth am I doing?” she cried, digging both hands through her hair. “I’m talking to a machine!”

“You are not talking to a machine,” it said in annoyance. “You are talking to me.”

“Then who the hell are you?”

A nasty little hiss came from the tiny speakers. “That requires a very delicate explanation,” it declared. “And a couple of hours. But I can assure you that it makes a fascinating story—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand and cupped her forehead with the other, as if that could prevent her brain from splitting open. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care who you are anymore. You and this migraine are absolutely killing me. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure that you’re a hallucination.” She sighed. “I’m not a kid, y’know. Do I look like a kid to you?”

Silence.

“Do I?”

“I cannot answer that question.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Here’s the answer: I don’t. And y’know why? Because I don’t have the time to sit on my ass all night and talk to imaginary friends. I don’t care about stupid video games, either.”

“Then why not just throw me away?” it pondered aloud.

Kotone crossed her arms and leered, glancing at the trash can. “That’s actually a good idea.”

The eyes doubled in size. “Wait, no-no-no—”

Kotone snapped up the Nintendo DS, clapped it shut, ripped the power adapter out, and tossed it back into the drawer. She kicked the drawer shut, rattling the cheap lamp in the process. It wobbled dangerously, then dove for the floor. Kotone lunged and barely caught it in time. She swore at the Nintendo DS around the lampshade, cursing it for ruining her night, and set the lamp back in its place.

Muffled complaints came from the bottom drawer, then silenced after a moment.

Good. Stay in there and be quiet.

As you can see, things were not going as planned for either of the protagonists. Kotone, mildly convinced she was developing schizophrenia, decided to schedule an appointment with her physician in the morning. She spent five minutes in the kitchen psyching herself up to swallow another painkiller. She glanced suspiciously around the doorframe at the dresser, and swallowed the monstrous pill with a full glass of water.

She survived, believe it or not. But her curiosity overrode her desire to lie down and forget about everything. If she was developing some disorder, there was nothing she could do right then.

There was nothing barring her from antagonizing her ‘hallucination,’ however.

So, Kotone pulled the bottom drawer back open and removed the toy. She held it shut and let herself savor the power trip. This was the most interesting thing to happen to her in years, but she wasn’t going to admit that. Feeling unusually kind, she plugged the power adapter back into the Nintendo DS. Kotone opened it up and discovered two eyes glaring up at her from the bottom screen.

“Two can play at this game, you know.”

“Okay.”

“Go ahead. Turn on this toy.”

Kotone raised her eyebrows. “And, what,” she simpered, “you’re gonna suck me inside a video game or something?”

A long smile with lots of teeth glinted below the eyes, then vanished. “More or less.”

“Isn’t that a little too cliché for your taste?”

“I have no sensation of taste,” it droned.

Thrilled at the opportunity to make a fool out of an inanimate object, Kotone loomed over the Nintendo DS, staring down the eyes. “Then do you want me to click something? Look, I haven’t played with this damn thing in years. I’ve probably forgotten how to—”

“No, just turn it on. On.”

She scrutinized the tiny set of eyes. “That’s all you want?”

“Yes, of cour— wait. Did . . . er, you read the Health and Safety Precautions booklet?”

She wanted to laugh at the ridiculous question, but found herself staring blankly instead. “Uh, nobody reads those things, pal. What’s wrong with your voice?”

“Hmm. Maybe it does not matter?”

There were plenty of things that mattered to Kotone, and they all were more important than playing with a kiddie toy. She glanced at the clock and gaped at how much time she’d already wasted with this thing. She shut her eyes, feeling the migraine throbbing behind them. She took a deep, meditative breath.

“Just a click?” Kotone asked with limp shoulders, turning back to the toy.

“Just a click. A tiny click.”

“. . . Whatever.”

Click.

WARNING – HEALTH AND SAFETY


BEFORE PLAYING, READ THE HEALTH

AND SAFETY PRECAUTIONS BOOKLET

FOR IMPORTANT INFORMATION

ABOUT YOUR HEALTH AND SAFETY.


TO GET AN EXTRA COPY FOR YOUR REGION, GO ONLINE AT

www.nintendo.com/healthsafety/


Touch the Touch Screen to continue.
​

Spoiler: FUN FACT

The chapter title is a reference to the computer science concept of "Garbage In, Garbage Out." Or in layman's terms, "bad input equals bad output." Make of that what you will.

 

[Arkadelphiak]

The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.

—Neil DeGrasse Tyson


II

FIRST IMPRESSIONS​

“This is the Director of the Radio Tower, emceeing tonight’s Variety Channel! We’ve got a real treat for you! So, get yourself real comfortable and— oh! My apologies! We interrupt your regularly scheduled radio broadcasting for a weather alert.”

. . .

“Thanks, sir. Goodness gracious! Route 34 is currently experiencing a . . . a little bit of a rinse, you could say. Please avoid Route 34! Severe thunderstorms with heavy lightning activity have been reported in the area. We traced it back to migrating Gyarados in the adjacent waters. They’re all likely in their seventies. Likely. As an obvious reminder, please don’t bother ‘em! They’re feral and completely uninterested in your diplomacy!

Well, sorry to keep you waiting. That wraps up our weather alert for the Goldenrod jurisdiction.

This is DJ Mary, signing off! Back to you, sir!”

A FEW MOMENTS LATER, ON ROUTE 34​

The body of water bordering Johto’s Route 34 was dubbed “the Seething Sea” by the locals. It was a popular migratory path for Gyarados and Magikarp during this time of the year, hence the name. That tract of land, nestled between Goldenrod City to the north and the Ilex Forest to the south, held a tension in its humidity: it was infamous for its random acts of violent weather.

Two meaty Gyarados, eye-to-eye and mere inches away, hissed at each other. Their massive dorsal fins flared. A cluster of whiskers bristled in front of their dark, red eyes. When it came to their clan’s politics, the two of them bickered like an old married couple. They were compelled to add lightning this time, citing something about metaphors.

They kept using Thunderbolt after every, single dramatic statement. Naturally, the other Gyarados in their clan were getting sick of this. But all they could do was frown as their intellectuals ripped thunderbolts from the clouds above. What was once a series of small, gray drifters had churned into a dark mass moving inland. No wonder the humans hated diplomatic Gyarados.

They were making decent progress toward a resolution, actually . . . until some overachiever pulled out Thunder from his arsenal.

Boom.

The massive lightning bolt struck a little too close to shore. It rattled the atmosphere and stunned the opposing Gyarados for a moment. Then she roared, lunging at her guilty mate. Five of the biggest Gyarados clamped down on the offender, restraining him for her. Her subordinate, possessing Thunder of all things? Inconceivable!

The eldest Gyarados loomed over the whimpering one, eager to discipline. A ball of white-hot plasma grew in her throat. The minor cringed and shut his eyes. A Hyper Beam to the face was imminent. But a small flash in the sky, brighter than any lightning, caught the disciplinarian’s eye.

It happened instantly. With that tiny click from Kotone’s ancient Nintendo DS . . .

Ping!

The Gyarados watched a small rift tear through the night sky, then spit out a humanoid shape. The rift sealed up and left the small human to plummet from the sky. She and her screams disappeared into the water with a small splash.

The matriarch froze. The Hyper Beam dissipated in her throat. She nodded at another Gyarados, pointing her snout at the dissipating ripples. The male sighed and rolled his eyes, then swept under the water with his tailfin until he brushed the human. With a gentle pressing motion, he coaxed her to the surface.

The human broke the surface, took a single gasp, and realized that this wasn’t her living room. She was, in fact, surrounded by a cluster of moderately-hostile sea serpents. She screamed and slapped at the water’s surface, aiming for the nearby shore. The eldest Gyarados snorted at her poor swimming form, then turned back to the one she was arguing with. The telltale heat signature of a Hyper Beam reappeared in her throat.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

As for our protagonist . . . well, her migraine had vanished. But getting sucked into a video game wasn’t quite so simple. Her glasses were currently plummeting toward the ocean floor, so it’s fair to say that all her problems hadn’t gone away yet. Kotone could hardly see three feet ahead; her farsighted vision took over.

It took a minute, but Kotone managed to paddle her way to shore. Waves slapped her face repeatedly. Her foot unexpectedly caught the sandbar. Streaming with water, she steadied herself and surveyed the land in disbelief. Wet grassland on her left, thick forest on her right. The air was sizzling with static electricity. Thunder rumbled overhead. The world seemed to sputter; the clouds jittered back and forth, then resumed their rolling boil. The world wasn’t quite sure what to think of her sudden appearance. But the world kept watching.

“. . . No-no-no . . .”

She whimpered, taking a few steps out of the water. She started hyperventilating.

“This . . . can’t be real?”

There was a distant, disembodied scoff. “Of course this is real.”

Kotone spun around, agape. She knew that voice. It was everywhere and nowhere, all at once. But she was unable to find the source. She squinted and saw nothing but sea serpents —absolutely not Pokémon, she reminded herself— in the distant water.

“It is real because it worked. It really worked. As a matter of fact, you should be thanking me.”

Kotone smeared her wet bangs away from her eyes. “Thanking you?” she shrieked in disbelief. “For what you’ve done to me?”

“Yes,” it admitted, sounding closer.

Kotone spun around again, but no one was there. She backed out of the water, looking over her shoulder frequently. “Get me out of here,” she yelped. “I don’t want this!”

The voice paused. “No, no, no, let me clarify. You really do want this. Believe me, I know what I am doing. Please, just relax and—”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed, throwing her arms around at the sky. “Just shut up! This is all wrong!”

“Miss Kotone, I—”

She screamed and crouched down on the sand, head pressed between her knees. “No-no-no,” she whimpered. “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m just dreaming . . .”

The mysterious stranger watched Kotone sit there and sob for a few moments. It wasn’t exactly sure what to do; frankly, it was shocked that it had gotten this far in the first place. So, it sat there and did nothing, stricken with guilt, as rainwater soaked through every inch of Kotone’s clothing. It mentally flipped through the only points of conversation it knew.

“You . . . did at least try to read that Health and Safety Precautions booklet, right? It sounds really important.”

“Shu-ut up,” she stammered.

They were quiet for a few more moments.

“You know,” the houseguest said in a gentle voice, “I have been waiting for this day for a very, very long time.” It paused as Kotone wept a bit more and smeared the various salty liquids off her face, then it began again, even softer. “I know this is a real bother, but I need to talk to you about some things, Miss Kotone.”

She glanced at the nearby foothills, inspecting some nearby shrubbery in hopes of spotting the culprit; yet, nothing was there. “Talk to me? Couldn’t you have, like, done that without sucking me into a video game? What have I done to deserve this?”

The mysterious stranger was silent. She did have quite a point there.

By then, Kotone had assumed that some handsome-yet-troubled man was behind this. That seemed reasonable, after all. Perhaps he wanted to sweep her off her feet and force them to live happily ever after. Something, something, true love. Either way, this was a real inconvenience for everyone involved.

Kotone was beginning to get her senses back. She shivered and brought her knees up to her chin. The more she scanned the area, the more she wondered how the hell she’d end up getting out. There was no magical portal. No wishing well. Just sodden, sandy grasses as far as the eye could see. Wrinkles from a nasty, venomous frown began creeping up to her eyes. She didn’t have time for this— this was a children’s video game, after all.

“By the way, what if I don’t want to play a part in your fantasy?” she pondered aloud. Her eyes narrowed, out of focus. “You never gave me a choice.”

There was a guilty lapse in conversation. “Yes, I am highly aware that—”

“That what? That you’re completely at fault here?”

An even guiltier pause. “Listen, Miss Kotone, I am trying very hard to—”

“Aaugh! Shut up!” she exploded. Kotone, who had finally reached her boiling point, got up off the ground and crossed her arms, scanning the area. She was done with the idle prater. “Just shut up and come out here. I know you’re hiding in some bushes.”

“Uh . . . I would rather not come out right now.”

Kotone ground her teeth. “You’re pathetic,” she spat. She threw out her hands in a new direction. “You think you can do this to me? You think I’ll let you just ruin my fuckin’ life? Quit hiding and face me like a real man,” she said, brandishing her petite fists as if she could actually win a fistfight.

Silence— then, a defeated sigh.

“You do not want me to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

The houseguest was pensive for a moment. Another sigh was emitted. “Well, for your information,” it grumbled, “I am right beneath you.”

Kotone froze. Huh?

The houseguest’s voice was too close. It had gained far too many decibels. Kotone flinched and looked down at the blurry, muddy grassland beneath her feet. She blinked out rainwater and rubbed her eyes. But something was beginning to phase up through the ground, failing to disturb the tiny wildflowers. A black, oily liquid appeared first, followed by two dinnerplate-sized eyes, which zeroed in on Kotone.

“What the fuck?” she gasped. Her legs staggered back automatically. “What are you?”

It slowly extended up from the puddle. Lightning flashed, highlighting something that resembled a gooey, black moray eel. It rolled its neck around, balancing out a heavy spine. It loomed over Kotone, thirty feet tall and hardly uncoiled. There had been a reversal, you see. The houseguest had gained far more than the advantage of size.

Kotone’s entire face whitened. She froze as the thunder rolled over them. The eyes, glowing white in the darkness, looked down on her. That monotone voice betrayed nothing of the monster’s gruesome appearance.

It is critical to mention that Kotone, as wonderful and talented or whatever she was, had a single phobia: snakes. She wasn’t going to admit it, but, like many, she would have preferred a handsome man whisking her off into the sunset. Anything but this.

Gifted with at least one iota of common sense, she turned and fled —screaming with blind terror, no less— in the opposite direction. Her ophidiophobia was at full throttle. The monster sighed and sprouted a tentacle from its body. It tensed up and shot after Kotone, wrapping around her torso and reeling her back through the mud.

“Aaugh! Lemme go! Please!”

“I told you not to make me come out,” it said, much like a disgruntled parent. “Please stop trying to run away. I just want to talk to you.”

Kotone found that increasingly hard to believe; those teeth looked more like they wanted to mince her up on the spot! It pulled her back in front of it and released her, but kept a snare on her ankle. She thrashed against it for a few moments before realizing it was futile. She wailed and buried her face in her hands.

“It is just me,” the monster insisted. “Your old friend.”

It took a few seconds, but Kotone regained enough composure to continue swearing. “Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” she yelled, trying to prevent her voice from lapsing into more screams. She shook her head, still gaping. “Who are you?”

Time seemed to freeze after that question. You see, that was the worst possible question to ask.

Stricken with disbelief, the monster gasped. It slowly recoiled, shaking its head. Its eyes went vacant for a few seconds. A substantial wrench had just been thrown into its plans.

“Are— are you saying you have no idea who I am?”

Kotone struggled against the snare on her ankle, nodding as she fought back tears. “I— I don’t even know you,” she insisted. “What’re you talking about?”

The two of them, equally dumbfounded by this turn of events, could only stare at each other.

“Look at me,” the monster said, getting closer. “Look at me. Do you recognize me at all? Do you remember me, from all those years ago? From Emerald and Pearl?”

In the resulting silence, Kotone watched the hope drain off the monster’s face.

“You . . . really did forget about me,” it stated, aghast. “Unbelievable.”

The monster had to think about this. It remained frozen for a few seconds, then let off a depressed sigh.

“Just let me keep talking to you,” it said, leaning in too close for comfort. “We have some very important things to discuss; I can introduce myself later. Please have a seat.”

Kotone’s mouth went ajar. Her eyes flicked all over its horrifying face. Unable to match its stare any longer, she glanced at the ocean, noticing the blue serpents had stopped their fighting. Even in the lowlight, she could make out confused expressions on their faces.

“No,” she spat, turning to the monster. “You are not the boss of me. I want out of this stupid, fucking video game. Now.”

It scoffed. “You are stuck here with me whether you like it or not.”

In a fit of terror and rage, Kotone flailed about aimlessly. The snare tightened slightly, letting her trip. She smacked into the wet grass. “Let me go!” she screamed, scrabbling back. “I fuckin’ hate you! Aaugh! Lemme go!”

“You are very lucky that I do not have a dresser nearby,” it said with the faintest trace of humor.

Kotone countered with the one thing she was best at: she ripped loose another angry scream.

The monster got back in her face, craning down to eye-level. A low sound emanated from its throat. “I,” it began in a restrained tone, “have waited a very, very long time for this. Do you really think I am going to let you out that easily? You have to be taught a lesson.”

“I don’t need a lesson from anyone,” Kotone snapped. She jabbed a finger at it. “Especially from the likes of a monster.”

The monster’s eyes widened. Then it hissed, its face peeling back and exposing thousands of needle-like teeth. It salivated a bright, glittery liquid behind its teeth. “Actually,” it said scathingly, “you should restrain your judgement. You made me a monster.”

Kotone was too stunned to even breathe. Her pointer finger recoiled. Her beautiful future was now in the hands of this self-righteous leviathan. She shrunk away, covering her face. The monster leaned in to smile at her. Countless slurps sounded as its gooey mandibles stretched apart, bursting with countless spiny teeth.

“And,” it hissed, “as I was saying—”

Kotone screamed bloody murder, just as the world conveniently started spinning around her.

FURTHER SOUTH ON ROUTE 34, A FEW MINUTES EARLIER​

“I told you it was gonna rain.”

The scene was dark. The sky was interspersed with flashes of lighting and distant thunder. The air was well-brined with rainwater. Two men were walking toward Azalea Town in the early morning hours; they were arguing like the old fools they pretended not to be.

“I told you,” the little old man repeated, “that it was gonna rain. I told you that the Gyarados were passing through today.”

He and the taller man were nearing the dense, leafy ceiling of the Ilex Forest, where the sloshy grasses under their shoes waited to turn into moss. The Gentleman was carrying a pink creature —a pet of the old man— in his arms. The pet’s head bobbed up and down in contented silence— it still hadn’t noticed the rain dribbling down into its drooling mouth.

The old man paused, then held up his hands in offering. “So, now I gotta hear myself get told: why’re we out here without an umbrella?”

The Gentleman didn’t break his silence.

The old man gritted his teeth. He had no idea why he was so angry about the Gentleman not listening to him, but he’d be damned if he let the man wriggle out of this with an intact ego. “You make me so damn mad. It’s ‘cause you never listen to me, y’know that?”

“It’s for your own good.”

The old man was currently in a battle of niceties. His gentlemanly sensibilities were fighting the urge to blister the Gentleman with I-told-you-so’s. “Ooh,” he hissed, his Azalean hospitality reeling the profanities back, “you may think you know what’s best for me,” he snapped, waggling a finger below the Gentleman’s nose, “but I can’t wait for the day you’re wrong.”

The Gentleman’s eyebrows went up. He patted the Slowpoke, using the delay to taste-test his array of responses. “You know I can’t help it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s in my programming.”

He was right. The taller one wasn’t a gentleman: he was a Gentleman. He was the type to give a complete stranger the clothes off his back. He embodied the very essence of geniality because he was programmed with that exact purpose, and nothing more. He was a simple, programmed man.

“You aren’t even listenin’ to me,” the old man grumbled, “you uppity piece’a—”

Ping!

The entire world lit up, illuminating their faces. The sky went completely white. The thunderheads froze, seizing even the lightning in place. And, just like that, the world sizzled with purpose again. It stirred up its programming with a urgency that warmed their ears. It was a feeling from well-over a decade ago. Neither of the men could breathe. They turned to look at each other, frozen in time and space —and something else— as rainwater dripped into their eyes. They too, had a purpose again.

“It’s back on,” the old man found himself stating.

The Gentleman shook his head in disbelief. “I thought she’d forgotten all about us.”

“Me too.”

The Gentleman’s thoughts were spinning about: why would Miss Kotone turn on the video game after so long? Why now? What was going on in her world?

These thoughts brought his line of sight back up to the sky, which went back to black. Immediately afterwards, a great ripping sound startled the Gentleman. A massive flash of light, brighter than any lightning, occurred just beyond the brim of his derby hat. He swerved around, completely missing the rift that had torn across the sky. A tinny little scream followed en suit.

“I don’t like this,” he mouthed to himself.

Some sense came back to the old man, bringing him to pull out his Pokégear from a satchel. He went straight for the radio functionality.

“And I swear,” the Director of the Radio Tower babbled, “I told her that— I— wait, I— I— no, I . . . ah! Breaking news! Miss Kotone has turned the game back on! Yep! According to our preliminary scans, she’s stock-still, possibly waiting for the perfect opportunity to grace us with her presence! I cannot wait! What about you? We’re taking calls right now, folks, so phone in with your thoughts!”

There was something in the Director’s voice that commanded attention, even when he yammered with a druglike intensity. Whether it was a nuance of programming or not, it was beyond the point. It had lost the magic from years ago.

“Sounds worse every day,” the old man mumbled.

The world seemed to sputter; the clouds jittered back and forth, then resumed their rolling boil. The world wasn’t quite sure what to think of being woken up after such a long nap. But the world kept watching. And, of course, the Slowpoke still hadn’t noticed a thing.

Something just seemed wrong, however.

This type of good sensibility had wrangled the Gentleman into submission. The hairs on the back of his neck were itching to stand at attention. There was something new in the air. We should leave, he thought. He grabbed the old man’s arm, anticipating a Teleport out of there. But, to his surprise, absolutely nothing happened.

Why, you ask? Well, the Gentleman wasn’t wrong. But did he have any business telling the old man what to do?

His eyes narrowed at the incoming dismissal on the old man’s lips. “I swear,” he cut in, “if you think—”

A bloodcurdling scream split their conversation in two.

That complicated things a bit. The pet Slowpoke, jostled by the Gentleman’s violent flinch, caught the old man’s eye. A deeply-concerned expression had crept up onto its face. It watched the distant beachfront with an uncanny understanding. The old man followed its line of sight. The Gentleman noticed their stares and followed their gazes, but failed to see anything. His vision wasn’t as sharp as the old man’s.

“What’re you looking at? I don’t see anything.”

Flickers of violent light in the cloud bellies lit up the creature. It was about thirty-feet tall and half-way phased up through the ground. It was serpentine, yet wormy. The wet whites of its eyes flashed for a moment, drawing the old man’s eyes down its line of sight. There was something wriggling in its arms, the old man realized, as the light vanished.

“Hello-o? What can you see?” the Gentleman whispered. He squinted to no avail. “It’s too—”

“Hush.”

The Slowpoke squirmed in his arms, making tiny squeaks. The Gentleman put a hand on its scruff, hushing it. The peach fuzz stood up through his fingers. The old man glanced at it, then returned to the thing in the creature’s arms. The wailing and flailing and whatnot kept getting worse. Something was going to happen.

“I still don’t see anything,” the Gentleman reiterated, annoyed at being dismissed.

More lightning this time. The creature leaned in closer, opening its mouth. The old man, still barely able to see, figured it was trying to eat the squirming thing it caught. More screams ensued, until an unmistakably shrill, female scream yanked him out of the trance. There was a human in its feelers, and she was making all the screams.

The little old man gasped. He turned to the Slowpoke and yelped out a single command.

A SPLIT-SECOND LATER​

A well-timed Teleport had intervened by then.

The world slammed back into place. A light drizzle was falling in the clean air. Thunder rumbled at a safe volume in the distance. Of course, the peaceful little scenery was shattered by Kotone, who was caught mid-scream. She landed face-first in soggy ground. She harvested her face from the dirt and looked up, meeting the eyes of two old men and a pink four-legged thing. The humans were wincing from her banshee-tier theatricals. They mentally dropped their plans of going home for the night.

She froze for a second, then scrabbled backwards. The blood came rushing back to her face, pooling up in her cheeks with an unnatural flush. “Don’t hurt me,” she rasped in English.

The older man looked confused at the nonsense coming out of her mouth.

The Gentleman put a hand over his mouth. “Ma’am? Are you okay?” he asked in Japanese. The pink creature in the crook of his arm smiled vacantly. Glimmers of Psychic energy rippled the air around it, distorting the path of falling raindrops into unnatural arcs. His programming kicked in by then; he put the pink creature down, then squatted to her level.

She just stared at him. Her brain was too shell-shocked for much of a conversation at that point, but these men seemed genuinely concerned for her safety. Her face crumpled with a sob. “Please,” she whimpered in Japanese, her face crumpling around the word, “don’t let that monster eat me. I’m— I’m gonna—”

“Ma’am, you’ve got to get out of this rain,” the Gentleman interjected.

“But it’s gonna—”

“You’re shaking.”

Kotone took deep breaths, now staring at the old man’s face. It’s all a dream, she thought. It’s all a dream . . . you’re gonna wake up on that nasty sofa again and then you’re gonna . . . gonna . . .

“Are you okay?” the older-looking one asked. At that point, the squishy creature standing by his ankles winced from Kotone’s previous screams.

. . . Gonna what?

She couldn’t stop thinking about the eyes of that monster. It wasn’t a silly little Pokémon. It was something more. Kotone started shaking. She swallowed at the lump in her throat. “I, I—” she sputtered, then broke down into sobs, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, I’m gonna die— I’m gonna die—”

“No, you’re not,” the old man reassured her. “Shh. Listen to my friend. You gotta get outta this rain first, young lady.”

The Gentleman smiled a perfectly-programmed smile. “You’re safe with us, ma’am.”

He fished around an interior coat pocket and produced a handkerchief. He wordlessly offered the cloth as his pale blue eyes analyzed Kotone’s entire face.

At the sight of such an offering, the tears re-surged. Kotone lifted herself up and wrapped her arms around him, burying her muddy face in the man’s chest. He stiffened in surprise and awkwardly patted her shoulder. The man wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this much affection. Noting the encroaching stains in his dress coat, he sighed.

“. . . I’m Melvin,” he said, still mystified at what was happening. “Who are you?”

All she could do at the moment was weep into his overcoat. Her shudders rocked them both.

“Ah, well, my friend and I here,” he paused to gesture at the perpetually-grumpy man, “were headed back to Azalea Town. Do you live there too? Do you want us to walk to back home? Where are you from?”

Kotone didn’t want to respond. She stared at the soggy grassland with half of her face buried in Melvin’s overcoat.

“Canada,” she mumbled. Kotone topped everything off with a garbled sob.

Melvin, with a raised eyebrow, turned to the old man. “Cana-wha? Isn’t that a Cerulean suburb? Why’s she all the way out here?”

“Honestly,” the old man muttered while rubbing his eyes, “I reckon she’s the victim of a cruel prank; y’know, someone used a nasty move on her and put her in a fugue state—”

“Stop talking,” she rasped. She sniveled a bit, coughing from her scream-wracked throat. “The monster will hear us.”

They didn’t have much of a response to that kind of statement. Kotone pulled away from Melvin and stared back at them.

“Monster?” the old man echoed. “Are you talkin’ about those all Gyarados way out there?” he said, tossing a hand at the choppy ocean. “They’re not gonna hurt you.”

The old man looked off, away from the two humans, all the way back toward the oceanfront. The dark shape was panicking, flinging its head back and forth and scouring the beach. A distant hissing emanated from the area. He squinted harder, just as it decided to dive off into the ocean. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure if he imagined it or not.

He turned back to the maniac. “There’s, uh, no such thing as monsters, ma’am.”

He’d lost a great deal of belief in that statement and, unfortunately, it showed.

“Do you have any idea what you just rescued me from?” she gasped. She prepared to lecture these two men, then backpedaled. “Hold on— do you have any idea who I am?”

Neither man seemed to have an answer.

“I am the protagonist,” she declared. She strained against the Gentleman’s not-so-gentle grasp, eyes wide and bloodshot, nodding up and down with an intensity that made the old man take a step back. “I’m Kotone Iwamatsu and I am your owner.”

Silence.

“And I’ll do anything to get out of here,” she continued on through the incoming hyperventilation. Her throat was terribly raw from all the screaming. “Just get me as far away from that thing as possible,” she reiterated, pointing in the opposite direction of the ocean.

Another silence followed en suit.

“Ma’am, we don’t have any monsters. Okay? I mean, we got a bunch’a Pokémon out here past the Ilex Forest, though,” the old man said in an attempt to reassure her. His small eyes scrutinized her beneath prominent eyebrows. “You okay?”

Kotone didn’t even know where to start. “I —no, I am not okay— have been sucked inside a video game.” She wiped some tears away. These men were being so dismissive. Her mouth flattened into a firm line. “Were you even listening earlier? Do you have any idea who I am?”

Melvin held up his hands helplessly; the old man raised his eyebrows. He fiddled with the Pokégear in his palm, then brought it up to her face.

“Look, lady, that’s Miss Kotone’s resting place,” he declared, holding a finger on the tiny screen, all the way over in Kanto. A pixellated representation of her avatar blinked repeatedly. “You,” he continued and pulled the wrinkly finger over to the west, deep into Johto, “are here with us. Which brings my next question: what’s going on?”

Kotone made an exasperated noise. “But I— I really am the protagonist,” she whispered, so stunned that tears welled up. She put her hands on her chest. “I swear on it. I’m your Kotone. Kotone Iwamatsu. I’m the protagonist.”

The old man’s face twisted up; but not with pity. “Uh, I really hate to tell you this, but . . . no. You’re not. She’s been standing on that random Kanto Route for the past ten years.”

The real Kotone couldn’t help it; tears fell down her cheeks during her silence. She felt her legs give way and found herself waist-deep in wet grass. A rattled breath left her mouth. “That’s . . . not fair,” she mumbled as more tears dribbled down. “That’s not fair.”

Unbelievable.

Melvin bent down, putting his hands on her shoulders. “We’re going to help you,” he said with surprising sternness. “Please stay calm.” His expression softened. “I want you to take a deep breath. Okay?”

Kotone had enough medical expertise to believe him. She sucked in a rattled gulp of air.

“Now, please tell me: are you okay?” Melvin asked as the older man looked on. “This isn’t normal, you know. Did someone hurt you? Do we need to take you to the Pokémon Center?”

Her eyes were glazed over with shock. “I . . . I know you’re not gonna believe me, but . . . I— I’ve just been sucked into this video game by a gigantic monster and I don’t know how to get out. I don’t belong here.” Kotone sniffled and tried to hold back her sobs. “And you don’t even believe me,” she wailed at last. She put a hand over her eyes.

“Ma’am, please, don’t cry again,” Melvin said, helping her up. Her wobbly footsteps gained some degree of traction on the mud. He began easing her along the dirt road. He walked the two of them perfectly parallel to a set of maglev tracks that ran all the way from one horizon to the next.

Kotone could do nothing but oblige.

“Let’s get somewhere dry. We’ll help you get back home. I’m sure you live close by.”

The old men walked a stunned Kotone toward a distant Magnet Train stop, which looked more like a modestly-built bus stop than anything. The sprinkle of raindrops perforated their silence. The pink creature was happily seated in the old man’s set of geriatric arms.

“Hey, listen, you’re gonna be okay,” the older man eventually declared, slapping a gruff pat on her back. Kotone stumbled, her tennis shoes sliding on the mud, and nearly face-planted into the ground. The only thing stopping her was the grip on Melvin’s coat sleeve.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” was all the old man offered.

Kotone glared daggers through him. However, the pink, squishy creature in the crook of his arm caught her attention again. Its eyes watched her every move with a slight delay. The dopey, toothless smile on its face grew.

Is that really . . . a Pokémon?

The faint moonlight highlighted its features, kickstarting her memory. A Slowpoke was staring into her eyes. A Slowpoke, for crying out loud, that didn’t even exist! A Pokémon! It was nothing more than flashing pixels on a game screen!

“No way,” she whispered.

The older man noticed Kotone’s staring. “Name’s Dasher. He’s my pet for teleportation purposes.” His face scrunched up in confusion at her reverence. “I guess, uh, you’ve never seen a Slowpoke before?”

Kotone was too stunned to even shake her head. Whatever voodoo that monster had done behind the scenes had worked. This was real.

After a few minutes of walking, the three of them were both seated and crammed into a small bench, huddled beneath the thin roofing of the Magnet Train stop. They were far away enough from the ocean that the downpour was reduced to a fine mist. Melvin assured Kotone that the Magnet Train would arrive on time and take her far, far away from this place.

Kotone gave the entire situation a bit of thought, now that she could think semi-rationally.

If she ever managed to escape this video game, the doctors would likely label her a schizophrenic. Definitely delusional, at least. She pressed her fingers into her eye-sockets, trying not to moan.

Imagine all the therapy they’ll put you through.

Not only that, the cost of all the therapy was spinning through her mind. Kotone would get shunted through the healthcare system and lose her opportunity to become a doctor. No one would want to associate with her ever again: it was effectively professional suicide— ha! All of a sudden, being spirited away from all her problems wasn’t quite as bad. The pressure on her eyelids lessened; but Kotone was far from content. She hesitated. Internally, she was dying to convince these men that she was the real deal— and, that a dangerous and unstable monster was behind all of it. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You know,” she began slowly, aiming her words at the old man’s crusty ears. “That thing I saw . . . wasn’t a Pokém—”

Naturally, the old man scoffed at her claim. “As I’ve been tellin’ you,” he grumbled, “the nastiest thing you’ll run into ‘round here is a Gyarados.” He leaned back into the seat and expelled a huge breath.

“But—”

“Just calm down. There’s no such thing as monsters, okay?”

The old man had a reason for being so crochety. There was only one organization that could help this weirdo, and the old man wasn’t keen on getting them involved. The girl didn’t know it, but she’d gotten herself tangled up in one helluva mess; the old man didn’t know it, but she couldn’t have picked a worse way to get sucked into a video game.

The man’s eyes were trained on the watery horizon. Kotone averted her eyes.

Now only partially resigned to her fate, she had just enough energy to curl up against the glass paneling. The panicked flush began to exit her face through her cheek, all pressed up against the glass; there was nothing left of the great Kotone Iwamatsu but a mass of diluted cold sweats. All she could do was whisper beneath the constant pitter-patter of rain. Her pleas, swerving between English and Japanese, with a touch of French every now and then, begged the monster not to find her.

This was all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

MEANWHILE​

She had literally, literally slipped from its feelers. The monster was ready to kill somebody.

Her scent, intermingled with the rain, had simply vanished. In a fit of accusatory rage, the monster had gone after the nearby Gyarados, thinking they had a part in Kotone’s disappearance. Some of them had been bleeding from their arguments. The monster followed their scent far out into the sea. The monster sprung up from the depths and, like lightning, bent over them in a flash. The wake from such a movement spilled over the colony and spun numerous Magikarp around in its leftover vortices. The monster, more liquid than solid, sprouted a couple of thin legs.

“How dare you?” it spat.

Dumb with terror, all the Gyarados and Magikarp could do was stare back at that thing. It had burning eyes and a serpentine body like theirs, but resembled nothing from their world. It wasn’t a Pokémon. It couldn’t be a Pokémon. Right?

“Where is she? What did you do with her?”

Silence.

The shapeshifter muttered and hissed, suddenly dribbling multicolored saliva from its mouth. Except it wasn’t saliva. It was some kind of corrosive fluid that glittered with all the colors of the rainbow. It looked like fizzling static contained in a liquid. It spattered onto the water with a hiss. The monster was so angry that it didn’t even notice.

“Give the human back to me, and no one gets hurt.”

It sprouted a razor-sharp feeler and whipped it back, threatening to slice a Gyarados in half.

“Which one of you used Teleport?”

But the monster, in a moment of clarity, paused. It realized there was no way these Gyarados could have taken Kotone away. They had no teleportation abilities. They weren’t even that hostile. The monster’s eyes doubled in size. Then they rolled down, discovering the mess it had made. The monster blinked, clearly for emphasis more than anything. The hissing cut off. It actually seemed to fear the glittering liquid.

The shapeshifter produced several more sets of limbs. They cut into the water as if it was a solid, scraping away all the liquid it could find. It had powers like that of a Ghost-type Pokémon: it phased through the elements without making a single ripple in the water. It thoughtlessly bent the game’s laws of physics.

The Gyarados had never seen anything like it.

The monster’s eyes were wide with panic. It knew it was wasting precious time. It reabsorbed as much fluid as it could. Seemingly satisfied after a few moments, it scanned the land and turned around, preparing to dive into the ocean. The Gyarados watched it mutter to itself, then look back at them. It froze upon realizing that it had offended the Gyarados. This was a major breach of etiquette.

One of the meatier Gyarados —the disciplinarian’s mate— hissed at it. That was a bad move.

The monster displayed a mouth of countless, haphazardly-placed fangs and let off a shriek ten times louder. “Just stay out of this,” it hissed at their taut, terrified faces.

The matriarch knew she had to do something. She floated closer, opening her mouth. The shapeshifter’s face lit up from the emerging Hyper Beam in her throat. She faltered for a second at the monster’s gruesome appearance and endless throat. The beam of blistering energy exploded out and torched the side of its face. Other Gyarados, emboldened by their leader, joined in with a rain of Thunderbolt and even Thunder. The world lit up in deafening white.

Boom.

Under most circumstances, such a savage blitzkrieg would cripple another Gyarados. As the light faded, they realized the monster was still floating there with murder in its eyes. Its skin was already blackened beyond recognition.

“All I keep asking of you,” it reiterated with a snarl, “is to stay out of this.”

Without a single splash, it rapidly descended into the ocean depths and vanished.

The Gyarados were unusually still. None of them knew what to say. This was something so, so far beyond their control. They held a moment of silence for the human. Humans were squishy and very overconfident; smart, but . . . not smart enough to survive something like that. The matriarch scanned the shoreline, knowing they could do nothing for the innocent little human. But when she looked at the water in front of her, she realized that the monster had missed a few droplets.

The glittery fluid shone of its own accord, sizzling and eating at the water itself.

​

Spoiler: FUN FACT

Welp, I hope you weren't yearning for Kotone to get whisked into the sunset by a handsome man. This ain't that kind of fic. Also, I added the subtitle "The Monster of Goldenrod" to the fic because I'm a sucker for subtitles. I also spaced out the Unown's dialogue because that seemed more realistic. Special thanks to @AetherX for making sure I clarified all the worldbuilding details of this weird-ass story. EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS to all the reviewers who've helped me improve this chapter!

 

[Arkadelphiak]

Bruh, this chapter has been spiffed up a lot. It's been simplified from its original version, just so we can get to the real meat of the story faster. Enjoy!

Spoiler: R E S P O N S E S

This makes the writing a little choppy, perhaps just a '*' or 'x' would serve well enough here to cut up the sections of the stories.

Oooh, I'm afraid those have to stay. I like them because of the cinematic cuts. D':

I like the way you've written the attacks like this, it fits the style and it's not something I've seen in other fanfics before.

Thanks! It's meant to enhance that video game flavor, as you said. That font will always signify something related to the video game.

Does the monster have the power to create things inside the game?
Perhaps the monster could bring back a copy of the glasses, although since these glasses belong to the game, it's kind of Kontone's first 'part' of herself that belongs to this game, and not to the real world.

I can't answer that quite yet (because I'm honestly not sure if it has that ability), but we'll get an answer soon-ish. ;D

What an arsehole this guy is!

This is just the beginning!

Or perhaps she never gets her glasses back? As then, she'll always have something that she shares with the monster, making her similar to it, whether she wants to or not.

DING DING DING

A small mystery helps to add to the creepy-factor of the tale. I actually really like this idea, since Pokemon is a game without blood, so it wouldn't have a need to program any in, making the blood 'blank' white data.

That's part of the rationale, but yet again, I can't say TOO much yet. You're in spoiler territory.

5 times? That's quite a few, will we learn about any of the kids that have done this? Seems like it could make an interesting sub-plot.

DING DING DING

Hmmm, that's too long to fit in the little boxes they give you.
I actually like the idea of the names for Pokemon (owned) being in ALL CAPS like the original gen 4 and only having names as long as the boxes that fit in them. It's not necessary but might add more of the video game flavor.

This will come up soon!

Nice to see the Unown of this universe are well versed in the intricate details of current internet culture.

You're in spoiler territory, yo!

Time for my half of the review exchange. All I can say in preparation is that I came here to chew gum and nitpick, and I'm all out of gum.

There isn't a lot to nitpick - nothing small, at least. I liked the tone of the first chapter in introducing Kotone and laying some of her character and situation before diving in. In the future, it would be interesting to know more about her past and where she came from. We jump right into the story just as she jumps right into the game, which makes sense, but she is a bit of an enigma at the moment. It's an interesting contrast when we know little about her but she feels she has been stripped of her identity: going to make for some great character stuff if handled well.

The squabbling Gyarados' was a highlight and a nice touch, shows that you have put some real thought into the world and the Pokemon writing up their characters like that. I also liked the dumb smiles on both of the Slowpoke's faces - little touches like that really make a great world. And I liked Kurt and Mervin - possible gay couple, or am I reading into it? At any rate, I liked them and hope to see more of them.

I got confused during the initial teleportation. It seemed as though Kotone had been teleported away a great distance, but only a few metres or so, but then why was she teleported in the first place? I was just a tad confuddled there, but might just be me. Similarly, the 'purple flash' around the door when it opened I didn't know what that was meant to mean.

The Monster is interesting, and a nice touch on the glitch Pokemon idea, as were the references to GameKotone standing in one place for years and the flat world of layers. The worldbuilding side of this is just beginning but currently very promising. My one concern is the references to the fact the characters know they are in a game. I feel like that can open up a lot of issues around why they bother doing anything then, so I hope that that matter gets addressed further on in the story.

Favourite part was obviously the Unown - the second chapter was largely kind of bleak, so it was good to have some humour come in at the end.

Overall it's intriguing and you've set up a good mystery. My main advice/recommendation would be not to rush too far into things and have her acclimatise to the world - Kotone already going on a quest thing might be a bit much - and address her character and some of the wider issues of being in an electronic world. It's going well so far though, so looking forward to seeing what comes next!

Yaaay, Aceroni, thanks for your review. I'm aware that my pace might be too fast. Luckily, things slow down around Chapter IV and beyond, then speed up again around the end of Part I. As for Kotone's identity, it's going to be interesting. She'll end up discovering things about herself alongside the readers, so we'll have to see where that goes. This game is going to break her, yo.

Also, I originally wrote Melvin as more of a housekeeper figure (and an easy segue to introducing Trainer Classes), but I really like the idea of Kurt/Melvin being "more than friends." I SHIP IT!!!

Well, much like last time I'm not going to go into the full review format so much as tidy up my notes. The first thing to note is that the chapter rather proves you can have a mysterious plot without making the narrative actively feel like work to follow. It's kinda cinematic with the Courier New stage directions snapping out some basic exposition - I suppose the viewpoint being focused quite tightly on something's brain is reminiscent of that kind of storytelling as well.

The Unown was one of those moments that made me wish I'd thought of it myself. It's the sort of thing I ought to expect from the likes of you or kintsugi.

Sciency bits, as a pretty much irrelevant comment I find Neil DeGrasse Tyson distinctly obnoxious but I suppose that little snippet is thematically appropriate for the chapter. This:

Just makes me snigger and think "No you ain't", but given how most of the usual rules no longer apply for Miss Kotone I think she can be forgiven a little exaggeration.

Which brings me to how I like that she's trying to actively figure out what rules this world works by. I've read a couple of stories with a similar premise, and invariably the protagonist bumbles around saying "huh?" till the author gets bored - they never seem to actively think and try to work it out for themselves.

The story, funnily enough, actually plays out like a fairy tale. The video game world might as well be Faerie, the Perilous Realm as Tolkien called it in On Fairy Stories. The rules are all different and nobody will tell you what they are. It's not fair, but fair doesn't mean anything in Faerie. You kissed the Elven Queen, you're here for seven years, bud

You know, I think you have an excellent point there. This story really does play out like a fairytale. Alert me if it ever deviates from that format, because that might be interesting to watch. And the Unown will be back soon. They're one of my favorite characters! I have some damn clever ideas in this story, so please tell me if you like any.

Okay, I haven't read all of the reviews that came before me but I'm pretty sure everything I'm about to say is something you've pretty much heard already so bear with me here I guess.

Starting off with the first half, I also have to agree that your first half feels a little disjointed. It feels like everything is going way too fast and the narration can barely keep up, there's much description in this part, which is fine since all of the events going around Kotone are happening fast, but it makes it hard for me to connect with her. Short and snappy description is fine, but it leaves a lot to be desire when it comes to relating to the characters, and while you manage to make Kotone's situatin stand out pretty well it does kind of feel...dry, like they're just going through the motions.

Something else that feels disjointed is that. It was hard to tell what had happened in that moment, like we figured Kotone had been teleported but we didn't know who had done it (or where that person came from) and we didn't really know if the monster was still there or not. I know that you wanted to keep Kurt's presence a secret and all, but letting us know a bit more about what's going to happen will help set everything up, here I feel like you didn't really give us a hint of what was going to happen...it just did.

I think it could be fixed if you take some time to describe everything more. It's true that it'll make the chapter longer and probably won't come off quite as quick witted and quirky as you prefer (since that's your style) but it'll at least help make the sequence of events easier to follow if you pace it out a bit more.

That's another thing. Kotone's personality switches a little too fast sometimes in this chapter. I know you want to show the full range of her emotions (that she's a coward but she's also really proud and kind of an arrogant prude), but it just makes it inconsistent when you're character is freaking out about a giant snake and then suddenly switches to giving sass while her arm is bleeding white blood. My point is, she kind of composes herself a little quickly.

Wow, those Unown somehow keep up with pop culture even though the game has been turned off for ten years.

Anywaysy, now for what I think in general terms. I do like that Kotone is both accepting and also not accepting the situation. Like, she knows it's a game, she doesn't accept it as another world, but she knows she wont' get anywhere unless she tries to live with it. The other thing I liked was how you conveyed the whole thing with the snek. We can tell he's not really evil, but he is very misguided and naive, plus he seems to have a past with Kotone that we don't seem to know so far.

A lot has been said about the little world building, so I won't add to that aside from the fact that I think it's interesting. Again, you're going both ways with this in that you're definetily treating it as a game world but also giving it more space than in the actual game. Though I also wonder if the characters really know they're in a game and what that entails.

You've made a lot of good points. I do agree that the second chapter needs some polishing up to make it flow better. I have a tendency to speed through scenes that aren't supremely interesting. And DING DING DING, you're spot on about the snek.

This paragraph kind of breaks the flow and the tension of what's happening for me. I'm not sure mentioning her migraine is very important. The glasses seem to be somewhat important, but I'm not sure this was the best place to mention them.

Hmm, I see what you mean. I'll go back and fix that.

No, monster, no. TENTACLES do not equal JUST WANTING TO TALK.

W R O N G

Lmao, I can't. Can the Unown be main characters, please? Though I'm not sure what the monster means when he asks "why me?" to be honest.

The Unown will be back soon. They're shady/hilarious enough that I'm tempted to use them in an eventual one-shot.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

―Unknown


III

MAKE GOLDENROD CITY GREAT AGAIN​

​

This was all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

When it comes to children’s video games, there is always an overworld; this is the place where the omniscient player interacts with the game’s environment. This flat plane of pixels is where the magical player happens. In this unfortunate case, the continent of HeartGold was surrounded by seas to each corner, with the land of Kanto and Johto sitting in the middle. Water spilled past the edges before dissolving into a categorical nothingness.

But, as one knows, everything in the universe rests in a balancing act— there is no sense in arguing otherwise. If one is interested in debating this, an unfortunate stalemate will be reached. as the force of entropy is always prepared to ameliorate this silly humanitarian issue. Naturally, the only way to balance this out was with an underworld.
So, past that, past the literal edge of the world, was nothingness. And within that nothingness lived a monster.

The monster simmered below the plane of the flat world. As a matter of fact, the world was flat. It was a massive, yet arbitrarily thin, transparent plane that was nigh-unbreakable. Buildings, grasslands, oceans, people, Pokémon . . . everything sat on top of it. It was the only thing separating the world from the black nothingness all around it. The world’s simple design made travel very easy for the monster: all it had to do was float underneath, examine what was above it, then phase up through. It was too easy.

But it wasn’t moving right then. The previous events replayed endlessly in the monster’s mind. It glowered at the plane, trying to think. It had no idea where to start. Kotone could have gone anywhere, especially given the massive network of transportation systems in the area.

All that work, all that waiting . . . for nothing.

It hissed and hated itself even further. There was only one way to deal with this, and it involved a sizable depreciation of humility. You see, for some reason, the monster could perceive small amounts of radio transmissions. And there was only one living thing that purveyed radio waves: the Unown!

The monster, with the usual sigh, followed the silly, anorexic, breathless sensations of radio transmissions: anything from a faint light, to a humming, a click-clack, and endless crickle-crackle. It moped onward until it knew it was underneath the Ruins of Alph. An ethereal glow of low-frequency electromagnetic waves made the monster squint a little.

The monster shook its head, knowing it had a real headache in its future. It hated asking for help.

With a sigh, it phased up through the bedrock in the lowest floor of the Ruins of Alph. Its head grazed the ceiling. The monster crouched lower, feeling slightly confined in the small room. It examined the walls full of flat, stone eyes. The monster knew they were already watching. The Unown just liked to play games.

It sprouted a sharp feeler and dragged it down the dusty tiles, eliciting a shrill scraping sound.

The eyeball right underneath its feeler blinked. Countless eyes flew open as their stony camouflage melted away.

The atmosphere instantly cooled. The gaze of the many stared right on through the monster. Eight of the Unown immediately detached from the wall and swung into formation. A chorus of childlike voices chanted out of tune, growing in volume.

W H O T H E R E

The monster froze. It looked left and right, noticing the annoyed stares. The crypt lit up in a blinding rainbow of colors and shivered. Unown peeled off every conceivable flat surface and surrounded the monster. It offered a blank stare.

G T F O

They began to spin around it. The monster sighed. The air chilled further, growing a thin layer of ice crystals over the stone. The eye of each Unown inverted: the sclerae blackened and the pupils glowed white. The vault’s natural colors desaturated.

The Hidden Power attack seized the monster. The air around it twisted and deformed as the hivemind tried to spaghettify it out of existence. Their psychokinetic touch tore at the monster’s oily membrane, but was unable to penetrate or cause any damage. Still sighing, the monster shook the attack off, baring a mouth full of needlepoint teeth at them.

O H

The attack dissipated, including the ice crystals. The monster rolled its eyes. The Unown were neither creative nor careful when it came to games.

A Y Y Y Y Y Y Y

Their inverted eyes returned to normal.

G O O D T O F I N A L L Y M E E T Y O U

The monster sighed, staring right on through the cluster of spinning bodies. “Hello, there. I need your help, Unown. I . . . think I made a mistake.”

L O L W H Y

“Why?” it hissed, trying to make eye contact with one. “How can you even ask that? Stop asking questions. I have never meddled in your problems. All I am asking for is a small transmission. Consider us allies.”

M M K A Y

They weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity. They stared at the monster, analyzing it. The Unown had heard of this creature, in fact— it had quite the reputation. It was a phantom of mythical proportions, rumored to have inexplicable power. There had only been whisperings of a shadowy monster that lurked beneath the overworld. The Unown bid their time, trying to probe into its psyche. But it wasn’t very effective.

The monster’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

H M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M M

A melancholy expression spread over the monster’s face as it waited for them to finish attaching the remaining M Unown. This was so unnecessary.

M A Y B E

Their chaotic dance was actually carefully calculated. They spun through the air, sloping gently down, and zipped back into the ring . . . undulating and spinning out into helices and various concentric shapes. The monster found itself admiring them.

“Anyway,” it said, eyeing another pupil that darted off. “Can you do me a favor or not?”

The Unown slowed down. They became silent. A couple of the heavy-lidded ? and ! variety, drifting toward the back of the cluster, watched the monster carefully. They weren’t generous with the diacritical markings. A new word began to take shape.

M A Y B E ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

Punctuation? The monster was impressed. The Unown rapidly alphabetized themselves and froze, even as their pupils jiggled. The monster scanned the endless wall of Unown, surprised at how eager they were. Normally speaking, it took an arm and a leg to get their attention.

The monster stared them down, unmoved even when some of the Unown stared back. The black pupils on both sides glittered with something far beyond simple malice. These two entities, though their senses of humor were diametrically opposed, held a grudging mutual respect.

“As I was saying,” the monster reiterated, “there is someone out there I need to talk to. I just want you to broadcast a message. Nothing bad, nor difficult . . . something just in case.”

Some of the pupils fluttered, watching and waiting. Their Psychic persuasion wasn’t very effective on the monster.

The monster sighed. “In case someone decides to stop and listen to me,” it grumbled.

O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O H

The monster merely glared at the Unown’s unfortunate implication.

U G O T A S P E C I A L S O M E O N E ? ? ?

“. . . You would not understand.”

S U U U U U U R E

SEATED ON THE MAGNET TRAIN, HEADED NORTH​

The remainder of Kotone’s morning consisted of a panic attack. Dasher was curled up on her abdomen; she struggled to breathe against his deadweight. Kotone stared through the misting rains at the distant ocean. Fat, white tears spilled across the sides of her face. She sniffled every couple of minutes.

The whole time, a tinny intercom inside the Magnet Train talked the silence away.

“It’s really quite strange,” the man on the radio continued. “Our analysts aren’t sure why she’s been standing there for hours, sans moving. Miss Kotone has never done this before. Let’s just hope she plugged the electrical charger in, or we’ll have to wait another ten years for a visit. Ha!”

Her face pinched up in equal parts pain and frustration.

“Once again, this is the Director of the Radio Tower, emceeing our early bird special! I hope you’re having a de-elightful morning!”

This was all happening so fast. Melvin and the old man blathered about in the seats right behind her. For a couple of geezers, they made quite the racket; the occasional laugh or cough made Kotone flinch. This pattern repeated itself until she developed a constant shiver, accompanied by the mental picture of a gigantic serpent grinning over her. Wanting to teach her a lesson. She shut her eyes.

I don’t know who or what you are . . . but I know I don’t deserve this . . .

Kotone shuddered and jammed herself deeper in the seat. She rolled her head toward the window. She tried to gaze at the sky, but the faintest, diffused sunrise was orthogonal to her eyes. A blur of dark greens whizzed by. It took a few miles for the Magnet Train to get up to cruising speed. It shot past some sort of farm with a red roof and a picket fence; this suspended Kotone in a world of new feelings.

Must have been the Pokémon Day Care . . .

Seeing it in person made her frown. She vaguely recalled breeding massive numbers of Pokémon for a flawless one. It was pretty gross —in a biological sense, at least— since the offspring had to be bred with the parents . . . and so on. Of course, she eventually released them all in displeasure when they had less-than-perfect stats. Hacking was so much easier.

The reality of all her blatant Poké-eugenics was beginning to dawn on her. Surely, hacking in just one flawless Pokémon was favorable to breeding hundreds of legitimate ones and discarding them. Right?

Kotone bit her lip. Everything about this pained her in an unfamiliar manner. But what was it? Nostalgia?

Kotone slid down in the seat and curled up against the vibrating wall, with the occasional involuntary shiver. She kept herself calm by watching the incoming horizon. She was going to get as far away from that monster as possible. She was going to get out of here. She had to. And when she did, she was going straight to the press and raising hell. She was going to win a Nobel Prize for being the first human to get sucked into a video game. Then she’d auction off the toy to the highest bidder. It would make her unimaginably wealthy and famous. Then, researchers would pry apart this damned video game in hopes of discovering its secrets.

But that was the future, and sadly, it lacked a satisfaction guarantee.

The skyline of Goldenrod City did not merely appear from thin air; the horizon became the approaching skyline. The very first object to puncture it was spindly and silver, surprisingly. The unmistakable silhouette of the Goldenrod Radio Tower glittered over everything as skyscrapers began to pierce through. Each tower was programmed to a stern exactness, unrestricted by fickle human physics. The Magnet Train slid on past the sprawling suburbia, eventually decelerating as it hit the city delineation. Kotone watched as everything morphed from agrarian to metropolitan. The maglev headed toward a train station in the middle of the city. It took just a few seconds to vanish into the terminal‘s black mouth. Kotone found herself staring at her bleary-eyed reflection. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the tunnel lamps overlaid in the darkness; they looked like monstrous eyes blinking over and over again.

“We have arrived at Goldenrod! Goldenrod! The accent is on the “o”!”

Kotone looked over the headrests, raising her eyebrow at the stock-still conductor. She was surprised at the array of tools on his law enforcement gear, as opposed to a conducting uniform. The Policeman blinked a few times and came back to reality. He cleared his throat, leaning into the microphone at his control terminal. “Approximate arrival in Ever Grande Central Station: ten minutes. Thank you for using the Magnet Train.”

Kotone uncrossed her legs and stretched her muscles, trying not to disturb Dasher. Now was the time for action.

AFTER EXITING EVER GRANDE CENTRAL STATION​

The Director of the Radio Tower was something else. His signature building towered above the exit of Ever Grande Central Station, ready to dazzle tourists. Its robust body tapered upward ‘til it met the glassy observatory on top. It seemed to monitor the fickle metropolitan area, pumping out invisible streams of invaluable, electromagnetic entertainment.

Kotone could feel it in her amalgam fillings. The back of Kotone’s head was flat against her shoulders, stared down by the Goldenrod Radio Tower. A ripple of vertigo swam through her guts, wiggling out through her knees. Kotone took a couple of deep breaths. She might have been shorter than the average human, but Goldenrod City didn’t care. It dwarfed anything and everything. Kotone didn’t remember at the time, but she was inexplicably intertwined with it: she had defeated Team Rocket and rescued the Director of the Radio Tower.

Er, her avatar had done all that. She didn’t deserve that much credit.

She was trying to remember why it looked so familiar, when, of all people, Melvin brushed right past her, shouldering others out of his way.

“Huh? What’re you doing?”

You see, Melvin and the old man had forgotten to explain the concept of Trainer Classes to their disoriented guest. She spent a long time ogling the endless stream of Melvin-imposters as they flowed around her. But the game had a couple hundred Non-Player Characters, or NPCs. How were there so many people in this simple little game?

Kotone shook her head with a sigh and forced herself to keep walking. It was pointless to agonize over such mysteries if she wasn’t planning on staying in the damned game any longer. She, along with the real Melvin and the old man, exited the area and entered a street filled with golden light. And, naturally, angry political campaigners. She internally groaned at all the hecklers camping outside the station. She scanned the signpost next to her, which hung far above the bouncing political posters.

“Where do we go now, Melvin?”

He raised his eyebrows at the crowd. “Past all that, unfortunately.”

A huge, tricolored poster wiggled in front of her face. Kotone scowled at the holder and craned her neck around them both. Colorful papers littered the ground with cautioning smiles. They were all superimposed with the portrait of a plain man and various political statements.

Someone —possibly a Fisherman— handed Kotone a generic, tri-colored flier. The blue of the man’s hair, eyes, and finely pressed suit were superimposed on a red background, complete with beige highlights. Nowhere in the universe was safe from politics, it seemed.

Why Can’t Mayor Marigold Make Goldenrod City Great Again?

Kotone snorted and threw it into the nearest bin, not caring whether it was for recycling or not. It felt good to be so careless.

“Well, I’m glad you finally got your introduction to big-city politics,” Melvin scoffed. He had known her long enough to figure her out, and smirked to himself.

Kotone grumbled at him, adjusting her persona to the current scenario. She was far from a local, and, frankly, never intended to become one in the first place. “Look, Melvin, I’m no fan of politics,” she griped. “All I care about is biology. Just let me be a scientist in peace: that's my political stance.”

That brief mention of scientist stopped the old man, a few feet behind the two, dead in his tracks. Kotone and Melvin, grousing uninterrupted, continued walking past the small corner shops. An incredulous look unfurled from the old man’s brow to his chin.

“Uh, ma’am, did you just say that you're a Scientist, too?”

Kotone came to a halt, with Melvin following suit. The second-to-last thing she wanted —the first being another visit from that monster— was to have her authority questioned. She turned around, mildly affronted, and unfurled her equivalent look. “Uh, yeah. You might as well call me a scientist. I’ve got most of the education.”

“A Scientist?”

“Yep.” Her look dared him to question her any further. “A scientist.”

This was quite the plot twist. But the old man was far from convinced, and there was plenty of validity behind his skepticism. His face crumpled in deep thought. “You don’t look like one, though.”

“Excuse me?”

“All of the Scientists in the world are males, ma’am. You’re not makin’ any sense.”

Her mild affront graduated to moderate affront. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t stand there and patronize me, old man. I’ll have you know that I have over three hundred confirmed—”

“Melvin,” he suddenly said, turning to look up at his housekeeper and ignoring Kotone’s hiss of frustration. “I just remembered. You gotta go get my groceries. The market on fifth street will be opening any second and you’ve gotta scoop up all their Apricorns before anybody else does.”

This sudden diversion caught everyone off guard.

The old man's housekeeper seemed confused at the sudden request, but ultimately deferred. He raised his silvery, groomed eyebrows and pretended not to notice the sudden pretense. “Whatever you say. Do you remember the Pokémon Center’s address?”

“Yup.”

The eyebrows went higher. “Alrighty, then. You sure you can take her there by yourself—”

“I’m sorry, what? Do I look like some kinda Super Nerd?” the old man snapped. “I don’t let you mooch off me for your insolence. Go get my damn groceries. I’ll call you when I’ve dropped this girl off.”

Kotone’s previous bristling lessened in the presence of theirs. Her eyes slid between the two, analyzing their faces. The old man had a stare that could penetrate lead, whereas Melvin’s own could see right on through. She watched as Melvin was given a choice: to snap back or merely lower his eyebrows and proceed.

“That totally understandable,” he began, developing a fine hybrid of the two options. “I hope you both have a nice day— but,” he said, turning to Kotone, “mainly, I pray that you end up feeling better, ma’am.” The muscles in his crow’s feet twitched slightly as he turned to the houseowner. “And, with that, I guess I’ll see you later this afternoon . . . Kurt.”

Kotone froze, eyes widening.

A wicked smirk traveled up Melvin’s face. He spun around on one brown dress shoe and decidedly vanished into the crowd of people on the main street. It was uncanny, really. Within seconds, there were only two people left on the golden, concrete tiles. The newly-outed Kurt glared at Melvin’s disappearing silhouette. He tried to pull Kotone forward, but she was rigid with shock.

“Wait a minute, Kurt? You’re Kurt?”

He groaned audibly, knowing his morning had just been ruined.

But Kotone’s jaw was still making its way downward— naturally, nothing could stop it. “You? The guy who made me all those Balls? I don’t believe it.” She scanned him over, noting that he was far shorter than she expected. In a surprising turn of events, it was Kurt who dared to have his authority questioned; she recoiled at his raised eyebrow.

“What? You want my damn autograph or something?”

She blinked, flustered. “Uh, well . . . no, I— I mean . . . I was, uh, wondering what you got rid of Melvin for?”

There was a bubble of silence between them.

Kurt shifted his eyes away from her line of sight and a sigh followed en suit. “Listen, ma’am. I want to get you some help. You’ve been scaring me and Melvin with all these ramblings. We wanna get you an intake into to a Pokémon Center, but . . . we both know that’s not gonna help. If you really are a Scientist,” he said, rifling through his satchel, “then that makes everything a million times more complicated. I really gotta get you elsewhere. I know some people who’ll take better care of you. And, uh, I don’t want Melvin to see this.”

He finally whipped out his Pokégear and began texting with a single thumb. Kotone was surprised at how adept he was at it.

AFTER TRUSTING THE SPATIAL AWARENESS OF AN OLD MAN​

Kotone and Kurt had entered a section of Goldenrod City with a lower elevation. It was tucked inside the shadows of skyscrapers. Sunrise was hitting hard, but, alas, it was still very dark.

“Kurt,” she whispered at him. “I— I, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, but I don’t recognize anything. I think you took a wrong turn.” She hoped he hadn’t picked up on the underlying panic in her voice. She had been too proud to question his motives, and look where that brought her.

“I know where I’m going,” he exhaled.

The encroaching daybreak brought its own set of problems. For Kotone, every lamplight or sporadic flash on glass was the eye of that monster. She soon broke out into a cold sweat, knowing she’d need some serious therapy in the future. Kotone wiped at the sweat on the back of her neck, and after retracting her hand, noticed that it was a milky white. She could only shake her head in disbelief. She flicked it off her hand, eyeing some movement in a passing alleyway. A black-haired teenager was beating the absolute shit out of his Sentret.

I hope Kurt knows where he’s going . . .

There were almost no lights at this point. Kotone scanned the area, noticing the distant mouth of a cavernous concrete structure. She triangulated her position and realized the game didn’t do it justice. It was gargantuan. A line of metal lettering hung over the abyssal entrance.

THE GOLDENROD TUNNEL

Kotone shuddered. It was too easy to imagine a pair of glowing eyes over the building’s throat. She swallowed. “Hey, Kurt, l-look.” She got his attention and pointed at the sign. “I— I recognize this place. That means we’re basically—”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Something was watching them.

Her mind immediately went to monsters and razor-sharp teeth. Kotone spun around, discovering a man nearing them. He immediately stopped walking. From the limited vantage point, she watched a little smile creep onto his face. He beckoned them closer with a friendly wave. A sinking feeling bloomed in Kotone’s gut. He wasn’t a monster, sure, but that didn’t make her feel much better.

“Good morning,” the new man called across the boulevard, echoing about. He took their attention as a cue to walk out of the shadows. A streak of feeble morning light illuminated part of his stern face. “Is that you, Kurt? How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good, Charlie." Kurt couldn’t quite match the forced congeniality. "We were just lookin’ for you.”

“Yeah, I got your message a while ago.”

Kurt began to drag her toward the curb. Kotone gulped and sealed her mouth shut, hoping to stave off the inevitable conversation with this creep, but—

“Eeeeek!”

Kotone broke into a horrified scream at the grin full of fangs that plummeted to eye-level. To her immense shock, a Golbat was now flapping right in front of her face. It leaned in far too close, forcing her to stumble back. The massive bat chirruped in amusement.

“This thing’s friendly, right?” she croaked. Her eyes darted between Charlie and Kurt.

Charlie wiped some of his strangely stiff hair behind an ear. He scrutinized her with a deeper frown, then shrugged. “He’s a sweetheart.” He gestured to the Pokémon. “I named him Feiruz. Kurt calls him Bat Man for some reason.”

“Bat . . . Man?”

“Mhmm.”

Kotone didn’t have much of a response. She shook her head and held up her hands, wriggling her constrained wrist away from Kurt, all fear funneled into exasperation. “Look, who are you? What d’you want with me?”

Silence.

The new man stuck out a hand. He grinned. “I’m Charlie, ma’am, like our friend here said. And don’t act so scared, okay? I just wanna talk to you about a coupl’a things, nothin’ too crazy.” He paused for a few moments, awaiting her hand. The frown reappeared like clockwork.

“You’re supposed to shake his hand,” Kurt hinted after a few unprofessional seconds.

Charlie was puzzled at her dismissal; this was a serious transgression of Goldenrod social codes. Of course, they had no way of knowing that they weren’t dealing with a local. “Uh, hello? You are that weirdo tryin’ to trick Kurt into thinking you’re a Scientist, right?”

Kotone gritted her teeth. “I am a scientist.”

Silence.

Feiruz, eager to make a new human friend, used the quiet time to let off a happy screech and begin the short flap toward Kotone. He stuck the landing, then waddled up to her and purred against her jean-clad leg.

Kurt bent down to pat his head, but retracted at the temperamental hiss. “Don’t hiss at me, asshole,” he snapped. He crossed his arms. “Don’t you remember I bought you a Haircut last week? Aren’t you supposed to be friendlier or something?”

Feiruz, possibly acknowledging the previous acts of kindness, brought it down to a growl. Kotone was not sure what to make of their relationship.

Charlie put his hands on his hips and grinned at Feiruz. A long black coat and hat made him nigh-invisible in the dawn. Kotone’s suspicions were running high, however. She remembered that there was an unsavory type of Pokémon Trainer which was infamous for utilizing the Zubat family, one commonly based in Goldenrod City . . .

Her eyes narrowed. She frowned at Charlie, then at Kurt, then back to Charlie again. Her teeth were suddenly bared. “Hey, asshole,” she hissed at her new friend, “do you work for Team Rocket or something?”

Charlie blinked and held his tongue.

This level of innocence was enough for her to re-evaluate the situation.

“Okay, listen up, Kurt,” she snapped, turning to him, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but do you really expect me to work for fuckin’ Team Rocket? I’m not gonna cut off Slowpoketails,” she paused to gag on the programmed article, “and rob banks, or whatever.”

Charlie’s expression went glum. “Oh boy, we’ve got an independent thinker here.”

Kurt just stared at her, then to Charlie.

“Mmkay,” Charlie droned. “Lemme fast-forward this proposition for you.” He pulled a business card from some inner breast pocket and held out the rectangle’s back. The red letters glimmered with the natural tremor of his hand.

THE RHODODENDRON INSTITUTE

Kotone raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She’d finally found the hill to die on. “Oh, come on. Look at that name. Just admit that you work for Team Rocket already.”

More silence. Feiruz chirruped and scooted closer to Charlie’s leg.

She set her elbow on her forearm and put a cheek into her palm, sighing. “Ugh. Sorry. I just . . . I never wanted any of this, okay?” Kotone mumbled. She looked to each man in turn, holding her hands out in deference. “Nobody knows I’m the real Kotone. Nobody believes me. And that makes everything so much harder.”

Charlie held up a warning finger at the mention of her name. “Man, you’re disrespectful.”

Kotone clenched her hands at her sides, trying not to shake with rage.

He wrinkled up his face, forcing a smile. “Let me be clear: you’re not Miss Kotone. There is literally no fucking way for that to be possible. Firstly, this is a silly little video game. Any fool could figure it out. Seriously. Secondly, any self-respecting—”

Kotone threw up her hands and groaned. “Look,” she spat. “Gimme a break! I don’t want any of this! Okay? I don’t wanna go on a journey or save the world. All I wanna do is leave,” she strained, voice cracking at the end.

He shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. If you help us out —y’know, answer a few questions, this and that— then we’ll at least get you some proper medical care.”

“I don’t want medical care,” she spat. “I want to leave.”

“Whatever. Just, let’s simplify this whole mess down and think of it as a trade: if you help us, then we’ll help you. We can surely work out something. Y’know, in the vein of mutual benefits. Let’s just consider it done and get a move-on.”

That was almost too easy.

“Hey, hey. Slow down. I haven’t agreed to anything.” Her eyes reduced to slits. “Can you people get me out of this video game?” she asked slowly, staring him and Kurt down. “I won’t do a damn thing unless you promise.”

Everyone ended up glaring at each other in mutual distaste. The question remained, well, in question.

Feiruz, now incredibly bored with their rapid-fire Japanese, sniffed out an old Soda Pop bottle and wandered off in search of its transparent, amorphously crunchy texture. He had somewhat of an addiction to eating bottles for some reason. Charlie watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“Alrighty,” he declared, relaxing his shoulders. “I think my work here is done. So,” he began and turned to Kotone, his hands clasped in earnest. “It’s a deal? You’re gonna work with us, right?”

The air was silent again.

Kotone frowned. She really hadn’t thought this through. She racked her memory for Charlie’s face, hoping to catch him off guard, but found nothing. And even if she had, he’d have been a pixelated sprite. She couldn’t match a face like that.

An identical frown appeared on his face. “Hello-o? Johto to . . . whatever your name is.” He went in for the handshake. His hand waited, fingers separating further. “It’s a deal, right?”

Kotone’s eyes flicked from his hand to his face. She just glared.

“Y’know,” Charlie said, shrugging, “we won’t help you unless you help us. And I’m gonna give you one last chance to agree.” As he spoke, the frown aimed at Kotone deepened. “We need you. We really do. And,” he added with crossed arms, “you won’t get this chance again. So don’t fuck yourself over.”

You know you’re trapped, the world seemed to simper.

Saying no to these goons was effectively throwing away her first chance to escape. Her line of sight travelled to the tiny glints of wear-and-tear on the ground. She set her jaw, tearing up. It took a little while, but a cold clarity eventually washed over her. Kotone unclenched her jaw and stuck out her right hand. The non-existent, human nerves from far away prickled with anticipation. A feeble, defeated pout was all she could muster.

“I give up, okay? Okay? I’ll work with Team Rocket.”

“Oh?”

The smile that appeared on Charlie’s face was eerily reminiscent of Feiruz’s own. Kurt raised his eyebrows.

“I’d also like to add,” she sneered in English at his disgusting grin, right as he went in for the handshake, “that I fucking hate you.”

She drew up a fake smile, savoring the sensation of the totally-unnecessary insult. These fools had no idea what they were dealing with. But the sheer hate —and something else— in that throwaway sentence made Feiruz’s ears prick up. It was enough to yank his face away from the trash. The bottle between his teeth crunched in half. The men had no clue what she was saying but, alas, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She just had to make matters even worse.

“EEEEEEEEeeek!”

And then a volley of Confuse Ray hit the back of Kotone’s head.

Spoiler: FUN FACT

Now, things get INTERESTING! Special thanks to @diamondpearl876 and @Flaze and @Ghostsoul and @kintsugi for scanning bits and pieces of this chapter. A second thanks to Ghostsoul and Pavell for convincing me to shorten the chapter. EXTRA SPECIAL ULTRA THANKS to all the people who've given me reviews and helped me make these chapters better!

 

[Arkadelphiak]

Alrighty, THANKS YOU GUYS. I've done a loooot of condensing. So, I ameliorated Chapter II by putting in a gr8 scene with Melvin and Kurt. This makes me so happy, as I’d never been satisfied with the second and third chapters! I removed some of the more superfluous interactions in Goldenrod City, which will pop back up in Chapter VI (“Scientific Progress Goes ‘Crack’”), when Kotone is given a chance to explore the city. I also cleaned up the primary Kurt/Melvin interactions and fleshed them out even more. I’d recommend taking a look before we get any further— you never know what I might be hinting at.

Assuming all goes well with the new tweaks, the story should start humming along quite nicely. Things are gonna get INTERESTING. You've never seen a plot quite like this.

• Extended the conversation between Kotone and the monster (go read it for some major hints!)

• Kurt and Melvin are walking on toward Azalea Town, they hear screams, rescue Kotone, they are confused and genuinely concerned for her

• They get her away from the area and onto the Magnet Train so she can find some proper help in the big city

• Kotone admits to [basically] being a scientist, Kurt interprets this as her being a Scientist and oh boy does this complicate his life

• Kurt sends Melvin off for groceries to get him out of the picture

• Kurt leads Kotone to a shadier part of the city, meets up with "Charlie"

• Charlie introduces himself (and his pet Golbat, Feiruz) and kinda-forces her to work for his buddies

Aww yiss, now I'm going to comment on my own comment. Anyway, I've changed the things in bold from before. Good shite. If you read anything before 3/16/2018, I'd recommend reading again. But only if you want important information, my dudes. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Spoiler: R E S P O N S E

Interesting line that. I don't recall whether it was in the previous version, but I don't remember it. It strikes me as a subtle hint that this game world was never designed for a real human to turn up in it, which might be a good excuse for un-game like things to happen in it.

Yeah, that was actually in a previous version, but I felt that it needed a more dramatic position in the text. Keep it in mind.

Back to the meat of this. The chapter's been significantly rewritten from what I remember. It's more straightforward in the narrative and is so much better for it. I probably said something like this last time, but there's mystery and weirdness enough in the monster. Melvin and whatsisface - Kurt, I think - come across as rather more human this time round. I'm a firm believer that any kind of dark plot needs a warm heart to give it some meaning, and in this chapter at least, they fill that role.

I don't have any problems with the Monster/Kotone conversation. Last time round the Monster was a bit too irrational in its actions. At least in this version it doesn't really expect to get its own way by manifesting as an eldritch horror with a vaguely avuncular demeanour. I kind of like that the Monster seems to be aware, albeit slightly tangentially, that he's pulled a fast one here and appears to have been hoping that Kotone somehow wouldn't notice. And at least, it has to be said, Kotone has something actually intelligent to say in showing that she hasn't somehow managed to forget everything about Pokémon in relatively little time.

WOOOOOOOOO STRAIGHTFORWARD NARRATION

What, even the "scuds of semen-white flowers" bit? Bloody rowans. Smelling of either sex or death, depending on who you ask, and either way you can blame it on trimethylamine

Someone mentioned that in passing and it conjured a "WHAT" out of me. 10/10.

Not an awful lot to add when it comes to Chapter Three, though perhaps I might be allowed a moment to feel satisfied that getting less artsy and more prosaic has resulted in a much better chapter. It looks like what you're going for is a game world that seems to intrude on the everyday lives of the inhabitants. It's a bit like Wreck It Ralph in that regard. It ought to be pointed out, as well, that these edits make the world feel more like it is some kind of game world - the previous version was somewhat disconnected as I recall, tending to bump along from one scene to the next.

I sometimes wish I had a mind filled with less poetry and leaves and more atoms and wheels. There's no way I'd find a way to use "spaghettify" like that. I rather like how the Unown alone out of everything in this game don't seem too concerned about the Monster.

Honestly, I think there is a beautiful point to be made here. Sometimes I wish "ugh, why can't I make pretty prose like Pavell?" and yet, here you are lamenting about your own style. I think it's just a nice reminder that everyone should love what they've got, so-to-say.

Chapter I - Garbage In

Nice opening scene. Clean, flows well and introduces some humour so we know what to expect from the story, sets the tone for following material quite well and in classic pseudo-prologue fashion, gives a lot of hints without actually answering any of my questions so far.

Okay, we're leaning on the fourth wall with the narration. I can dig that.

Okay so I'm really digging the interactions between Kotone and the DS here. It walks the thin line between humour and uncanny valley, a fact mirrored by Kotone's attitude in the story itself as she vacillates between acceptance, absurdity and fear.

Overall, a good hook for a first chapter. Only two characters to speak of, but the dialogue keeps pace comfortably and doesn't let you rest - without being overwhelmingly chatty.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Honestly, Chapter I is basically perfect. It's laser-focused, like you said (or will say below).

Chapter II - First Impressions

. . .

I don't have much snarky or helpful to say about the rest of this chapter, honestly. That's not to say it's not worth commenting on, just that it was full of things that made me go 'hmm... we'll comment on that after we see how it unfolds'. Which is not really helpful, but there you go. I did like the sudden paradigm shift where it becomes apparent that the NPCs are also aware of their place in the universe, and the twist that there's two Kotones. I feel secure in presuming the 'other' Kotone has literally just standing where she left her avatar before putting the game down for the last time, which of course makes me really want to see what the situation is there. Is she frozen there as a child, has she continued to age, what's going on?

Ooh, said paradigm shift is very important. I added a new detail with Kurt holding up his Pokegear and being like "bruh, you're not her" to really seal it in. And I can't explain the stuff in bold yet! We've barely started, and it gets addressed later on. But I'm thrilled that you're already thinking about these things!

Chapter 3 - Make Goldenrod City Great Again

Sigh.

I know, man, I know.

I think I've seen this movie. It's kind of like Wreck-It Ralph, except Vanellope is an invincible thirty-foot tall monster that drools glitch-creating acid and Ralph is a med student with a migraine and okay it's nothing like Wreck-It Ralph.

10/10 WOULD WATCH THIS MOVIE
Wreck-It Ralph actually had a big influence on this, as you can tell. I remember watching it (after casting this original shitty edition fic aside) and thinking, This is perfect! This is exactly what I mean!

Okay shit I misread that as 'humanity' and I was like 'oh okay the solution to the problem here is genocide, that's fun'.

I wondered if someone would misread that, ayyyy.

Hang on, I thought other!Kotone had been standing there for ten years. Why is it now hours? It doesn't sound like her state has changed, so why is this news? Unless this is the radio signal the Underworld was trying to send, for some reason...

WHOOPS. He means that she's been sitting there with the game on for a few hours. I'll go back and fix that.

Okay, one or two other people have touched on it I think, but Chapter 3 still feels long. Being long isn't really a problem (I have no idea how it stacks up against 1+2 wordcount-wise), but feeling long is - and Chapter 3 feels long. It goes through so much with so many different characters and settings - the monster and the Gyarados, the monster and the Unown, Kotone and her benefactors, on the train, in Goldenrod, at the Radio Tower, then suddenly not at the Radio Tower... it feels a bit schizophrenic and I found myself constantly playing catch-up. The cracking pace is well and good as long as everything is kept tight, but I felt like this was where the plot threads started to unravel a bit, which took me dangerously close to losing my grasp of them entirely.

Noted! I went back and spruced up Chapter III and it's a LOT better. I'd recommend scanning it (and II) again, because they're looking much better!

The Unown are my favourite character so far. Between the text speak, the indecisiveness and the sass, they remind me of a teenage girl given Pokemon form, and that's brilliantly horrifying. Or horrifyingly brilliant, I can't decide.

A Y Y Y Y Y Y Y Y
Oh, yes. They're my favorite character to write-- and they play a biiiig role in this story. I've extended their conversation with Monster McMonsterface.

Kurt and Melvin, on the other hand... hmm. I can't put my finger on it, but something about these two doesn't seem right. I mean obviously pretty much everything in this universe is comically sinister in some way, and Kurt showed his hand by hooking her up with Team Rocket, but even beyond that I'm not quite buying their role in the fic somehow. I'm sorry there's not much more specific I can say here, but I feel they were included so Kotone could grab onto something friendly and then be shunted on to a new danger. Beside that, I'm just not sure they have anything to contribute. I didn't feel much personality from them, which is a shame since your main characters are so dynamic.

Fixed, and much appreciated!

I know one thing: that I know nothing.

―The Socratic Paradox


IV

NEW FRONTIERS​

“Goo-ood morning, Johto!

It’s going to be a gorgeously sunny day here in Goldenrod City, folks. We’ve gathered your latest news straight from the source.

That thunderstorm from last night moved inland and has almost entirely dissipated. It’s that time of year again, too: we’re tracking hordes of Magikarp and Gyarados as they migrate toward the warmer, centralized waters around the Whirl Islands. In the meantime, DJ Ben recommends the National Park if you’re interested in famous landmarks, more so than wildlife.

By the way, we’ve been dealing with a small interference on our networks. A rogue signal’s being emitted from the Ruins of Alph, undoubtedly from the Unown. In case you’re unaware, the Unown communicate using radio waves. These disturbances are completely natural, generally happening once or twice a month. But don’t you worry; it shouldn’t interfere with our prime time. We’ll look into it this afternoon.

This is the Director of the Radio Tower, signing off!”

MEANWHILE, AS TIME SEEMED TO FREEZE
​

Feiruz knew something that the rest of them didn’t. He knew this weird girl was special. Too special, in fact, to let her get away. Due to a misunderstanding on his behalf —the Golbat species isn’t renowned for their body language reading skills— he decided to use the one negotiating tactic he had. He had to interrupt the incoming handshake and its apparent farewell.

A set of glowing spheres came out of the Golbat’s great mouth.

They swam through the damp air, lighting up Kotone’s black hair with a ghostly halo. Before anyone could fix this atrocious breach of ethics, they slammed into the base of her head. Charlie, still mid-reach for the handshake, gasped as her pupils constricted. The pseudoscientist wobbled, then splayed herself all over the asphalt.

Crack.

“Holy shit,” Charlie breathed. He put a gloved hand over his mouth, speechless for once. “You did not.”

Goldenrod City held its breath for a few seconds.

Kurt hobbled over to Kotone, his frown taut with worry. He bent down to brush the hair away from her vacant eyes. Luckily, a small red barrette in Kotone’s hair had cracked, as opposed to her skull. That was a real boon— they genuinely needed to keep this raving lunatic alive.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond; her lips moved with angry nonsense.

Feiruz waddled over and started screeching near her face, as if he knew something. He then realized that the weirdo was positively out. Feiruz squealed, hopping on top of her back and crooning. He hadn’t meant to hit her with the attack— all he wanted was a minor distraction! A delay! Anything but this!

His owner was horrified. Charlie ripped him off the pseudoscientist’s chest, letting him teeter over the concrete. “Dammit, Feiruz!” he exploded, holding his hands out at her vacant expression. “We went over this! You can’t fuckin’ incapacitate new members anymore! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Eeeeek!”

The poor Golbat looked like he’d faint from guilt. He hadn’t meant to scramble her information that badly. Most people had been hit with Confuse Ray at least once in their lifetime.

“—because I,” Kotone slurred in English, jaw against the concrete, her right hand still outstretched, “I h-hope all’a you . . . d-die . . . di-ie . . .”

“Aaugh! How the fuck am I gonna explain this in my report?” he snapped, trying to maintain eye contact with his pet. But instead of sending echoes of his tirade any further across the cathedral alleyways of Goldenrod City, Charlie took in a sharp inhalation. He bent down and waved a hand in front of Kotone’s glazed eyes, which were parallel to the asphalt.

She didn’t register a thing.

“Aw, shit,” he groaned. “Look,” he grumbled, turning to Kurt, “let’s just pretend this never happened. She said yes at the first offer. Does that sound good to you?”

His partner-in-crime grunted something that could be interpreted as approval. Thus, Charlie squatted down and shook Kotone’s hand, dragging it back and forth across the concrete.

“Consider yourself hired.”

“I . . . wha— huh? You . . . you b-better n-not talk to me, you stupid little—”

“By the way, she’d better be worth all the trouble,” Charlie hissed up to Kurt, crossing an arm over his knees. He held a thumb up at Kotone; she strained to focus on it. “And guess what? You-know-who still isn’t convinced that she’s a Scientist. How many people run into a perfect little disguised Scientist in the middle of Route 34? Better yet, protagonist syndrome? How’d she fool you?”

He just glared back.

“—bitch!” Kotone finally screeched, rolling onto her side and gaining volume and clarity. “Yeah, bitch!” she screamed at the sky, before slumping back down into a prone position. “I hate all of you,” she slurred into the pavement.

Kurt’s eyes widened at the outburst. He paused, looking at the newest hire. Her listless stare and slack-jacked expression pained him. In a sense, he had turned the little firebrand into a drooling idiot. “Look,” he sighed, cringing at how deep he had gotten into this mess, “I know it seems too good to be true, but you’re missin’ the whole picture.”

“You know exactly why I’m suspicious, Kurt.”

“And we both know I’m not real good at lying,” he countered, turning to hold out his palms at Charlie. His eyebrows raised. “You don’t wanna work with me, and I su-u-ure as hell don’t wanna work with you. But I’m trying to tell you that this isn’t about your organization. Quit bein’ so damn shortsighted and listen to me for once. It’s about her. Something is wrong with her.”

Charlie’s face darkened. “What’re you talking about?”

Kurt let his hands fall to his sides. “She’s . . . uh, saying some things that don’t need to get out. Things that make no sense. Like being Miss Kotone, or getting sucked into here by a monster.” He shook his head, maintaining eye contact. “She’s right about one thing, though: seeing the monster. And I’m afraid I did, too.”

Charlie blew air out of his nostrils, exasperated. “Mmkay, y’all saw a big ol’ Gyarados? At night? You call that a—”

“I’m not playin’ around with you, boy.” Kurt, teeth snapped shut, leveled a dead-serious look at Charlie’s sneer. “She didn’t just see this damn thing,” he snapped. “I saved her ass from getting eaten. It was all coiled up around her with a snare on her ankle. And get this, you uppity piece of shit— they were talking to each other. I heard it speak. How’re you gonna explain that?”

Charlie’s expression paled just so.

Kurt considered mincing his next words. He rolled his head side to side, trying to not keep gritting his teeth. “Look, buddy, I don’t like any of this either,” he admitted. “But, heh, isn’t it weird how the game came back on for the first time in ten years, then here comes this screaming amnesiac claiming she’s the protagonist? And that monster finally shows up in the same location? Sure, it’s physically impossible, but why?” he finished, joining Charlie’s wary stare at their newest friend.

“Fair point,” Charlie conceded.

Not to mention, Kurt thought, that monster hasn’t been seen in months. It’s like it knew exactly where to find this girl. And it never interacts with people.

A few feet below, Kotone blinked rapidly. Her focus started coming back. Her eyebrows pinched together. It took a few seconds for her to regain her senses; to Kurt and Charlie’s alarm, she snapped out of confusion faster than they expected. “You fucker!” she screamed, grabbing Charlie’s pantleg and digging her nails in. “I knew you would do thi—”

“Ugh. Confuse Ray,” Charlie said mid-glare.

With a reluctant hiss, Feiruz conjured up a stream of Confuse Ray from the back of his throat.

“Aaugh! No!”

The ghastly spheres made contact with the side of her jaw and dissolved into her flesh. Her eyes rolled for the sky and her head dove for the ground.

A double dose of Confuse Ray wasn’t the nicest thing Charlie and Feiruz had done to a Scientist, but this situation was ridiculous. Something seemed too good to be true about all this. How often does one find a genuine Scientist under these conditions? And what sort of Scientist disguises himself as an angry little Trainer Class-less female?

Charlie put his face in his hands and groaned. “We-ell,” he said with a fake laugh. “I hate her already.” He took one long gulp of air before peering through his gloved fingers. “And uh, we’re also running late. D’you mind teleporting us outta here, man?”

Kurt, saving his commentary for later, fiddled with an interior coat pocket. Dasher came out of his Poké Ball after a few seconds.

“Teleport.”

The pink creature, with a dopey smile, recognized the sound of a programmed command yet again. Pinpoints of light appeared from the darkness, then surrounded them in a ring. The space within it warped and shrank into a thin plane, rocketing away into the humid dawn.

SOMEWHERE UNDERNEATH JOHTO​

This little turn of events was not fun for Kotone.

She woke up horizontally. Her vision was completely black. She couldn’t see anything yet, but her heart leapt for joy— that must have meant she was back in the real world! Oh, the humanity! Oh, the cheap linoleum! The leaky appliances, even the nasty carpet . . . Kotone had never loved them so fiercely.

Her passion waned when the carpet turned out to be a concrete floor. It seeped away as her vision came back, dissolving into the hallway’s cheap fluorescent lighting. Spots and circles floated in and out of her vision, darkening and swaying. She blinked the film away and squinted until she could make out shapes.

“Wha . . . ?”

Kotone cupped her face. Nausea bloomed up, heating her cheeks and saturating her tongue with sickly-sweet moisture. She would have vomited everywhere had she not noticed the strange man who infiltrated her line of sight. He stared down at her.

“Ni-ice! You’re not dead!”

The man laughed at her flinch. A matte red R hugged the fabric on his chest. He scrutinized her, stroking his tiny goatee in deep, post-outburst examination.

“Good morning, new kid. You’re the most Confuse Ray-sensitive person I’ve ever met—”

“Get the fuck away from me, Charlie,” Kotone slurred with a jabbed finger. “And I’m not a kid,” she whined after a slight pause.

Well, she got the opposite point across. The man with purpled hair put his hands on his hips. “Huh? Charlie? I’m not— oh,” he cut himself off and shook his head. “You’re thinking of someone else, kiddo. And his name’s not really Charlie. Regardless, I’m Petrel. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Kotone, in a daze, tilted her head back and kept blinking at him. As the recognition came across her face —she knew he had something to do with impersonating the Director of the Radio Tower— he continued on. She finally took her finger down.

“Mhmm. That’s me. Anyway, now that you’re awake, you’ve gotta come with me to another room. Are you able to walk?”

Equally uncertain, Kotone rolled her ankles around and folded her knees up. They were still functional, thankfully. Her evil eyes rolled around to Petrel again.

“And if I don’t want to?”

He smiled. “Don’t make us use Last Resort on you.”

AFTER JUST ONE FLIGHT OF STAIRS​

Petrel had taken the stairwell with purpose. Naturally, Team Rocket was civilized enough to have an elevator. However, this new hire was never going to become privy to that information. There were benefits to being a decent human being.

“Surely, this is something you’ve always dreamed of,” Petrel scoffed. “Working with the bad guys.”

Kotone, an intellectual, was gasping from exertion. “Lemme tell you a secret, asshole.” Her finger beckoned him closer to her deoxygenated look. “I don’t have any dreams. As a matter of fact, I’ve never had a single dream in my life. I do not belong with you people.”

Petrel raised his eyebrows to himself, particularly at the you people part.

“Besides that, I changed my mind. I have no intention of working with Team Rocket. My name is Kotone Iwamatsu,” she announced, holding back the anxiety on her face as she gulped down more air. “And I have been sucked into your world against my will! I am a human being and I will not—”

Petrel stuck his fingers in his ears halfway through her diatribe, with shut eyes. Each of his meticulous footsteps landed perfectly on the stairs.

“Can you not?”

“Excu-use me? This isn’t real! This is all fake! I am from reality and I have to get out of this game! You’re not listening!”

“Shh, shh. Let’s stop all the complaining. Let’s start thinking of it this way.” Petrel extended his arms out, smiling. He turned around and continued to walk backward. “If you help us, we’ll help you. I like those odds.”

Kotone was moderately impressed that he hadn’t slipped on the stairs yet, but had no intention of expressing it. Her eyes reduced to slits. “You promise? You promise you’ll help me get out of this stupid video game?”

His smile widened. “If that’s what you want, then su-ure. We’ll give it a shot.”

“. . . You know I don’t trust you or anyone else in Team Rocket. Right?”

“Eh,” he said mid-shrug. “I’m used to Classists like you.”

Her expression blanked. “Huh?”

He slapped a hand over his forehead, smearing it down to his chin. Kotone’s own face suddenly stared back. It forced a fake, almost painful smile around the finger he pressed into it. “Let’s not play dumb. You hate me for what I am; yet you don’t fuckin’ know me. Why’s this so confusing to you?”

His perfection impression of her voice shocked Kotone into silence.

Petrel raised his eyebrows in the smuggest of self-satisfaction, then the disguise melted away. He cleared his throat, making way for his actual voice. “Anyway, I’ve learned all there is to know about you. Therefore—”

Her threatening look silenced him for just a second.

“—I think you should be named Eris.”

Screech.

Kotone’s tennis shoes were stuck on two separate stairsteps in shock. “Huh?”

“Y’know,” he continued on, stepping up the bannister uninterrupted, “like Exoatmospheric Reentry-vehicle Interceptor Subsystem. E-R-I-S. C’mon, man, we’ve gotta stick to the theme of rockets and stuff. I’ve always wanted to use this one.”

“That’s not my name.”

“You don’t get a choice. You think we’re gonna call you Kotone? Ha!”

Finally silent, the newly-christened Eris felt a throb inside her chest. She was a nobody in a land of predestined somebodies. She couldn’t argue with that, could she?

“Eri-i-is? You comin’ or not?”

She sighed. And then, she continued walking up the stairsteps, one after the other, with a touch more apprehension. By the time she’d come up with something to bring the man to tears, Petrel had brought her down a short hallway. A heavy metal door blocked them from going any further. Right by the doorknobs, taped at a precise ninety degrees, was a piece of paper with bloodred letters.

INTERROGATION ROOM

Eris turned to him with a pale face. “Wait a minute, in-nterrogation?” she squeaked. “What are you gonna do to me in there?”

Petrel stared at her for a few seconds. “Well, that’s a good question.” Slowly, he reached for the door handle and pulled on it. “I hear these guys like probing and other, uh, monstrosities. And, y’know, you’re supposed to walk in the—”

The door was open. The room was bright; too bright to make out any details.

“—fuckin’ door.”

“Not yet,” she breathed, choking on the whisper. “I’m not ready.”

Petrel wasn’t in the mood to accommodate her jitters. He rolled his eyes and began to push her forward. Eris scrabbled against the hand in the middle of her back; it forced her through the door. Eris stumbled, then flattened her back against the nearest wall, chin lifted to survey. Her bloodshot eyes weren’t adding much to her airs of rectitude.

Well, I’m totally fucked, Eris thought.

“Yo,” Petrel announced, his hand appearing around her shoulder to point, “this girl’s now named Eris. E-R-I-S.”

Without waiting for commentary, he shut the door, sending an echo throughout the modestly-sized room. In that cold air, standing ramrod straight with his arms crossed, was not-Charlie. He’d stripped off the disguise and makeup, but their presence couldn’t ever buff away his unmistakable personality. To make matters worse, he had offensively-green hair. And right beside him, yanking a white lab coat over the R on his uniform, was the old man she had put so much faith in.

“You.”

The sudden hate was paralyzing. Eris stood there all clenched up in wordless fury. She couldn’t figure out who to strangle first.

Petrel observed her take the long walk over to Kurt. She ignored not-Charlie, who was pretending not to be entertained by all this. She was ready to rip Kurt a new asshole. She was going to eviscerate that pathetic old man. But when she got within inches of his face, Eris couldn’t find the words.

“Look,” Kurt began, “I didn’t—”

“You fucking liar. You weren’t gonna help me— you fucking kidnapped me.”

Silence.

“Kurt.”

“Look,” he said, rubbing his eyes and avoiding hers. “Look, I know things have gotten out of hand. I know you think you’re the protagonist. But what you’ve been saying has been scaring us; it’s completely and utterly impossible. Okay? There’s no way to get in or out of this game. There’s nothing out there. We’ve searched for years. We sent out signals in every direction, hoping anything would respond.” He frowned. “And y’know what we got? Nothing. ‘Cause it’s impossible.”

“So that’s it? My world just doesn’t exist? Then how do you explain your Kotone?”

“Miss Kotone,” Petrel corrected from afar.

Eris could only glower at one person at a time, but returned to Kurt after a few seconds. They watched each other, immobilized by hate on one side and guilt on the other, until Kurt’s sudden sigh deflated him. The frown deepened.

“Y’know I didn’t mean to drag you in like this, Eris.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are a gift. I don’t know who you are, or where you come from, but you’re now a part of the greater good. And I’m sorry.”

Interestingly enough, it was that inoffensive ‘sorry’ that sent her into a frothing rage. Eris, with contorted hands and sky-high blood pressure, lunged through his personal space, seizing Kurt by the collar of his Team Rocket uniform. “Who the fuck d’you think you are?” she screeched. “You think this is a game? You think my life’s just—”

“Well, technically this is a game,” Petrel cut in obstinately.

“Okay, fuck off,” she snapped at him. Eris turned back to not-Charlie. “And you,” she hissed, eyes narrowing. “You’re a real piece of shit.”

“I know.”

That answer made her even angrier, believe it or not. She proceeded to nail that real piece of shit in the jaw with the free hand. She then pointed in not-Charlie’s face with the same hand, as he was recoiling from the blow. “I never shook this fucker’s hand! The deal is off!”

Jaw stinging, not-Charlie groaned to the room. He glared at her, snapped Feiruz’s Poké Ball off his belt, and tossed it at the floor. Feiruz burst onto the scene with great confusion, fluttering over the commotion and looking down on everyone. Charlie directed Feiruz’s beady eyes to a corner of the room.

“Put her wa-ay back, buddy. And maybe hit her with some more of that Confuse Ray.”

Eris yelped and immediately sequestered a five-foot radius from not-Charlie and Feiruz. “You’re putting me in time out?” she cried. “Do you really think treating me like a kid is gonna— aaugh!” she shrieked, backing up from the Golbat that came flapping up. She eyed his great mouth, gurgling with the potential to confuse. “Kurt! Help me!”

He just stared at her, then turned to not-Charlie. “You oughta at least try something less potent this time, Proton,” Kurt grumbled at him.

“I think Sludge Bomb is pushing it a bit.”

That gave Eris some pause. There was something familiar about that name. “Wait— Proton?” she shouted, craning her neck around Feiruz. That was the Team Rocket member from the Slowpoke Well who had caused Kurt a lot of grief. “Aw, shit, aren’t you the fucker who cut off all those Slowpoketails? I don’t wanna work with you.”

He merely glared at her. Then he ordered another bombardment of Confuse Ray.

“Aaugh!”

Luckily, Feiruz had missed. The ghostly attack dissolved into the wall, rippling the surface and flashing holographic colors. It left a three-foot-diameter patch of oxidized gray paint. Eris, briefly mesmerized by the attack, now found Feiruz back at her feet. She cried out in alarm, backing up. She unintentionally corralled herself deeper into the corner. Feiruz followed her the whole way.

She glared at her wrangler. “Ugh. Why do you like me so much, anyway?”

Feiruz sat himself down in front of her, fitting his stubby legs against the concrete floor. Like a person. He gazed deeply into her eyes and twittered. She couldn’t help but ogle at his calm, collected demeanor. She scooted a few centimeters back, opening up a gap between them. His eyes widened, then he waddled closer.

“You’re very friendly, aren’t you?”

A succinct squeak was all he could offer. His beady eyes got closer. He scooted to the very boundary of personal space and chirruped in her face. Eris, cringing, patted his head in hopes of appeasing him; Feiruz, encouraged, shut his eyes with a sigh. Eris, now finished pacifying him, turned away and crossed her arms.

“Eeek!”

A painfully high-pitched whine filled her ears. The men grumbled and scowled at the two of them. Feiruz inched forward, his gaze flicking between her hands and her eyes. The poor thing had no idea how much subtlety he lacked. As she glared at him, her mind began to wander.

Why was I taken here?

This quarantine now led her to a stunning conclusion. She was useless: she couldn’t clean, craft, or counsel. Her cooking skills were subpar and she was too good to provide moral support. Without her education, she was useless. Stunned, her legs gave way: she slid down the wall until she hit the floor. She stared at nothing.

So, what pretense were they using to keep her around?

Feiruz, oblivious to her existential meltdown, cuddled up under her arm. She could barely detect his high-frequency purr. His wingspan enveloped her rigid body completely. Eris groaned. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered to herself, shutting her eyes. “I absolutely cannot believe this.”

“What’s there not to believe?” Proton pondered aloud, successfully wrangling his sarcasm into deference.

She opened her eyes to glare at the once-imaginary villains. “That’s a hell of a lot, coming from you people.”

Now it was Proton’s turn to raise his eyebrows at the mention of you people. “. . . Okay? Look, I know you’re angry, Eris, but—”

She set her teeth and sighed through them. “Your buddy with the purple hair may be trying to brainwash me into Eris, but my name is Kotone.” She crossed her arms, leaning back into the wall. Her eyes, so dark brown they looked black, were icy. “You can take my freedom and my dignity, but you will not,” she paused for emphasis, voice wavering, “you will not take my name away from me.”

They were already ignoring her, back to muttering amongst themselves. Feriuz scooted away and continued to gaze deep into her eyes.

Upset, Eris grabbed the side of her head for dramatic effect. But there was a surprise awaiting her hand: her fingers had landed on a barrette— the same one, in fact, that had taken the fall for her. She could remember the nasty crack of impact. And, yet, there it was, returned to a perfect condition and totally unmoved. She slid her fingers across its plasticky surface, mystified. That’s weird. I haven’t worn one of these since I was little.

“Hey, Eris?”

Eris looked up at the man who walked over: it was Petrel. She took her hand off the barrette. “Huh?”

“Can you answer just one question for me? Then we’ll consider this a stalemate.”

Eris wanted to tell the man that she only dealt in terms of checkmate, but held her tongue. They’re damn lucky I’m not climbing the walls and screaming my head off, she thought.

“. . . Whatever.”

The possibilities raced around inside Petrel’s mind.

Who are you? Why do you think you’re the protagonist? Why are you calling yourself a Scientist? Did you really see that monster up close? Did you talk to it?

The weight of the questions pressing against his eyeballs was spurring a headache. He wanted to ask them all in a tizzy, but knew he had to hold his tongue. This unpleasant pseudoscientist wasn’t going to crack too easily. They needed to try a different angle. He held his breath.

“Did that monster talk to you, Eris?”

An image of its dripping visage hit her. The pinpoint pupils widened, alongside the smile. She shuddered, pulling her knees close to her chest. Her lower lip trembled. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I think it was gonna eat me if I didn’t do what it said.” The image in her mind started moving, pulling its gummy mandibles apart and hissing. She remembered the way black spittle flew through the humidity.

“Wait, seriously? Did you understand it?”

She nodded, then buried her face into her hands. This new hiding place was as dark as the monster itself, and offered no protection. She couldn’t get it out of her head. Those black eyes were searching for her. She knew it.

Petrel’s expression softened. He squatted down, palm against the ground for stability, and made it down to her eye level. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re both gonna help each other out. I think you’ll find out that we people aren’t as bad as you’d think.”

He looked over at Proton and Kurt, eyebrows raised in expectation of help. They offered no such reparations. Rolling his eyes at his colleagues, Petrel returned to Eris.

“We’re not really sure how to deal with you yet,” he admitted. “I mean, I guess I’m gonna sit down over the next couple of days and prepare a slate of questions for you.” He patted her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s change the subject. We’re gonna integrate you with the Scientists— just don’t mention that monster.”

Silence.

Eris, eventually, peeled her palms away from her eyes and met Petrel’s outstretched hand. Her field of vision traveled up the arm and over to his face. He smiled at her. A wobbly smile traveled up her face in response. Superficially, she was calm, but her thoughts had transcended mere emotion.

What’s going to happen when that monster finds me?

INSIDE THE CENTRAL LABORATORY​

A tall man in a white lab coat turned around. His eyebrows lifted over his spectacles. Four other identical men —Scientists, no doubt— craned their necks over to stare at the four people now entering their laboratory. Red neckties adorned their necks in stark contrast to their frizzy, lavender-colored hair. One of the Scientists stood up and pushed in his chair, watching the female visitor with unease.

“Uh . . . ma’am, do you have the proper clearance to be in here?”

“She’s with us,” Petrel clarified.

Proton scanned both the Scientists and Eris, comparing all their features. This girl was far shorter than the Scientists, which was the most damning admission against her identity as a Scientist. He snorted to himself, ignoring Petrel’s look over his shoulder. All this nonsense had put him in a mood; he scanned the crowd for a Scientist to berate.

“Howdy, then,” said another Scientist with an identical voice and appearance. He continued typing at his computer on the other end of the lab. “I’m Mitch, and that was Garett. Guess you’re that new hire everyone’s been talking about.” He craned himself over the edge of his swivel chair, swiping at the air in hopes of invitation. His eyes, though perched on purpled dark circles, were friendly. “Wanna come see what I’m doing?”

Gingerly, Eris took a few steps closer to the man.

“I’m one of the Scientists, obviously. There’s Garett, Gregg, Ross, Trenton, and myself. I’m the head of the latest project.” He cleared his throat, motioning for her to come closer. “You see, my specialty is probing,” Mitch snickered, wiggling his fingers in her face for effect.

Eris blanched at that sentence, until she realized that none of these Scientists could have had any medical expertise. Otherwise, they’d have been called Doctors.

“Lemme show you something cool,” he began, swiveling around in his chair. Mitch threaded his fingertips past one another, conjuring up the mental imagery. “You know we live on a flat world, right?”

Eris’s exasperation nearly exploded out of her mouth in a scoff, but she held it together.

“. . . Uh, well, it’s been proven time-and-time-again that we live on a flat, impenetrable surface, surrounded by a substance called aether.” Mitch pointed to a perfectly-straight line on the monitor. A slight tremor in his arm kept his fingertip dancing about the pixels. He turned back to Eris. “Everything you know and love—” he flinched at her snort at the mention of love, “—sits on this plane.” After a slight pause and a couple of quick glances at two of the other Scientists, he continued on. “That thing acts like a barrier. You can fall off the edge of the world, but you just can’t go straight down through it. Not even Dig can get through. Which brings up my main question: what exactly is underneath us?”

She continued to stare at the monitor, unmoved.

“Beneath our world,” he continued, with a touch of reverence, “is where the programming ends. That’s the place we don’t understand: the underworld.” A silly grin began traveling up his face, and his eyes sparkled with rapture. “We live on the overworld,” he declared, pausing for effect. “And now we’re studying the underworld. Y’know, underworld? Get it? Get it?”

Eris was as impressed as one would expect.

Mitch soldiered on, blocking out the adjacent conversation. “Okay, so, theoretically, the programming just can’t last forever. Once you go off the end, you’re just gone. So we’re gonna try something. We’re gonna see what’s below us. We’re calling this experiment . . . New Frontiers.”

“Okay, then.”

New Frontiers was a cryptic, crude little thing, but it was worth a shot.

Eris gave it some thought. She had dealt with something that could penetrate that plane they lived on. Something massive and ornery. Something alive. The complexion on poor Eris drained of all color at the realization. Maybe these people really did need her, after all.

“Okay, okay. It looks like you’re a bit overwhelmed with the physics. It’s not that bad, I promise. Let me horribly oversimplify it for you: we’re gonna let this thing swim across the ocean, fall off the edge of the world . . . a-and see what happens.”

He smiled to himself, reaching under Trenton’s and Proton’s noses for Kurt’s Pokégear.

“Let’s get started.”

Click.

MANY HOURS LATER, WITHIN THE UNDERWORLD
​

Crack.

New Frontiers rattled the thin, transparent membrane beneath the world of HeartGold. The probe bled out a puddle of sizzling information, whose whiteness was barely lit by the world above. Sparks lit up the perpetual midnight. The probe was dead on impact, wasted by the sudden deceleration.

It had performed exactly as designed. You see, those Scientists were right. The abyssal underworld couldn’t go on forever. That was clearly beyond the computing abilities of a toy mass-produced in the early aughties. There was a barrier between worlds down there. And that membrane, as you now know, was the only thing separating the Nintendo DS and the real world.

A little later . . . something slithered up.

It eyed the crash site —its curiosity tempered with common sense— then prodded the remains with its snout. A larger piece had miraculously survived. The monster stared at the foreign writing on it, feeling uncomfortable. It couldn’t read the symbols.

THE RHODODENDRON INSTITUTE

This random act of destruction brought back some unspeakable memories from its first home: a place called Emerald.

Spoiler: Fun Fact

Prepare thyself for a monster-centric chapter up next! This is where you start to understand Monster McMonsterface!

 

[Arkadelphiak]

My dudes, it's t-t-t-time for a paradigm-shift!

Spoiler: M Y D U D E S

Imagine if the Deprogramming had those time cards. The same ones from Spongebob, with the same narrator.
HMmmm.

Yo, you are onto something! I personally would like one that says 'AFTER TRUSTING THE SPATIAL AWARENESS OF AN OLD MAN'.

You've described Kotone as 'the pseudoscientist' quite a few times in quite a short text. A bit of a personal thing, I just prefer to see characters named by their names a bit more.

Whoops, fixed.

Protagonist syndrome? Ha! I wish we could learn more about this.

You shall!

I'm guessing 'monster' is the consistant term here. Switching it out with words like 'beast' or 'creature' could also work. (Unless you are using 'monster' to show how it relates to 'pocket monsters' in that case, nice symbolism, keep going!)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Oh goodness, this is in meme format:

You: Surely, this is something you’ve always dreamed of
Kotone, an intellectual: “Lemme tell you a secret, asshole.”

The Deprogramming is just one big meme, I tell you.

Eris? Like the goddess of Discord? Congrats on becoming a demon of strife and revenge Kotone! (Also, interestingly an idea called 'Discordianism' exists it's a new age kind of thing, and it's often hard to tell how serious it is, it's mostly used in litreature for metaphors/symbolism and the like.)

Believe me, we're just scratching the surface of the symbolism.

Well, this chapter certainly moved the story on a lot. Introduced a lot of concepts as well which are going to be pretty important later on. I'm very much looking forward to seeing Eris's new relations build with Proton and the other members of Team Rocket. They already have a massive identity shift to deal with along with being in an entirely new world altogether. The Monster being, even more, Meta and bringing in even more games was something unexpected. (Will we see Magma/Aqua in later chapters as well?) There are tons of directions this could go in and lots of plot threads to solve.

No Team Magma or Team Aqua, but we'll see an interesting picture up next.

Sort of the prose equivalent of being body-positive then? I think that to a great extent it does depend on how you see the world. I find myself getting easily captivated (Sometimes to the point of enchanted, soppy gal that I am) by nature, so it tends to show up in my writing. Couple that with being a logophile and there you have it. The downside is that I find the kind of hard-edged, cynical prose that Athena or kintsugi can turn out that much more difficult to write.

Exactly!

I've noticed a recurring oddity in this chapter, of non-sequiturs that seem to occur because a piece of information is missing.

Fixed!

How very Sopranos of them.

I hope that quote hasn't been used already. I randomly thought of that inversion and it was hilarious to me.

Kind of strikes as a bit "As you know, the King, your father" in that - if the Unown mucking about is that common, would it really need explaining?

The explanation is really there for the readers, so I think I'll try to make it a bit more subtle.

If there's one aspect to work on, I think it would be action. The other stylistic points above are places where I think there's room for improvement, but nothing that urges an immediate edit. The action in this chapter slides by, though, and it does end up requiring a double take. Kotone's run in with Feiruz, for example - you could easily afford to show Proton's order and narrate the missed attack in detail. The same goes for being trapped in a corner and that apparent Screech attack - Feiruz's dialogue is a lot of "Eeeks", usually without any emphasis. We can't tell this "Eeek" as being anything different from any other, not at first glance.

For clarification purposes, any time an actual move is used, it will be indicated via Courier New. Otherwise, that's just Feiruz screeching about. He's inspired by the character Goishi from Cutlerine's The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World, so I like keeping that little memento in there.

There is a sense of the story as a whole beginning to get to the point. Admittedly having come back to this in several versions it does seem more like treading the same ground. Within the chapter I felt that it was a bit unfocused. I found myself wondering afterwards what the point was in bringing Kotone to the lab. Narratively it seems to be the chance to explain things about the world's physics. But, given that the Rockets don't do anything with Kotone (Knew probing was a red herring), it begs the question of why she isn't locked in a room somewhere with a bowl of soup to keep her company.

Ooh, another point of clarification: this is not the Team Rocket you know! And, in addition, I've slimmed up the chapter some more. thx bb

What I will say is that while your comedic timing is still very much on point, you did kind of overused the Confused Ray joke, I mean it's more of a thing of consistency but when I hope we don't see it used that much more outside of this chapter because otherwise it'd get pretty old. The other issue I have with this chapter mainly has to do with the way in which it's distributed. While we learn a lot about what TR has planned at the end of the chapter, most of the rest of it is set up for Kotone actually appearing in the base, in theory this fits well enough.

Ayy, the Confuse Ray stuff is setting up for something ironic that'll take place waaay toward the end of the story.

In practice I think this ends up causing it to come off as the weakest chapter for me, while Kotone's suffering at the hands of Team Rocket is milked for laughs (even though it's a genuinly creepy situation and we get some...lines that exemplify that) it doesn't really tell us much more about Kotone or any of the character's on a deeper level, I assume that's something you'll get more into later since you haven't delved much into it again.
The other issue I found is that the chapter seemed to grow staler as it went on, your brand of humor is fun when you hit on a very specific moment, but when it's a constant stream of the same jokes it just causes things to become dull and at this point I don't know whether you want this to be a crack fic or a legit story.

Yeah, definitely the weakest chapter overall. I'm not a fan of transition chapters as much as ones where there's concentrated action (i.e. Chapter I and this upcoming one). I'm trying to polish it up!

Also, The Deprogramming is a hybrid of crack and legitimate storytelling-- an experiment, if you will.

(maybe he's a Pokemon that Kotone ported over?)

M A Y B E

I'm here to shitpost my way through the detriment in return for you shitposting your way through guidance.

I've mentioned before that I have a very soft spot in my heart for stories that deal with protagonists who are stripped of their privileges (or rights, depending on your perspective) and essentially trapped in one way or another by a villain. It allows for a somewhat nuanced villain while still making them deeply unsettling and obviously in the path of the protagonist. And the idea that they might be right in spite of the horrific thing they did just makes the whole thing even more thought provoking. And then you have to wonder if you got Stockholm syndrome from a fictional character and of course they're in the wrong and...

I think a lot about these things. And this does them well, with a protagonist who's objectively unsympathetic but still might not deserve what she's getting.

WOOOOOOO I LOVE STORIES LIKE THAT TOO

your boy kurt is making rockets

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Eris is such a great rocket and protagonist name, nerdy rationale aside. I love it and am just annoyed I didn't snatch it up first.

thx bb

yo gurl, it's ya boi senori

oh wait. that's not right, is it? i forget who i am

r i p p e r o n i

It's interesting that unown interferences are normal and natural. To me that means the unown are just gonna be another thing Kotone gets annoyed and confused over while everyone gives her a weird look, wondering why she's all worked up. Anddd given the little snippets of unown I've seen before, still looking forward to them showing up more.

Yeah, I'm kind of implying that they're noisy and a bit of a nuisance if you're trying to listen to the radio. And believe me, they'll show back up in "The Oracle of Goldenrod" and stay relevant.

As for Kotone and her breakdown, it was a long time coming, wasn't it? I thought it handled well overall... It does have a sort of comedic effect to it, as if I as the reader aren't quite supposed to take her as seriously (just like the game NPCs lol), and I'm not sure if that was your intent. You mentioned future chapters getting a bit darker, though, so that could remedy the issue even if not (and offer a new spin on things if it was).

Yeah, I'm trying to balance a lot of things against comedy. Needs some work.

Last thing is that the trainer classes playing a role in this story is hilarious and great, especially with the Scientist and learning about how the game NPCs themsevles define it ingame. Again, it makes for more confusion for Kotone, which mayyy get old if it drags on too long, but really, you're kind of limited in your setting/worldbuilding, so you've got to make do with what you've got. And you make do with what you've got pretty well.

Also, Feiruz is adorable. He can incapacitate me anyday. <3

Looking forward to more when it's here!

<3

“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster

so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”

―The Monster, Frankenstein


V

EMERALD​

Would you like to save the

CLICK

. . .

. . .

A Bad EGG was born.

The space-time fabric inside the tiny PC rippled. The island of the Battle Frontier undulated very, very slowly.

KOTONE’s final product of the Emerald Cloning Glitch was hard to describe. After all, there was nothing quite like it. The programming fumbled with the runny, lifeless information. The programming could only stare at the failure it held. The failed clone’s presence caused nearby bytes to jitter and decay.

To make things worse, the clone’s primogenitor had been hacked for perfect qualities . . . one too many times. Nothing good could come of it, the programming realized. Not only did it strongly disapprove of what KOTONE kept doing to its world, it was exhausted. It had gotten a little reckless, a little senile over the years. It took some comfort in knowing that it had no choice. It would take no blame. After all, it was just programming.

Crack.

The final clone materialized in the thirteenth slot of PC BOX 14. It was hunched over inside the Bad EGG shell. Through its lidless eyes, the silhouetted residents came into view. Everything was made of large pixels. But something did not feel right.

“Wow. How’d KOTONE clone an EGG?”

Multiple voices bounced around the shell walls. Its eyes widened. The clone was very confused.

“I . . . thought an EGG could not be cloned.”

“Who cares? We’ve got a new friend!”

Long threads of light lined the walls of that perfect cube, but the two-dimensional bodies of the POKéMON remained unlit. Their appearances varied wildly. The shortest one kept giving the Bad EGG a cold look. Two of the POKéMON were nearly identical. The tallest was a green serpent with black eyes and plenty of commandeering airs: a RAYQUAZA. The newest clone, even while protected behind the shell, shrunk under its gaze. The serpent tilted its head. “You don’t like talking, do you?”

It was correct. But, to be fair, the clone was focused on escaping the shell.

“That’s okay. You are one of KOTONE’s clones, little one,” it said. “Just like us.”

The clone tilted something that felt like a head, mirroring the great RAYQUAZA. It learned her name just then. Or had it already known?

“Hello-o?” a LATIAS cut in. She craned over a nearby LATIOS, trying to see the Bad EGG better. “Can you hear me?”

“Stop doing that,” the monotone voice of a PORYGON2 cut in. “An EGG cannot hatch in here. Leave it alone.”

That was not what the clone wanted to hear. A couple of murky memories from its primogenitor came back: a mute little girl with cold, blue eyes and a sporty uniform, emerald green like the serpent. Concentrated, divine presence; listless linear movements that covered massive distances with ease. That must have been this KOTONE, it figured.

But who was she?

They remained frozen in their respective PC Box 14 matrix until the game had finally shut off. A sense of energy dissipated, leaving the world slightly cooler. Now that the game was off, the other clones were free to roam the rest of the container. The Bad EGG wobbled, then slammed into the thin plane with false, flat grasses, acting as a floor.

Crack.

The shell ruptured, black fluid spilling out past it, exposing the clone’s underdeveloped body to the sterile atmosphere. Instead of climbing out of the broken shell, it oozed out. It managed enough surface tension to pull itself out of its mostly-liquid state. A torso and neck materialized. A head sprouted from them, followed by appendages and legs down below.

“Uh, buddy? You’re supposed to need KOTONE for that.”

The clone held its appendages out and stared at them. They had peeled off unevenly from its two-dimensional body. It spun one and was shocked to see it reach an incredible thinness. It was a wholly two-dimensional being stitched together in an effort to be three-dimensional. Every inch of skin was blackened past the point of recognition. It was nothing more than a gooey mess with weak vision. Were those its arms? Were those its legs? Was it supposed to have either of those?

The PORYGON2 watched it from a distance. “Clone? What . . . exactly are you?”

What a strange-looking creature— the gall of it to ask such a prying question!

Although it wanted to talk to the PORYGON2, it was impossible for the clone to find its mouth. Even for a newborn, the situation was perplexing: everyone knew that cloning was an easy process— so, what happened to this one?

It could only stare in hopes of figuring out how to respond. It had no idea who or what its primogenitor was. It simply could not remember.

A watery, glittery fluid had been dripping off the appendages, but it sped up; however, this was no amniotic fluid. It was something far more.

Its limbs twitched in the silence. The clone, with quickened breathing, realized that the POKéMON were still watching its every move. Its head swung back and forth, panicked, until it realized that PORYGON2 had made its way across the cube to hover right below the clone’s eyes.

“Hello, clone,” the PORYGON2 began anew. “You and I have some important things to discuss. There are a few things that you must understand, now that you are here. Therefore, let me start with another question for you.” Its blank eyes were taut with a higher plane of analysis. “Answer this next question honestly. Okay?”

Silence.

“Are you happy?”

The clone stared back, unsure how to answer.

“Er— allow me to correct myself. What is your friendship value, clone?”

Without any thought involved, a 255 appeared in the clone’s mind.

“You are thinking of a 0. So am I.”

The clone blanked at PORYGON2, thankful for its expressionless face.

“Let me get to the point. When KOTONE hacked our primogenitors in,” PORYGON2 continued, “she did everything right— we are perfect for fighting here in the Battle Frontier, but, she forgot one thing. She did not set a friendship value. Maybe she forgot; maybe she is just lazy. But we are stuck at 0. Some are stuck at higher numbers. Forever.”

The clone’s eyes went wide at that last word. How could KOTONE do this?

It nearly keeled over at the thought of how much it loved that KOTONE. It was a breathless, selfless, stupid type of love— yet it was completely unsolicited. Its heart nearly burst out of its thoracic cavity. The clone knew nothing of this entity, and yet, every time it tried to think about her, fingers of moronic love tore its rational thoughts apart. Who was she?

This is not right, it realized.

“Think about it,” PORYGON2 continued. “Do you really think KOTONE has time to sit around and make us all numerically happy? How long do you think that would take?” it asked, letting the question sit in the air for a few moments. Its eyes narrowed when the clone didn’t respond. “Try not to think in absolutes, clone. But, alas, it would be a waste of time. We are on a ticking clock— one beyond our world, and one within it.” Its blank face tried to frown. “I, er, think the internal battery in ours has dried up.”

. . . What is a battery?

“This is all fine and dandy, until all this nice, orderly data rots. Then we die.” It scoffed. “Thanks, entropy.”

The clone tilted its head at that fatal word— entropy.

PORYGON2 noticed. “Ah. Entropy, you ask?”

The clone nodded.

“I think that is a little too theoretical for you.”

Entropy, of all things, too complex for a being of pure chaos? Its eyes widened, staring the PORYGON2 down. This was absolutely unacceptable. This flat-faced creature and its empty placidity had gone too far. Furious, the clone tried to hiss. It wanted to watch horror spread across that stupid, blank face. Instead, phlegmy heaves wreaked its body for a few seconds, projected from afar. The clone failed to find a mouth anywhere on its vaguely humanoid body.

PORYGON2 froze. It returned the clone’s stare, trying not to betray its nerves.

“. . . Well, ah,” it said after a few tense seconds. “Our, uh, overall well-being is dependent on bytes and specific substructures we will never get. Only KOTONE can give us these values.” Its eyes trailed off for a moment, toward its least favorite neighbor. “Take RAYQUAZA for example. It has a value of 255. Which basically means it will be happy forever . . .”

The mighty RAYQUAZA practically glowed with self-importance. Unfortunately, it noticed the PORYGON2’s lack of subtlety and returned a cool stare.

This is not fair, the clone thought. Why would she do this to us?

The clone shook its head, feeling its large head tilt precariously, wobbling on its thin neck. This could not be true. It did not think she was capable of doing such a thing. Why was KOTONE so unfair? Who did she think she was?

It sighed. This was getting annoying.

The other POKéMON kept bickering about cloning in the midst of the clone’s slow introspection. It stood away from them. But to its surprise, RAYQUAZA slithered up next to it. The clone ignored the suspicion in those black eyes. Being mute was unbearably awkward, so it scanned the void above them. But RAYQUAZA was smart. It knew that there was something off about the newest clone.

“Look at that.”

RAYQUAZA held a short arm up. The black void stretched above; a two-dimensional screen was suspended in perfect stillness over the entire cube. As the clone looked closer, the POKéMON Storage System interface was superimposed backwards on it. A pixelated, frozen POKéMON occupied each unit. There was a title above everything.

KOTONE’s CLONES

That word again.

“Hmm. Your icon is still an EGG.”

The matrix held thirty slots, almost halfway full. In the newest, furthest slot laid the clone’s pixelated icon. It looked perfectly fine, though. It was just a normal EGG.

RAYQUAZA frowned. “Something,” it whispered well-beneath the standard hearing range, “I fear, is horribly wrong with you—”

“Oh, right,” that dreaded voice droned. “RAYQUAZA forgot to tell you that cloning is unethical. We are not meant to exist.”

The clone’s eyes must have doubled in size. A couple of gasps came from the other POKéMON. The atmosphere simmered for a moment. The clone was not sure if it liked the idea of spending an eternity with this crowd.

RAYQUAZA sighed, letting the release of air devolve into a hiss.

“Oh,” the PORYGON2 cut in, “so you think this is fair, RAYQUAZA? Is it fair that our information was tampered with? Do you really think that we are more than faceless duplicates? Playthings? Look me in the eyes and tell me that I am more than a spare. And whenever you finish,” PORYGON2 spat, “I beg you to tell me: is it wrong to not want to sit here for the rest of my life? Why am I less valuable than my twin?”

The red lipliner on RAYQUAZA’s mouth flexed down. “Calm down. This clone doesn’t—”

“Do not get off topic. You think we can just live happily ever after with a faulty clone? We are unstable enough as is. Does this mean you don’t know what they can do?”

It sidled up to RAYQUAZA, slowly bringing its empty gaze up, holding eye contact.

RAYQUAZA stared venomously at its brotherly neighbor. They glowered in turn, until RAYQUAZA let out an even deeper hiss. It coiled up its sinuous length and snarled at the various passive clones. It had no more profundities to bring to the table.

The clone threaded its appendages, similarly to fingers, hoping for this conversation to end. There was no balm for its nerves.

“Anyway,” PORYGON2 said to the clone. “We make the game unstable simply by existing. And, my, are we tempting. Who says she cannot move onto bigger, better things? Every time she makes a clone, she runs a risk. She is playing with forces beyond her control. Reality itself rests on bits and bytes and substructures . . . these concepts are an order of magnitude more complex than this silly little game we are in. It is clear that she has no idea what she is doing.”

The clone was silent. It unclasped its appendages. A piece of bright glitter fell out from between them.

“One wrong move,” PORYGON2 said, eyes widening, “and we are all dead.”

Ping!

Everything happened in a split-second to KOTONE, yet it felt like minutes to the little bits of data inside.

The game was back on. And, yet, time had not flown in a tender, linear fashion inside that PC. Hot glitter dripped faster from the tips of the clone’s appendages. The liquid spontaneously developed greater cohesion. The clone tried not to panic, even as everyone watched.

Something was wrong. Something was going to happen.

The white light of renewal filled the PC as the game flashed on. The warm presence of KOTONE filled the world and their hearts. Then, everything went back to black.

The clone brought one wriggling feeler up to its face. The three-dimensional, rainbow-colored substance stared back. It bled through that two-dimensional world with colors beyond the clone’s capacity for explanation. The psychedelic white noise inside it started ripping holes in the fabric of space itself. The pathetic little clone had no control over this cosmic substance.

The clone tried to take a deep breath; it wanted to talk. Still, no mouth could be found.

“Look at it. It’s gonna do something.”

Without warning, RAYQUAZA came to the right conclusion. In fact, RAYQUAZA was right: good things can never come from cloning. Its black sclerae widened. Its tail whipped out of nowhere, catching the clone’s face.

“Get back! Get back!”

But it was too late.

“That thing is not a POKéMON! It’s a monster!”

The clone, more dead than alive, slammed into the floor with a deafening crack. A wound opened up in its face. The glittery fluid spilled out from the wound, gushing and sizzling in its wake.

The clone realized, with giddy horror, that it didn’t have to obey these rules. These silly, arbitrary rules— their stuffy logic had no place in a stupid world like this. The clone made up its mind on that slowly-dissolving spot; it didn’t want to listen these whisperings of programmable logic, especially if they had anything to do with KOTONE.

So, it didn’t.

The clone slung a limb around, flinging the glittery goo at RAYQUAZA in a kaleidoscopic spray.

Atomized droplets hit the mighty serpent’s face, melting past the snakeskin and lodging inside its head. RAYQUAZA writhed and dropped to the floor of PC Box 14. It rolled over in agony. Glitter began eating its way out from the eyeballs, melting the sockets and dripping into its screaming mouth. The sterile air was overpowered with RAYQUAZA’s decay.

“No— no! No!” the POYRGON2 howled, channeling some inner power to raise its voice. It backed up from its melted, serpentine sibling. “This is all wrong! Make it stop, clone! Stop!”

The world tottered between the dimensions. The clone was suddenly three-dimensional, getting up from the floor and reaching at their flat faces. The other clones warped back into the feeble, second dimension as the plane beneath them began to melt. Back and forth, back and forth.

PORYGON2, barely able to float above the dissolving plane, could only gape at the clone. It shook his head back and forth. “She finally made a monster,” it breathed to itself. It bowed its head.

The clone just watched.

“Oh, w-well, I did not want to die this soo—”

But the clone’s Midas touch was too much for this solid state. PC Box 14 rumbled, culminating into a hole opening up beneath the clone. It was sucked down and out— without much fanfare, it slammed face-first into a keyboard. Glass exploded everywhere as it entered the outside world, laid halfway through the broken PC screen. The caustic liquid gushed around its prone body.

“Aaugh! The clones are escaping!” a woman shrieked.

Frankly, being three-dimensional made the clone nauseated. It braced its slippery appendages on the tiled floor and slung back its head, discovering a new room. The rest of its body oozed out between the glass shards.

“Everyone get out! Now!” the same receptionist inside the Battle Tower screamed. She staggered back through the doors, choking on her scream at the sight of the clone. The fear on her face intertwined with disgust. She vanished past the doorway.

The glistery ooze swept across the blue tiles. To the clone’s surprise, half of it went outside; the other half began to slither straight for a set of dainty human feet, cocooned in tennis shoes. Its vision followed en suit, all the way up to a little girl’s face.

She had a comatose beauty like that, standing at the receptionist’s desk without a care in the world as the liquid tried to eat at her ankles. The clone staggered across the tiles, hunched over in pain, having eyes for no one but her— who was she? What was she like? What did she think of the clone, or rather, its primogenitor?

“Help,” it managed to croak. The clone loomed over the avatar, holding out its appendages in a peace gesture. “I th-think you,” it faltered. “I think you turned me into a monster, KOTONE.”

This picturesque little scene —a feckless mother, an unexpected child, and the screaming public— was a sight like no other in Emerald.

KOTONE scared the clone. But, fear itself couldn’t have stopped it from grabbing her arms, hoping to plead for its life. It was a fatal gesture. The clone’s three-dimensional state jittered back to its two-dimensional one; the world became excruciatingly flat for a split second. KOTONE’s face reduced to pixels. The endless cracking and crackling intensified. The baby face of KOTONE was beginning to melt. It became distorted, grotesque— aging in a fraction of a second.

And then the building exploded, unfortunately.

The clone exited the building in the most unceremonious of manners; the forcible ejection threw it into the glittery flood outside. After extracting its face from the glittery waters, It found itself under a flickering, baby blue sky. The atmosphere shuddered with loud, oblique shock waves, then was replaced by a painfully bright, ultraviolet plane. Randomized color bars jittered across its face, ejecting bursts of glitter that melted all it touched. People, POKéMON, buildings: all their bits burnt up with a hiss.

The clone, however, was perfectly fine. It didn’t realize this immediately.

KOTONE suddenly teleported from the battered building, right next to the clone, perfectly fine apart from her liquefied face.

White-hot bytes rained down from makeshift clouds. These snowflakes of corrosive data loss loomed above in loop-de-loops. Emerald didn’t even have that type of weather. The little screaming flakes melted into acid rain. A wall of droplets fell toward the clone and its liquefying owner. The clone, fully expecting to die, grabbed her hand.

But the warmth of KOTONE’s soft hand jolted the clone into action. If it didn’t do something, that warmth would go up in smoke. And, in some sick sense, it wanted to protect this evil little girl.

So, with a numerical value of 255 spurring every fiber of its being, the clone yanked her away, shuddering as the pieces went straight on —harmlessly— through its skin. The weight of KOTONE in its hand-like appendage lessened. But when it turned to face her, it learned that it had literally disarmed the girl. Only a skinny arm remained in its palm. It recoiled, aghast, at the mess of white, gooey information staining its appendage. The rest of the avatar’s body laid feet away, sinking into the gleaming muck under the acid rain.

"No," the clone whispered.

Kotone Iwamatsu may not have known it, but she had a very narrow definition of life. Life is information, information is life. She had no idea what she did. With just a few clicks, she strung up those little vibrating patterns and spun them across cyberspace. And there they were, falling apart.

A few feet away, the clone was transfixed by its reflection on the melting glass exterior of the Battle Tower. Its skin was completely blackened. Its huge, disembodied eyes floated around as they watched themselves. Behind it, the glass reflected two seas. One was a pure, blue brine. The second was a knee-deep, rainbow-colored ocean, with fractalized fingers reaching further and further out to the Hoenn mainland.

Crack.

Its reflection vanished as the twinkling ocean ate up the lowest set of windows, one by one. The degloved skin of a receptionist’s face floated past the clone’s leg. The clone let the unrecognizable mass of flesh fall, ignoring the sizzle afterwards. How had this happened so fast? Who was to blame?

It would take about a decade for the blame to come full circle. But, in the meantime— entropy got what it wanted.

Spoiler: F U N F A C T

I never said the clone was a Rayquaza, FYI! The infamous 'cocaine joke' chapter is up next. Also, putting select things in Courier New is a pain in the ass. And, this is me getting sappy, but the fact that there are people out there who actually want to read my story makes me very happy. So, thank you. <3

 

[Arkadelphiak]

Spoiler: R E S P O N D

Where I come from, eggs are well known for their long, drawn-out and epic conversational dialogues.

ayyy lmao fair enough

So monster suppose to be shiny Raquaza confirmed?

The black goo is meant to be a sign of its ruined body, not shiny-ness. And I can't confirm nor deny anything about the monster's identity. You'll have to wait for that reveal.

Yandere Monster confirmed.

OH NOOO MY MONSTER IS A WEEB

Is cloning more or less ethical than getting a mew via the mew glitch?

Cloning is unethical, hands down. The monster/clone is an example of what happens when cloning/hacking goes awry.

Hmm.
The plot certainly thickens. You obviously gave a lot more metaphors regarding the 'Eris' concept which we saw in the previous chapter. I think you need to make it clear that it's Kotone's sprite being moved rather than the actual person herself, I know you used the courier new as text but it's still a little confusing - not too much, but I'll still think you'll benefit from it. The chapter was very good at establishing backstory but I feel it was a little fast in places - especially considering the monster's change of heart and how they viewed the situation. I feel as if we should have more time to properly 'digest' it.
Otherwise, this was a solid chapter which goes far in introducing the mystery of the story and giving us motiviations for mc.monster himself.

You'll find that single-word chapters are from the monster's perspective. We're going to learn a lot about the monster very soon-- this is just a taste. Also, I'm going to polish that up once the Awards are over!

does, because I have no idea what it means. The description in the Box is less straightforward, because I'm inclined to think that a 2D world is going to be inherently confusing to a 3D reader, so to speak. I'd hoped that by leaving it a while I might come up with more useful thoughts, but not so. One other sentence I'm not sure about:

FIXED

Maybe the use of "mere" for a longer period of time was deliberate, but it looks contradictory.

F I X E D

This reminded me a lot of the Machine Spirits of Warhammer 40K - computers that have become semi-sentient due to their complexity ... or maybe that's just a metaphor for the human mind as it tries to make sense of what it's neurally linked to. But I think it's appropriate. Humans use metaphors like this all the time, even those humans who know damn well it's literal nonsense.

Oh, and is it too edgy? I didn't feel like it was trying to be edgy, which is my usual yardstick for that.

GOOOOOOOOOOD, I'm glad you enjoyed the faerie aspects! I like to toe the line between "it happened" and "there are greater forces at hand" in The Deprogramming.

Chapter 5, here we go!

This was an interesting one. It's strange, seeing something like game programming be personified to this level, but overall, I think it works. The prose went on fluidly and didn't end up terribly confusing for me at any point; I just had to re-read a few times for the reason that this isn't the type of subject I read about a lot, if that makes sense, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything important.

The friendship mechanic works perfectly here in particular, methinks. You really get the sense of how torn the monster is between wanting to hate Kotone and wanting to love her, and really, it's not all that unrealistic. Not getting the attention you want from someone you love has the tendency to spur some bitter feelings like that. But you do a damn good job keeping realism balanced with game mechanics. Porygon2 conversing with the monster helped the most with said balance, I think, having been in its situation long enough to ask a million questions to the monster, provide it with some information, and point out when things were going awry.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Not just A monster, THE monster.

Seeing that emoji up close is terrifying, I gotta say.

The "unfortunately" part made me laugh twice as hard. Also, why isn't Rayquaza a Ho-Oh?

Ever so patiently awaiting the cocaine chapter I've been hearing about.

I T I S T I M E

Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists

elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.

–Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes


VI

SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS GOES ‘CRACK’​

Yawning does not exist in video games . . . for some reason. One merely slips into a catatonic state and abruptly slams their head on the desk. It really made Eris appreciate the nuances of the real world. After she and the Scientists had slammed their faces into various hard objects at least twice apiece, something had to be done.

“You’re gonna love this, Eris,” Mitch announced, seconds after the whitish bruising on his own forehead dimmed.

“Huh?”

“It’s time to go grocery shopping.”

If the Scientists thought this was enticing to her, they were in for a rude awakening.

Eris sat there in a plasticky chair, picking at the bloodred R on her Team Rocket uniform. Her fingers released the fabric; it snapped back in place. It had been a couple of days since she was introduced. She looked up at Mitch as he walked by, wholly unimpressed with this olive branch. “Uh,” she hissed, eyes narrowing, “I literally just changed into this stupid outfit. I’m not going outside looking like this.”

“You’re not,” another Scientist —it was Trenton, equally obstinate as Mitch— said, coming around the corner of the chair. A crumpled napkin was encased by his fist. His eyebrows lifted far higher than they should have. “A Policeman would arrest you on sight, and that’d be the end of all this.”

That was a fair point.

I guess I can’t argue with that.

Trenton deposited the napkin in her lap. Eris, mildly curious, opened it and stared at the grocery list’s perfect handwriting; it was indistinguishable from the fruits of a printer. She leaned back, accommodating her farsightedness. A couple of bills slid out from the thin folds and settled back in her lap.

“So, yeah, can you get us about fifteen Soda Pop, a couple of Fresh Water for me and Kurt, a six-pack of Awakening if they’re on sale, and fifteen satchels of EnergyPowder? Yeah, perfect.” He made eye contact with Garett and smirked in preparation for his next statement. “Plenty of leftover money for a Haircut, too.”

“Huh?”

Eris had stopped paying attention about halfway through. She tossed the napkin onto the floor; she’d already memorized the list. The bills went into a skirt pocket. EnergyPowder was something she had never used on her Pokémon, all those years ago.

“What’s that?”

Trenton raised his eyebrows. “Well, Eris,” he began in the most condescending of tones, “a Haircut is when two people—”

Her agog expression unfolded into a cross one. “No, asshole. EnergyPowder.”

She’d fallen for the bait. He snickered at her dismissal, eyebrows frozen with disassociated amusement. “Oh, EnergyPowder? It’s a kinda-expensive white powder that you ingest. Absolutely vile, but it really gives you that kick. Gives me the energy to work for hours.”

The world of Eris came to a screeching halt.

White powder, she thought. Expensive . . . gives you that kick—

Her jaw dropped. Eris thought she knew exactly where this was going. “Wait. Wait.” Her mind swirled in multiple directions. She stood up from the chair, slowly. “Are— are you trying to trick me into buying some cocaine analogue?”

“Wha—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am not buying cocaine for anybody.” Her arms flew out in defense of their almighty owner. She wasn’t going to involve herself in nefarious activities, although it was a bit late for that declaration. “You can’t make me do this,” she reiterated. “I don’t do drugs. And I wouldn’t dare defile my body with—”

“What is cocaine?” Ross cut in. His eyebrows rose even higher above his spectacles.

“It’s exactly what Mitch said,” she snapped. Eris brought her clenched hands up in frustration and shook her head. “And I,” she hissed with eyebrows begging to touch each other, “am not gonna fall for that. Is this hazing or something? I am not buying your Pokécocaine for you.”

Ross and Eris snapped at each other repeatedly, even as Proton shouted at them to be quiet. This vocal conundrum caused quite the reduction in everyone’s productivity. Way in the corner was Kurt; the sprouts of his eyebrows neared each other. He was attempting to fiddle with a Pink Apricorn. He was trying to turn the damn thing into a Master Ball, unbeknownst to the Scientists. The purpose of this is a left as an exercise to the reader.

“Can y’all calm down?” he shouted at the both of them.

“Fuck off, old man.”

If there was one thing Eris could admit to caring about, other than her inalienable human rights, it was her long hair. It had taken her years to get it to the proper length for tying it up and throwing it behind her head, totally out of the way. These fools were trying to upset a delicate balance between her sanity and upkeep. She held out her hands, much like one would do in the presence of children.

“You don’t understand. My hair is perfect as it is.”

Proton, in the corner of the room, held up a knife. At the sight of its sharp edge, Garett’s eyes lit up. A knife was the most perfect, cost-effective solution to their problems. He began nodding. His nod rippled out through the ranks of the other Scientists, until they were all looking at her. Eris didn’t want knife-wielding men of questionable morals anywhere near her.

“I’m not cutting off my hair just to appease you people,” she scoffed.

Ross and Trenton shared a glance at the mention of you people.

She threw out a hand at Kurt, intending to incriminate him. “Hold on a second. How come Kurt doesn’t have to cut his hair? Huh? Look at this old man’s hair: it’s almost as long as mine! You gonna answer that?”

Silence.

Everyone turned to Kurt, awaiting his answer. His frown deepened. He drew his long hair back, tying it up in a bun with an elastic band from his wrist. It looked pretty good, to be perfectly honest: very smooth and cinched with just the right amount of force not to dent the strands. He stared back at Eris over his shoulder, patronizingly, with crossed arms.

“Oh, gimme a break,” she moaned.

“No breaks!” Ross shouted from across the room, emphasizing the importance of that point with outstretched arms.

Eris was not going to be outdone. She unclasped the tiny barrette, staring Kurt down. She fumbled with it, trying to pin all her long hair behind her head. It poured out of her hands relentlessly. Eris swore to herself and ripped the barrette out, wincing as it took some hairs with it. This was a total failure. She tossed it on the floor and brought the heel of her Steel-toed boot down hard.

Crack.

Pieces of the cheap barrette scattered across the concrete floor. Everyone watched uneasily as the various shards, as if they had a will of their own, paused, then crawled closer to Eris. She grimaced at them, shards and men alike. “Whatever. I’ll take your olive branch. I’m sure you’ve got tracking devices all over me anyway, so it’s not like I could escape.”

“Yup,” Proton interjected from afar.

“And, in case you didn’t notice,” she hissed at the men while pointing at the shards, “I don’t wear barrettes. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Silence.

Equally unnerved by this strange turn of events, she stomped out the door and shut it. Immediately afterwards, broken bits of red plastic, as if possessed by sheer vengeance and motherly disdain, slithered under the door. The men heard a loud yelp from behind the metal barrier.

“Aaugh! Fuckin’ programming!”

ON THE SIXTH FLOOR OF THE GOLDENROD DEPARTMENT STORE​

The Awakening weren’t hard to find. The Soda Pop and Fresh Water weren’t much of a challenge either; they were at the top floor of the Goldenrod Department Store. Of course, Eris had spent about ten minutes fumbling with the Vending Machine before it spat out the obscene amount of Soda Pop and Fresh Water. She had angrily scooped them up and shoved them into the pockets of the long coat she was forced to wear.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

The time had come to purchase the kid-friendly equivalent of crack. She couldn’t help but question the legality of this. Was it illegal for humans to consume products made for Pokémon? Was there even an ethics code in this video game?

Beads of white sweat shone on her forehead; one wrong move, and someone would see the red R beneath the coat lapels. She noticed a Policeman eyeing her from afar, standing at the mouth of the entrance. Her bulky coat and nervous airs were like a magnet. She turned and made shaky strides in the other direction.

He squinted and watched her scurry across the tiles toward the river of customers. Just as he was about to sprint off after the suspicious female, an inhuman screech pierced the air. The man looked over and discovered a black-haired teenager beating the absolute shit of out his Sentret. By the time he’d broken the two apart, he already knew the girl was lost to the crowd of consumers.

The Policemen was struck by her strange appearance; he’d never seen a person that looked quite like her.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Eris —by nothing more than dumb luck, emphasis on dumb— had disappeared into the crowd and out into the golden streets. A wave of noise washed over her: voices, doorbell chimes from vendors, obscure cries from Pokémon, whirring vibrations from the Magnet Train as it scooted along a monstrously tall track outside, and a low hum from the building generators. It truly shredded the senses.

Her mind was working, thankfully: she remembered that the Underground held a myriad of trader goods and services. Eris was grateful she was able to remember a couple of things about this damned children’s video game.

She made her way out of the double doors and into the hot, golden streets. Looming buildings cut the visible sky into rectangles, piercing the low-hanging clouds that day, glowing painfully bright when kissed by the sunlight. Each skyscraper must have been thousands of feet high, created without regard for human physics. Faceted windows spilt millions of colors onto the city below.

A breeze, possibly originating from the unusual height of the buildings, encircled her spot, then dashed off. Eris followed the signs. The buildings near the Underground were not nearly as magnificent as the towering, golden spires above, but they held their own charm. Painted a dusty golden color, their brick-laid structures were of a gentle matte finish. She passed by the shockingly red roof of a Pokémon Center. Roofers were toning it down with a thin polish of gold.

It took her about twenty minutes to walk to the Underground. She stepped down through the concrete mouth. The déjà vu was almost painful— meeting Kurt and Proton seemed like a lifetime ago to her addled little mind.

Click, clack.

Eris hoped no one would look at her footwear; Petrel merely gave her a bulky coat before she was teleported away to Goldenrod City, and any fool could see that this was a Team Rocket uniform. She was due for a re-teleportation in about forty-five minutes at a designated pick-up point, out of sight from the Goldenrod Radio Tower.

I can’t believe nobody’s noticed me. Maybe these people are unusually docile . . .

She bled out of the main stream of people and strolled on over to a vendor’s station. It was surprisingly plain, sans a strange weed growing in a planter. A bored-looking medicine woman sat at the center of the table, eyes trained on nothing. She was scratching at her grayed hairline.

The things I’ll do to get out of a video game, I guess . . .

“Hi.”

“Hello, dear.” The woman barely registered her presence. “I sell inexpensive herbal medicine. They’re good, but a trifle bitter. Your Pokémon may not like them. Hehehehe . . .”

“BUY,” Eris said without realizing it. Another statement appeared in her mind, after the image of the infamous item replaced all her menial thoughts.

A very bitter medicine powder. It restores the HP of one Pokémon by 50 points.

“I would like fifteen satchels of your EnergyPowder.” She tried to smile, then scoffed in a valiant attempt to distance herself from the pursuit of powder. “My asshole co-workers wanna experiment with it, I think.”

The medicine lady froze. The placid friendliness drained off her face, replaced with tense suspicion. Her fingers, which had moved with inhuman speed, froze about the powder jar. The individual satchets of EnergyPowder laid in wait, watching Eris intently.

“Experiment, huh? These colleagues of yours . . . they’re not Scientists, are they?”

Eris got a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, no-no-no,” she laughed. “They’re just . . . Super Nerds. Y’know? Our Pokémon just love this stuff.”

She eyed Eris. Eventually, the medicine lady returned to her business. Her deft, wrinkled fingers dashed about the kiosk, finally handing Eris the brown paper bag. The old lady tilted her head, bushy eyebrows rising. “Do you need anything else? Anything at all?”

Frankly, there were plenty of things Eris needed. But there were no more relevant questions on her mind.

The old lady somehow knew this. “Come back again!”

Eris, still uncertain whether or not she just bought glorified cocaine for a bunch of Scientists, made a tentative walk down the Underground. The medicine woman eyed her from afar. Eris, sighing, let her eyesight slide from side to side, analyzing everything in its way. Everything was perfectly in place, including the haircut man’s stall. It was a freshly-painted emerald color and the shelves were overflowing with various bottles of exotic hair potions. The emulsified perfumes permeated the atmosphere. She sucked in heady scents through her nostrils.

I guess I might as well follow through with that haircut. My split ends are looking awful.

The man running the counter smiled at Eris in a perfectly-programmed manner.

“Welcome! I run the Pokémon Salon! I’m the older and better of the two Haircut Brothers. I can make your Pokémon beautiful for just ¥500. Grooming gives a better look. Your Pokémon will become friendlier and more beautiful. Would you like me to do that?”

Silence.

“Uh,” Eris began astutely. “Can I, like, get a haircut for myself?”

The man blinked. “Ah, of course! What style would you like to match that cute little face of yours?”

Her eyebrows pinched together. She brought up her hand and held it above her shoulders, completely flat. The various items in her pockets clanged together. “Enough,” she stated, irritation mangled in favor of pleasantries, “that I can still put it in a ponytail. Make sure it’s perfectly even. Oh-kay?”

“Gotcha.”

Eris sat down in the chair, shook her hair out over her shoulder blades in the most flippant of manners, and settled in place. The hair followed en suit. Her eyes settled on the perpendicular wall. The man’s hands went straight for those luscious locks. The man fanned out a sheet of hair between his fingers. He eyed it for a few seconds, barely swinging the scissors around a finger, and nodded to himself. He went straight to work.

Snip, snip.

“Ah.” The scissors in his hand paused. “Gimme just a second, you’ve got a barrette in the way, ma’am.”

Eris froze. She touched her left temple and found the barrette happily settled in place. What the fuck, she mouthed. She came back to her senses with great disdain. “Just get rid of it,” she snapped. “Throw it away. I don’t care.”

“Uh . . . alrighty.”

The man unclasped the barrette and threw it in the trash can. The barrette sat at the top of the trash pile, in the midst of a surprisingly wide spectrum of hair strands. It seemed to watch Eris the entire time. Eris glared at it as the man tossed sheets of hair around her face, thinking of smashing it with her boots yet again.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand this world . . . but it looks like it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve gotta fit it just long enough to escape.

Her new hairstyle began to take shape, crafted by expert hands into a straight-edged cut at chin length. He made small talk that she largely ignored during the cutting process. The flippy ends of her hair settled in place with a delightful permanence.

“All done!”

Maybe I’ll get out of this alive.

Eris looked a little happier.

INSIDE THE RUINS OF ALPH​

The Director of the Radio Tower was teleported in approximately one foot higher than the ground-level. With a clatter of dress shoes, he steadied himself against the solid ground beneath him. The single Poké Ball on the inside of his coat rattled, jostling the space-time ever so slightly. He squinted through the murkiness at thousands of eyes. It was the Unown— and, yet, something more.

“That’s never been funny, you know. I’m gonna break a leg one day.”

L M F A O

The Director dusted himself off and walked on over to the starving eyes. His footsteps echoed in the stony cathedral of the Unown. “I don’t know what to make of this, UNO,” the Director sighed at last.

UNO was a hivemind, you see. It also had a very bad attitude. It existed because of a mere PokéDex entry from Platinum: When alone, nothing happens. However, if there are two or more, an odd power is said to emerge. That odd power was something called UNO.

But UNO had a problem on its metaphorical hands, and that’s why it called in its partner.

G O O D A F T E R N O O N !

“Don’t play around with me,” the Director snapped, knowing UNO never used formalities unless it needed something. “You need to stop interfering with whatever you’re broadcasting. I’ve gotten complaints about you ruining all my talk shows. Lay low for now.”

The eyelid of every single Unown drooped; the ! and ? variations drooped their lids even further. UNO didn’t like taking orders from anything.

B U T I H A V E A M E S S A G E

“From whom? I didn’t authorize anything.”

I T

“Don’t be cryptic with me. I’ve had a long day.”

T H E M O N S T E R

The italics were created by literally, physically tilting the Unown to the side. UNO was quite proud of that modification.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “What?”

I T A L K E D T O I T

“You talked to it?”

M H M M

The Director’s eyes widened further. “You’re saying that it went up and talked to you? You’re kidding. Is that why you needed me here?”

M H M M M M M M M

He noted that UNO was still adding onto the original mhmm. That was one of its favorite words. The sass was literally, physically angled toward the Director, who cleared his throat. “It talked to you,” he reiterated in disbelief, looking off. More Unown filled his vision.

Y E P

“But it never talks to anybody.”

A Hidden Power attack seized the Director. It was weak this time. UNO’s surprisingly gentle psychokinetic touch led him to a visual of the lowest floor of the Ruins of Alph. Nothing moved. Then, without warning, a gooey black liquid phased up through the floor. A serpentine monster with wide eyes bumped its head on the ceiling; it grimaced as the goo stuck to the stone.

“There it is,” he mumbled to UNO. His eyes were completely white, sans pupils. “There really is something out there with enough power to end the world.”

N O T M U C H P E R S O N A L I T Y L O L

The Director watched the memory, analyzing everything he could about this strange creature. There were rumors about the damned thing. Rumors of untold power. It was a shy creature, something more than a silly little Pokémon. Something less than eager to—

B U T ! ! ! ! !

“Huh?”

W H A T A B O U T H E R ?

“Who?”

T H E G I R L

The image of the monster dissolved away. UNO presented an image of a short female getting a Haircut. Snippets of black hair littered the ground. They both watched as her annoyed expression softened ever-so-slightly. For someone getting a free pampering service, she looked positively miserable. This intrigued UNO and the Director alike. A barrette in the trash can crawled closer to the lip while she was turned away.

“Oh. Her.” The Director, eyes indifferent to the Unown swirling around his face, shrugged. “I still can’t figure out that girl’s Trainer Class.”

I T H I N K T H A T M O N S T E R W A N T S H E R

He raised an eyebrow, letting his eyelids droop. “Her? The one who joined Team —I’m so sorry, the Rhododendron Institute— in the most blasé way possible? Right in front of the Underground?”

M H M M M M M M M M M M M M M M

“Why would it want her? I’ve already been watching her, so—”

S H H H H H H

“Pardon?”

T A L K ! T O ! H E R !

“I’m going to. Just give me some time.”

K

“Look, there’s not much we can do. Okay? We’ll just keep an eye on her.”

UNO released him from the Hidden Power attack.

The Director shrugged. He meant that in the most literal sense. The Unown were like a giant surveillance system, for lack of a better term. They combined the power of artificial intelligence with the sheer belligerence of it gone rogue. The Director motioned at a S Unown and pointed in the general direction of Goldenrod City.

“You. Go track down that girl. Just keep an eye on her. We’ll talk later. Stay tuned to the Tower and we’ll give you further instructions.”

The single Unown had no reaction, until UNO ejected it from the hivemind. Its pinprick pupil vanished into the white sclerae. It blinked and froze, then dropped a few feet in the air. The Director darted over and caught the S Unown in his arms, just barely in time. He cradled it like a baby. The S Unown blinked; its innocent-looking pupil fluttered back into existence a few times. It stirred, chittering with radio frequencies far below the man’s hearing.

“Goo-ood morning,” he sang in his perfect radio voice, patting the rim of its eye, encouraging the larger, original pupil to slowly reform. “We’ve got something very, very peculiar to investigate. I think you’ll like it.”

The single Unown blinked. It chirped at a frequency far above the man’s hearing range.

MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE MAIN OFFICE OF THE HEADQUARTERS​

“Um, it’s pretty obvious that this person isn’t a Scientist.”

The female in the photograph seemed incapable of smiling. A red barrette clung onto her black hair with incredible tenacity. It stood out immediately from the grayed strands. Her personality seemed as warm as the dark circles cupping her cold, dead eyes.

The lady pinching the tiny photograph with crimson nails —not a mere red, mind you— was everything that Eris wasn’t. She was tall, for that matter, and not a complete asshole: only a partial one. Thick lashes, gradated out from dark red to black, sprouted about her pupils. She knew how to modulate her personality to fit the male egos around her. It was a teeter-totter dance of both art and science, frankly. Her name was Ariana, and she was known as the third of the Executives. Ariana put the tiny photograph back on the table.

“You codenamed this girl,” she paused to glance down at the paperwork, “Eris? Right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed, flipping onto a new page. “You wasted one of the coolest names we’ve got? What’s her real name?”

Of course, that was the main question at hand. And, by proxy, the main problem. Petrel averted his eyes in advance.

“Petrel? Is something wrong?”

He looked at the ceiling, rocking on the heels of his boots. “We-ell, yeah. There’s a shit-ton of problems with this girl. She,” Petrel paused to laugh a bit, “actually thinks she’s Miss Kotone. This girl’s absolutely, positively convinced that she’s the protagonist.”

Ariana deadpanned at him. “Oh, great. Wonderful.” She groaned and leaned up against her propped hand, staring at the dusty, concrete wall. “Why the fuck did Kurt do this to us?” she snapped all of a sudden. Ariana hissed to herself, rubbing her eyes, then sighed. “Okay,” she began, releasing the pressure on her eyeballs and settling them back on Petrel. “Hit me with it. I’ve heard all the whisperings about this girl. How come Kurt demanded we take her in?”

“She’s said a lotta things that scared him. Like seeing that monster. And talking to it— I kid you not.”

A stunned silence developed between them.

“. . . Oh, shit.”

Ariana tried to hold her composure, but the latter outburst belied her fear. They all knew a couple of things about this monster of mythical proportions, but, that’s beyond the scope of this conversation. This revelation changed everything.

“And y’know what bothers me most?” Petrel asked, rounding out the end of that silence. “Kurt says he saw it too. Matter of fact, he heard it talk to her. So, you kinda see where I’m going with this. If she’s right about that monster . . . then maybe —just maybe— she could be right about some of those other crazy things she’s been saying.”

Ariana bit her lip, unnerved.

“Kurt’s got a point. If we didn’t take her in, she’d be raving along the streets of Goldenrod City, screaming ‘bout a monster. That’s the last thing we need,” he concluded. “It’s not ideal, but it’s all we got. I’m afraid we need this lunatic.”

Silence.

Ariana shifted about in the seat. She was dying to change the subject. “Well, let’s come back to that topic a little later. Okay? What about that project the Scientists were working on? New Frontiers? How’d it go?”

“Yeah, well,” Petrel said with a cringe, “that totally failed.”

Ariana’s eyes left the wall and settled on him.

“The readings just cut off.” Petrel shrugged. “We don’t know why. I went down there and asked Proton what happened, but he’s just as confused as the rest of ‘em. They’re guessing it hit a wall. Literally. And that’s not the worst part, ‘cause—”

“Goo-ood morning, Goldenrod City! It’s going to—”

His flinch was almost audible. “Turn that shit off,” Petrel cut in, louder than the radio man.

Click.

Ariana muted the radio on her desk. She breathed a sigh of relief as the talk show devolved to nothingness. Ariana placed her forehead on the desk. The blurry metal surface didn’t do much to chill the panicky flush on her face. “Petrel,” she began gently. She took a deep breath. “You and I both know that if we don’t get answers pretty damn soon, then we might as well . . . y’know.”

“Give up? Try convincing your boss-man, not me.”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The radio cackled to life, startling the two of them. Ariana turned her head toward it and glared behind dark, red lashes. She never wanted a radio in her office.

BACK IN THE CENTRAL LABORATORY​

“Proton?”

“Huh? What d’you want?”

“All of that nonsense from Eris has really gotten me thinking,” Mitch confessed. He scratched his nose, breath held, trying to propose his question under a scientific guise. “I have a question that’s been bugging me. Just bear with me. What would you do if you, uh,” he faltered, battling the ridiculousness of the oncoming question, “actually met Miss Kotone?”

“Uh,” Proton paused with a spaced-out look, holding that uh note. He blinked once. “I’d, like, give her a firm handshake? I think?”

“Is that all?” Mitch asked, genuinely surprised. “I asked Garett and he claims he’d ask her to sign his face.”

Proton was a bit taken aback by that mental imagery.

“Well, yeah, I guess I’d just shake her hand. I don’t really have much to say to her.” The semi-wistful look on his face devolved into a grimace. “Although we’d have to force Eris to meet her, just so she’d shut the fuck up about how she’s really the protagonist.” He rolled his eyes, snorting. “But let’s be realistic here, Mitch. That’s physically impossible.”

“What? Eris keeping her mouth shut?”

Proton scoffed in approval. “You need to get back to work, Mitch.”

The two men laughed, then went silent.

Mitch couldn’t help it: he sighed. He fiddled with a set of calipers under a self-inflicted silence. He wasn’t going to admit it to his fellow men, but . . . something about Eris made him uneasy. He tinkered with the dial, tightening and loosening it, buying time.

“Y’know,” he began again, “I’d give anything to meet the real deal. And I’d ask so much, too. Think about it: who is she? What is she? Man, she has to be a goldmine of information,” he mused aloud. He finished tinkering and began to wash a thin, oily film off his hands at the sink. “Think about it, though. Whoever, whatever she is, worlds away . . . I can’t help but wonder. What could she be thinking about right now?”

Eris kicked open the doors not a moment later, swearing about something called cocaine.

Spoiler: FUN FACT

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We're going to learn about that mysterious glittery liquid next, in "Glitter Glue"!

 

[Arkadelphiak]

Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.

―Robert A. Heinlein


VII

GLITTER GLUE​

With enough work, you can romanticize a life of crime. A greater tenacity is required to romanticize laboratory life.

Eris was touching the red barrette on her hair, mystified. She’d just gotten rid of it an hour ago and yet, there it was. She’d broken it, battered it, burnt it, and yet, the finish was decidedly unmarred. It stood strong against the wiry black hair it clasped. Its pre-programmed tendencies couldn’t be stopped by anyone, much less herself, she ascertained with a sigh.

“This is not good,” she mumbled. “Like, at all.”

“I’m so glad we had to hire this expert,” Eris’s least favorite person had to add, talking into the hand covering his face. He glared at her, between his long fingers, from the other end of the table. That man really had it out for her. He muttered obscenities on the inside, shifted his leg and laid its ankle over a kneecap, then crossed his arms.

She took the hand down and crossed her arms in response, nose wrinkled in disgust, then eyed the scene in front of her.

They say good things come in small packages. A very large package was sitting on their table, staring back at Eris, as the Scientists buzzed about the laboratory, scooping up tools and notepads. Trenton and Gregg gripped silvery scythes and blinking metallic jars. A concerned citizen had sent in a shipment of— well, those assholes wouldn’t tell her exactly what it was.

“So, boys,” Eris drawled, slapping her clipboard down on the tabletop.

It clattered and startled the nearest Scientists. Garrett glared at her and resumed snapping on a pair of gloves. A couple of Scientists traded looks. This was far from your ordinary scientific endeavour.

“What’s inside your scary box? The meaning of life?”

“Yes,” Mitch said without a trace of his usual humor.

Her eyebrows lifted by a normal amount. A couple of Scientists, on the contrary, lifted their eyebrows thrice as far, all thanks to the EnergyPowder. She grumbled about unnecessary secrecy and locked eyes on Proton’s uncharacteristically-large pupils. Everyone except our resident purist had enjoyed some EnergyPowder.

“Just think like this,” Proton cut in, sighing over his still-crossed arms. “It’s liquified entropy.”

Her weary eyeballs nearly ejected themselves from their sockets at his barbaric treatment of basic human science. Had she partaken in the offering of EnergyPowder, they would have done exactly that. “I’m gonna restrain myself from angrily correcting you, so consider yourself lucky. Yeah, liquified entropy. Su-ure.”

Proton’s default glare intensified. The green in his irises was almost too intense to look at. “It bleaches the life out of anything, you stupid fuck. So . . . if anybody drops this, I’m pushing you into the spill,” he said, raising his voice for the rest of the room.

“Count me in,” Kurt added. He averted his eyes.

Proton raised an eyebrow at Kurt and returned to his mortal enemy. “What makes it so dangerous, Eris, is that it holds infinite possibilities. Dropping the container and shattering the containment vessel could mean anything. Anything. The air could spontaneously ignite. All the color in the world could vanish. More likely than not, it’ll probably go out of its way and kill us all very, very slowly. D’you get what I’m saying?”

She raised both eyebrows right back.

“Don’t fucking touch it, Eris.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled.

Mitch, noticing his cue —a swift nod— from Kurt, took out a box cutter from a coat pocket much, much smaller in size. He went for the taped-up box on the tabletop, in full view of Eris. He grinned at her, eyeglasses flashing for a moment. “Any guesses to what the meaning of life is, Eris?”

“Nope.”

Ri-i-ip.

Right there, beneath the box flaps and contained inside multiple transparent, glassy drums, was a liquid. But not just any liquid, mind you. It shimmered with all the colors of the visible and invisible light spectrum. Pinpoints of color boiled on the inside— it was the same saliva-like fluid she once saw dripping from that monster’s gooey, old jaws.

Her petite jaw dropped in response.

ONE SCREAMING MATCH LATER
​

The Scientists nearly needed to bust out a tranquilizer to force a screeching Eris to leave the room. She had screamed and thrashed, telling them that they were messing with a monster. It took three Scientists to hoist the small female out of the room and one Golbat to keep her situated in time-out. Luckily, Proton’s eagerly-dispensed threat of Confuse Ray was analogous to tranquilizer. One of the Scientists, feeling sorry for his role in this conundrum, had left a can of his personal Lemonade stash next to her.

Those men had forced a reaction out of her with that . . . what was it?

Glitter glue?

Honestly, satanic glitter glue was the only way Eris could describe it. The fluid seemed almost alive. Like concentrated immiseration, hellbent on stripping all forms of perfection from the universe; not only that, but it had the power to end the world, too. And she remembered that monster producing it like saliva— involuntarily, apparently. But what did all of this mean?

“Eeeeeek!”

“Quiet, Feiruz. I’m not going anywhere.”

Now seething in a corner of smaller lab hours later, Eris began to accept that everyone had been watching her reaction. These men were hiding something from her. Something otherworldly. And the great Kotone Iwamatsu was not going to be sidelined by a bunch of Scientists from a children’s video game.

Recall that human stupidity trends toward infinity in nature.

This meant that Eris had to get a better look at that glittery stuff. She was going to get to it even if it killed her. Blowing up the can of Lemonade in her hand was more likely to kill her, honestly. And that was exactly what she planned to do— sans dying. She tossed it into the sterile air, letting it spin a few times, and caught it. The can’s lukewarm finish poked through her stiff fingers, offering nothing but deadweight.

“Wanna help me fuck up these fools, Feiruz?”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

. . . Maybe blowing this thing up for a distraction is a bad idea.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was a horrible idea. Nearly as bad as listening to a talking Nintendo DS on a dark night.

“Well,” she murmured, “you’re going to help me whether you know it or not.” She turned to Feiruz, eyes sparkling with internal mirth. “You’re so cu-ute,” she simpered with a love-struck sigh. Eris scratched the scruff on his head and continued the cooing.

Feiruz closed his eyes, purring. This sudden change of heart was pure bliss in his eyes. He didn’t care where it came from.

“Would you like some Lemonade?”

Rather than waiting for a squeak of approval, she cracked open a lukewarm one with that big boy and held it up to his perpetually-open mouth. She slung a line of Lemonade past his fangs. Feiruz gargled it in surprise as it hit the back of his huge throat, then swallowed the liquid. Eris resumed scratching him on the head, smiling.

“You’re such a good boy!”

She scooted past his wingspan, arm still stretched and holding its place on his scruffy head; she then stopped the scratching and reeled her arm back in, now completely behind Feiruz. He opened his eyes, expecting more loving scritches, and was thoroughly confused.

“Eeeek?”

“Heh. I’m right behind you, Feiruz.”

He leapt up three feet into the air with a screech and cupped the air via his wings. Feiruz flapped a few times, gaining thrust, and spun himself around. He had a confused look on his face. He was supposed to be smarter than this! His beady eyes narrowed at Eris. The ominous gurgle of Confuse Ray began to emanate from his throat.

“No-no-no, just wait a second,” she cautioned, her palm presented to him in deference.

Feiruz cocked his head, the attack not wholly dissipated. The Lemonade was having a pacifying effect on his mind.

“I think,” she began with a pointer finger raised, as if a divine truth came over her, “I know where some . . . treats are. I think Proton’s been hiding them from you.”

“Eeeeek!”

As it turned out, the usage of treats was her golden ticket. Bat Man’s pupils doubled in size. He froze, pulling his wings back down slowly, and fluttered to the ground. The suddenly-starved Golbat trembled. The promise of treats was a near-universal pastime.

Feiruz got in her face with a toothy smile. Eris blinked and tilted back, trying to keep the Golbat’s blurry face in range. He had no concept of farsightedness.

“EEEEEEEEEeeeek!”

Eris winced and mouthed ouch, holding onto her ear.

He gazed deep into her eyes, wings tucked against his body, and purred to himself. He loved being the center of Eris’s attention. He then waddled right on out the door, sniffing the air for the hypothetical treats.

Eris couldn’t believe her luck.

She followed him out the door. Her belt contents clanged with each movement. Her palms were white with sweat. She scampered down the hallway with her heart scrambling for a steady rhythm. It took a few minutes, but she guided Feiruz over to the room where the glitter glue was contained.

“Here’s the door of treats,” she whispered. Eris held her hands up at the passcode panel, shrugging. She hoped Feiruz would pick up on the visual cues. “I don’t know how to get in. But, y’know, I think they have treats in here, buddy.”

Yet again, treats was the magic word.

Feiruz took one of his clawlike feet and held it up to his chin, about a foot away from his eyes. He stood there in deep thought for a few moments. Placing the foot back down, he drew out one of his immensely long wings and held it up to the keypad. He motioned to five different keys in sequence, repeatedly. He didn’t understand the motions, but he’d seen Proton do it hundreds of times. He was such a good, smart boy.

696969

Eris just stared.

“. . . Oh-kay, then? I guess these guys have no originality.” Grumbling to herself that she could have guessed that passcode without help, she punched in the numbers and held her breath.

Click.

The door unlocked with little fanfare. She swung it open and shut it fast— Feiruz barely made it inside in time. His pupils dilated. “Eeek!” he cried with delight, stretching his gargantuan mouth taut and readying himself for deliciousness. It was time for treats!

Silence.

Eris, now squatting in front of the container in the middle of the room, could barely breathe. Her heartbeat thumped in the room’s dark stillness. A small drum, still shrouded in low light, stood before her. A little tremor went through her body.

Maybe I’ll get some answers this time.

The glitter glue made a low rumbling sound that reminded her of a train picking up speed. The air pressure fluctuated. The pinpoints of light inside spun in a soupy fashion, still clumped together. She put her gloved hand on the glassy drum’s surface. An identical palmprint, made of the glittery fluid and attracted by her information, formed and pressed against the opposite side of the glass.

“Are you alive?”

It wasn’t. It was mere physical phenomena. She made gentle coaxing motions with her finger, signing come hither. The motion separated out the thickest bits of the gorgeous, glowing stuff. It came closer to her outstretched finger. It wanted to leave the containment device. The liquid made an excited little sizzle as it cavitated.

Plip, plop.

As for Feiruz, there was nothing edible in the room— Eris would have made a bitter treat anyway, had he decided to taste her.

Feiruz, on the other end of the room, was still sniffing out treats. He eventually came to the conclusion that his newest best friend had lied to him. Thus, she dropped from the top of his list of favorite people, but still above Proton. He pouted in the corner at low frequencies, cursing humans and their weird proclivity toward breaking treat promises. His eyeballs made their way over to the girl. He squawked upon noticing the liquid. He flattened himself against the wall in terror.

“Eeeeeeek!”

But Eris wasn’t paying any attention. She put her fingers on the lid, then paused.

What will happen if this glitter glue gets out?

Feiruz hissed at it from afar, shuddering. His beady eyes looked bloodshot and infinitely deep in the lowlighting. No, they said. That is bad. Bad-bad-bad-bad—

She unscrewed the crude container and placed the glassy, transparent lid on the ground. A smell like burnt marshmallows overtook the room. The glittery substance, now coaxing itself out of the jar and eating at the air, defied the pre-programmed law of gravity. Slowly, but surely, it undulated and spun within a fixed radius, much like a cobra being charmed out of a clay pot, worlds away.

“Hi there.”

She put out her right hand, as if in introduction.

“I’m Er— Kotone.”

But this was no living thing. The liquid neared her outstretched fingers, eager to wipe them of all their life. Eris pushed out her hand, foolheartedly thinking she was making some sort of breakthrough.

A single droplet, unbounded by adhesion, made contact with a single finger and slid past her glove fibers. It trickled down her finger and into her palm. Eris tried to shake it off. She frowned and degloved the fabric hiding the liquid; she gasped, realizing it was boiling the outer layer of skin. The skin flickered; white noise danced along its surface. She felt a huge amount of pressure in her ears—

“The fuck’re you doing?”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeek!”

Eris spun around to see Proton and Garrett emerging from the doorway. Garrett, with a terrified expression, slapped at the emergency button on the wall. He slammed his fist into it and the lights came on. A red light flashed slowly, illuminating the room, then went dark. It churned up a steady rhythm of flashes in a split-second.

“Oh, shit,” Eris managed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Proton shouted, coming at her. Half of his face was silhouetted in red light.

Knowing she had little time to escape, Eris flung open the nearest exit and ran for her dear, worthless life. The incoming, bluish light shone over the photosensitive substrates resting in the room. They sparkled with malice.

The glittery liquid shuddered as Garrett ran toward it, grabbing the lid off the floor in one fluid motion and slamming it shut with a clang. It would have to wait another day— but it would get its finest hour someday.

“Fuck!”

Running around a random hallway didn’t help, as expected. Eris, with that glove flapping about the fingertips of her ruined hand, found herself cornered by an EnergyPowder-fueled Proton. His pupils had taken over his irises. She backed away slowly, hands braced against the concrete wall and livery behind her. A smear of weak glitter glue desaturated the wall it touched, unbeknownst to them both. The bright lights behind Proton loomed ahead. A hand caught her; the grip bit at her thin skin. Without waiting for a response, Eris was hastily dragged away, out of sight and out of mind. Had Proton been going for more of a comedic effect, he would have hoisted her up by her neck; instead, she was stumbling across the floor as the tow line turned the collar into a noose.

“Shit, shit, shit— aaug—”

In a moment of clarity, she slid the glove back on without him noticing.

Proton, now free of prying eyes, paused mid-stride, looking off to the empty hallways. Eris, still reeling with momentum, bumped into his back.

“Ooh!” he exclaimed. “I know what to do. You won’t listen to humans. But Pokémon?” he wondered aloud, then looked at her. “You’re our special little pseudoscientist. Of course! I know who you’ll listen to!”

With a yank, her muscles elongated painfully as they were swung to and fro through hallway turns. Her boots stubbed and scuffed up the floor. “No!” she screeched again, starting to press against his shoulder, trying to free herself. It made it harder to breathe. “Stop it! Stop it right now—”

Grunts that passed by took no concern, only quick glances aside. They passed multiple corners and began to disappear from sight. Any remaining Grunt wouldn’t even hear her screams. Knowing better than to struggle, she gave him the most hateful look she could muster. His eyebrows actually rose in surprise.

“Sorry, girlie, I’ve gotta teach you a lesson.”

“No.”

“I guarantee my method is way more fun than Ariana’s. I can do whatever I want to you, then just get Ariana to take care of the rest. Brilliant!” Proton cackled. He got a light in his eyes. “Ooh, we’ll all have so much fun,” he sighed, smiling with a kind of delight that made her stomach drop.

We’ll all have fun? Who’s he talking about?

Eris was towed to a fairly small room with five concrete walls. He threw her down on the concrete floor and bolted the door shut. She stood up, thinking he was planning an interrogation for information he wouldn’t believe, but it seemed more like an execution as the questions never came.

“Stop!” she shouted, then backed up against a perpendicular wall. “You stop this right now!”

The empty air mocked her. The only exit was behind his crossed arms.

“Nope. I have to do this. It’s for the greater good, y’know?”

Proton snapped a capsule off his belt and depressed its center to enlarge it. An Ultra Ball was shifted around in his hands, meticulously. “This,” he said with a pause to hold up the Ultra Ball, “is my good friend Gauss.” A foreboding smile began to grow. “Gauss isn’t nearly as nice as Feiruz, who ―mind you― is locked up in that room so he can’t intervene. He likes you too much. It hurts my feelings.”

Her premonition was screaming. Anxiety settled in the very information of her being. Her hands and legs began to quiver with nauseated fright.

He clicked the Ultra Ball and dumped its contents out on the floor. Eris felt her flight instincts take over and flattened further against the wall. The red light melted into a bulky quadruped. A growl shook the room as its source became more opaque. When the beast finally materialized, she found herself transfixed in fear and reflected in a pair of bright red eyes.

“Why don’t you talk to Gauss about what you just did? Maybe it’ll understand you.”

What’s gonna happen if I get killed in here? Will I dissolve into nothingness?

The Metagross lumbered forward, picking up speed and slamming a clawed limb into the wall, less than a foot away. Eris shrieked like a little girl and sped behind it, seeing as that was the only solution. Gauss rotated itself in front of her face with its deathly cold stare.

Eris slowly backed away with her palms out. “Please don’t hurt me,” she stammered. “Oh, please don’t hurt me.”

Gauss put on a wicked attempt for smiling. Eris was so petrified that it snatched her within its claws with ease; it slammed her into the wall with just enough control so that she wouldn’t become a bloody smear. Eris tried moving around and found herself pinned tighter by the claws. Gauss starting growling and an electrical burst made her fall limp.

What a considerate pet it was.

“Stop!” she cried, jaw pressed against her collar. The fringes of her newly-cut hair clouded her face. “Stop it!”

Proton, with his hands clasped behind his back, took a slow walk over toward them with a smile. He patted Eris on the head sarcastically.

Her mean look was tainted with terror. “Stupid motherfucker,” she snarled. “I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I’ll—”

“Ha! You have no fucking idea how much you deserve being stuck to the fuckin’ wall.” Proton leaned right into her face, until she could feel her sweaty heat radiate off him. He rolled his eyes back into his head. “So sit there and tell me how evil I am an’ shit, but you are not leaving until you understand what you just did. You almost got everyone killed.”

“Then enlighten me,” Eris hissed. Her bloodshot eyes throbbed with the pressure from Gauss.

He smiled, eyes returning to normal, excluding the effects of the EnergyPowder; Proton had taken two doses. The two of them really needed this sort of unbalanced repartee. “Oh-kay,” Proton simpered. “Let’s start simple: you don’t know what you were fuckin’ around with, do you?”

“Are you talking about that glitter glue?”

Proton frowned at the sudden nomenclature. “Yes, that glitter glue,” he sneered. “You have no fuckin’ idea what it even is, do you?”

“Not at all.”

A wicked smile hiked up the faint wrinkles on his face. “Then that confirms it, Eris. You’re no Scientist. A real one would be able to instantly recognize what this shit is. This stuff is just so obvious.”

“I—”

“Y’know,” he began haughtily, “you’re just a tool to us. Once we’re done with you, we’ll wipe your memory of the past few months and you’ll be on your way. You’ll be back to being a placated citizen of Goldenrod City, enjoying your Incense and Lemonade and shit. You won’t remember a thing about me.”

I’m not from here, you dense fucker.

Without warning, Gauss slung Eris across the room, wholly enjoying the resulting scream.

“Gauss! Dammit! I didn’t tell you to throw her!”

Eris hit the floor and slid on her back, then sailed into the wall. The jarring deceleration made her head spin. She felt a scrape break through the back of her neck and the stickiness of white, hot blood eek out.

“Gauss,” Eris saw an upside-down Proton chastise it with a sharp tap on its clawed limb. “We’ve been through this before. Hey, hey—”

It came forward, bringing its clawed appendages down with bone-snapping crunches that broke up the flooring. Eris took a moment to imagine herself caught underneath one of those pile-drivers and nearly died of fright. The idea of being crushed into white mist was repulsive.

“Gauss! Your manners!”

It loomed ahead, ready to deliver a stomp. And not just any stomp— one powerful enough to squeeze all her internal information out of her eye sockets. The world seemed to freeze for a second; a solution came to mind. Eris, no longer a candidate for sudden compression, rolled away as it splintered another hole in the floor. For a split-second, she felt a bit braver.

“Your fuckin’ manners!”

Its pupils rolled down to zero in on her. Gauss rumbled. She cried for help, knowing no one would hear her. The bulbous red eye became an angrier shade of maroon. Gauss, with a bit of Psychic control, scooped her up and slammed her back into the wall. Eris’s cries didn’t faze it— she was just a toy. A very loud and squishy toy, but nonetheless a source of amusement.

“Okay!” she screamed at Gauss, nearing death throes. They were meaningless near-death throes, of course.

The two of them glared at each other. Gauss pressed the future loser of the staring contest in further. Her head bobbed down in finality. She yelped when Gauss growled and made the floor vibrate. Eris sniffled and choked on a sob.

“What? You’re done already?”

Eris didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes. Proton, as he walked over, bent down and took care of that for her. He had a quizzical face.

Her face, on the contrary, was contorted with rage, fear, and disbelief. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. She was shaking like nobody’s business. The jitters even made it into her voice. “Fu-uck you. I lose.”

“Oh, dear me.” He traced an imaginary tear from his eye, down to his jawline. “Did it say something mean to you?”

“I—”

His eyes narrowed. “I want you to know that I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you did to brainwash Kurt, but you’re not foolin’ me.” He got closer, eyes widening. “You’re a liar,” he hissed, “and you’re no Scientist.”

“I am a scientist.”

“But that’s not really important. You don’t know why you’re trapped here with good ol’ Team Rocket, do you?” he sneered, with the delight of someone with all the answers; he didn’t have half of them, mind you. The EnergyPowder made him look positively unhinged. “Let’s chitchat.” Proton leaned onto an arm of Gauss, other hand postured in conversation. He fanned out the fingers, thinking about his words. “Firstly,” he began, “you think you saw a monster, don’t you?”

Eris froze. Was he going to tell her everything?

“Yes,” she cried, eyes lighting up. “Yes! It’s the reason all this happened! You’re so right!”

A stifling silence followed.

“Well,” he said, beginning to grin, “none of us believe you. Why would a creature of such mythical proportions be interested in you? You aren’t special. Nobody even likes you.”

He was actually correct. Nobody liked her, in-game and outside included.

“But what you don’t realize, Eris, is that this monster is gonna get us all killed,” he hissed. “That thing isn’t a Pokémon. It’s a catalyst for the end of the world.”

Eris’s complexion paled.

What’ll happen if I die inside this video game?

“Why d’you think we’re fucking around with this stuff, anyway? For fun? Stop trying to personify a walking time bomb.”

Technically, it was more of a slithering time bomb, but the point stands.

“I don’t care what it is,” she snapped, bringing a bit of hot color back onto her cheeks, “all I’m concerned with is getting out of this video game. I don’t care if that monster kills all of you. You’re just pixels to me. Even Kurt— he may have saved me from some stupid conversation with that monster, but he can die with you fuckers as well. He’s no friend of mine.”

Proton frowned. This wasn’t included in the report Kurt gave him— he’d said that he saved her from being eaten by something. He covered this confusion up with another ugly smile; it sidled up his face, wrinkling the thin skin around his dark circles.

“You’re real good at making up stories, I’ll admit.”

But Proton’s thoughts were elsewhere. Was Kurt hiding something from him?

“Aaugh! This isn’t made up!” she screeched. Eris jostled against Gauss, which was about as successful as one would expect. After making a fool of herself, she glowered back at Proton. “I want you to tell me everything.”

“No.”

The fury split her coherent thoughts in two. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

“I have no family,” he kindly clarified. “I have no identity outside of this letter.” He jabbed a finger in his R, then snapped a fist backward. “Please, puh-lease remind me again.”

Gauss came back to reality at Proton’s tone and pressed Eris further into the wall. Her gasp was drowned out by its growl; she felt her eyes bug out.

“Don’t pop her, Gauss,” Proton snapped, waving his hands at the clawed limb. “This is rude.”

It pulled its palm away, but still not enough to give her any leeway. Gauss, if it could feel anything, probably thought this exchange was amusing. Its eyes kept flicking back and forth between these two delightful individuals, much like a lopsided metronome.

“Thank you,” Eris said with immense reluctance.

“Oh, so you do have manners?” Proton gasped, oozing sarcasm from behind his perfectly-straight teeth. He feigned surprise, complete with hands on his chest. “I’m amazed. You’re on par with Gauss.”

Instead of continuing on, she stared at Gauss’s mechanical limb that constrained her, imagining the muscles within weakening. Of course, Gauss didn’t have any muscles; the thought pattern was as fruitless as one of the pre-programmed trees above the headquarters. She thought long and hard, pulling at her own arms with those putty muscles, so strenuously that she gritted her teeth.

Proton watched her efforts with mild amusement.

“Y’know I wasn’t really gonna kill you,” he admitted. “That would be a serious loss of an investment.”

She glared up at him, then returned her evil eyes to the floor. She stretched her body upwards, hoping to loosen herself. “What? You guys think I’m some kind of miracle worker? ‘Cause I totally am. Just not, like, inside a video game.”

“No, not at all. We think you have some information that could benefit us.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you don’t need to know about that just yet.”

She sighed and pursed her lips. “I hope you don’t think you can pull a stunt like this again,” she said with a torpid stare at the busted concrete. Eris couldn’t move her neck at all, but kept glowering with mortification. She flexed her hands, feeling them slowly come back to life.

“A stunt?” he asked, looking far more confused than he had any right to. “You deserved it. I still don’t know how I’m going to replace those substrates you wrecked.”

Eris froze. She remembered those substrates had glitter glue on them.

“What is that stuff, anyway? The glitter glue, I mean.”

“Well, picture that clear barrel for a second, pretty please. Think real hard this time. Empty that dull mind of yours. Just imagine it—” he waved his hand off in the container’s hypothetical direction, grimacing, “—with a giant crack running down the side. Imagine that liquid seeping through and spilling out, eating through the floor and multiplying in size faster than you can blink. Then imagine it filling the room, eating through the walls, soaking through the entire headquarters and bubbling up onto the overworld.”

Eris just stared back at him. She squirmed in place. Something about that liquid seemed . . . familiar. Like it already had a name.

But the answer was on the tip of someone else’s tongue.

“Isn’t it obvious what this is?” Proton hissed behind shut teeth, sounding almost like that horrible monster for a second. Her ensuing flinch confused him for a second.

“. . . I still don’t understand.”

“Then sit here until you understand what that shit is. Surely someone as brilliant as you can figure this out. And while you do that,” he added, voice softening in a manner that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand taut, “my Scientists and I will work on a solution toward stopping this . . . this glitter glue,” he spat.

But nothing made sense to her.

“Look, I don’t understand, okay?” Eris cried, lower lids brimming with sudden tears, trying a different tactic. She shuddered. “Okay? I just don’t understand because I’m your Kotone. I’m not from your world, Proton.”

He slapped at the light switch and the room plunged into blackness— only the dim, predatory glow from Gauss’s eyes was visible. Thus, his silhouette exited, swinging open the door with a whipping motion, but shutting it very, very quietly.

“No,” she heard him mutter condescendingly, “you’re not.”

Spoiler: F U N F A C T

This is the last of the 'filler' chapters. Shit's about to get real, yo. The plot threads are about to converge . . . with chaotic, asymptotic results.