Chapter Text
It was only with quick thinking that Nevren had survived the first Shadow Blast. Staring at the beam was like going blind. What in the world was he supposed to do against an attack that literally incinerated the reinforced concrete ceiling?! Nevren’s own thoughts had transitioned from befuddlement to terrified incredulity. There was a hole in the ceiling meant to take the Beammaker’s blasts. Its head was large and its neck even longer, with a wide frame and a draconic face. Even with its dark colorings and miasma, something about it was familiar…
Was this Palkia?
“Father?” someone called from the far end of the chamber. “What’s going—AAAH!”
“Keep the door closed!” Nevren called in as casual a tone as he could muster. He considered using a mutant or two as a decoy to get away, but not only was that impractical in terms of how far they were, but he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Eon if they ever recovered him. Along with that, they weren’t going to the Reincarnation Machine anymore. They might actually die, or worse.
What to do next? If he stayed there, he would surely die, which would be troublesome. He could escape, seal this thing inside, and that would at least buy some time to evacuate. Yes, short term, he would do that. Better plan later.
Nevren sprinted away, kicking off of psionically conjured platforms to give him an even greater stride. It was like surfing, only with a lot more death nearby.
With a sudden pivot, Nevren avoided a predicted Shadow Blast that had hit where he was going only a second prior, and then he kicked off the ground to avoid the blast’s turning radius. The blast itself was several times his height; one wrong read and he might not be able to dodge in time.
The draconic Titan couldn’t raise its head fast enough, and its mobility was limited by the portal it was dangling out of. Another advantage for Nevren. With its arms occupied, it could only attack with its head.
Nevren readied his Revisor in case things went south. He didn’t want to know how those Shadowy attacks would feel. They were familiar, yet so much worse than that time in the swamp where Anam had been discovered. And therefore, Nevren knew that this was a more concentrated evil than whatever had been filtered through Anam’s purity.
Why did the air taste of rot?
Another blast forced Nevren to swerve out of the way for a third time and he tried to steady his heart. His breaths were becoming ragged. Panting, he looked down and saw a drop of crimson land on the otherwise pristine floor.
In disbelief, he rubbed the back of his palm against his mouth—his entire hand had turned red.
The very air around that thing was corrosive. The atmosphere around those blasts stripped away at his insides.
Picking up the pace, Nevren dodged another blast and tried to avoid the black haze it left behind, assuming that would only accelerate his death.
The door was closer. Logically, this was true. Why, then, did it feel so far away? He had to hurry. A little more. Now, a nap. That sounded wonderful. However, he knew that, right now, the need to sleep was only death’s call, and he was far too busy to answer.
His psionics were weak. Once solid platforms for boosting his stride had become jellylike in texture, his feet sinking into his own weakened force. His heel brushed against the ground. Accelerated levitation would be even more work, and he could barely concentrate as it was. Could he revise this moment and find a better path? Perhaps. But it was so tiring. He’d already gone nearly optimally with those blasts in the way.
Those blasts had become a lot less frequent. He could hear again, aside from the dull ringing that accented everything else in his senses. Daring to look back, Nevren realized that the thing had company… only it seemed they were feuding with one another—much smaller, emerging from the portal behind the behemoth.
This thing was a lot smaller and more well-composed, but still clearly an amalgamation. Its black body weaved through the air as the titan’s head struggled to keep up with its movements. There was something else in the smaller wraith’s tendrils: a creature of the same variety. Could it be two distinct creatures, or a part of the amalgamation that was trying to break free? Nevren’s curiosity overpowered his need for survival and he stopped when he felt he was a healthy distance away. He didn’t have the energy to keep running. Mostly because he’d tripped and fallen to the floor, but that was irrelevant. What were those creatures doing?
Were they wraiths? They looked so much like them, and yet, they behaved… differently. They were more advanced.
What was Dark Matter doing in that realm?
The Shadow Blasts were all wildly off the mark, but each one left huge scorches and craters in the walls. The smaller wraiths were getting small but meaningful hits against the great titan’s head. But then, one of the Shadow Blasts finally found its mark, and Nevren was certain they were finished—only for a flash of gold cut through the darkness.
Nevren mouthed, “Pardon me?” but his throat, he realized, wasn’t working well enough to actually form the words.
But there it was, gold. Gold, in the darkness! And he recognized that particular glow, too. It was the same color that came from Protect, from Pokémon that had that odd sheen. Owen was among them. Was there a chance…?
Nevren tried to focus his gaze on the battle. The amalgamation, the shape, the movements.
They were winning. They were at an advantage from the giant wraith’s positioning, of course, but they were still winning. They flew too fast for the lumbering beast to keep up. Each counterattack pushed creature further into the portal until it was hanging by the claws—and then, without warning, the smaller wraith darted toward him at bullet speeds. Nevren couldn’t react. He barely had the strength to press the revisor. But he knew that all he needed to do was send a psychic blast toward it to activate it all the same. Or, alternatively, if he died, surely the dead man’s switch would still work. Right?
“Nevren?” said the voice, and a few dark tendrils wrapped around Nevren’s body. He tensed, trying weakly to struggle out of its hold, but he was weak. He tried to speak and only tasted blood.
The smaller wraith on its back said something frantically, but its voice was so warped that he had no idea what it said. And the larger one said something back, and that was just as impossible to comprehend.
To Neven’s surprise—just as he was preparing to wipe away these moments to try again, a great amount of energy channeled into him. With a cold, shuddering gasp, his lungs filled again with air, and he hacked up whatever had been melted from before. He didn’t want to look. The taste was enough of an indication.
And then it dropped him, rudely. He hit the floor and they flew back to the titan, where yet another wraith, this one speedy and flying with seemingly unmoving wings, pushed the titan deeper and deeper into the portal. It sent a few more helpless blasts skyward, scorching and disintegrating more and more of the ceiling.
When the beast’s roars were finally and abruptly silenced, Nevren took a few seconds to recover his composure. The cool air stung his reformed lungs. A welcome feeling. It meant he was alive.
That hadn’t been so bad. A few moments of mortal peril, yes, and he’d certainly get a nightmare or two, but it was nothing he couldn’t move past. More important, though, were the countless notes he’d be able to take from this discovery! How many pages could he fill with just the observations alone? He’d have to prioritize what to explore later.
But then more roaring, more panicked chittering, echoed from the center of the room. Nevren stood to see that the smaller beasts were writhing in agony, their amorphous bodies evaporating before his very eyes. The Dungeon’s twisted dimensions were fading, too, with the closure of the gateway.
Were they not able to exist outside of that realm?
The smallest creature, the one that had used Protect… He was the most solid. He seemed to be panicking for the others, who were fading fast.
Should he flee? No, that wasn’t very useful. There was still more to learn! For example, would they survive if tossed back into their realm? For healing him, it was the least he could do. And more importantly, he had a strong suspicion on who some of those wraiths were.
His Teleport was back in working order. With a flash, a blip, and a few missteps that had to be revised, Nevren stepped over to the control module at the top of the observation deck.
“Now, now,” Nevren called. “I’ll be sure to send you back. Try not to evaporate too rapidly, hm?” Nevren quickly pressed a few buttons, adjusted the charge capacity—there was no need for a large one this time. It would require additional power from the lab, but he would be able to make a small portal.
A few pushes later—their panicked cries were very distracting and not at all productive—the portal opened. Nevren disappeared down and by their sides, where he said, “Well, go on. Take care. I shall try to contact you later. Owen, is that you?”
The smallest wraith said something frantic and Nevren couldn’t discern the words.
“Speak slowly, please.”
With a frustrated growl, the wraith said, “Help me push them in!”
One of them was practically smoke with a vaguely central core.
“Ah. Of course. I shall try.”
With a leisurely flick of his wrist, a Psychic wave gently rolled them into the portal, where the largest one fell first, and the medium-sized wraith fell next. Nevren peered downward even as the smallest one—who looked a little hazy—ran for the portal.
“How will you find us?” the wraith asked.
“I’ll figure it out in time. Take care, Owen.”
The wraith seemed to nod, and then jumped down. The portal closed, and Nevren watched the empty floor for a long while. The notebooks were overflowing with scribbles and sketches and words and ideas.
All in all? This experiment was a grand success.
Hm?
There was something on the floor…
A bag. Interesting.
<><><>
It was a miracle that they had survived, and it left a bitter taste in Owen’s mouth when he thought that it was Nevren who had facilitated it.
Seeing him after so long, after knowing what he had done to Anam, he didn’t know whether to be mad or confused about it all. He still had no answers on what Nevren truly wanted from Anam, or why he had betrayed him. Dark Matter… wouldn’t have lied so specifically about that, would he?
Hopefully he could ask Eon about that later, when they returned. For now, though…
Migami had carried a severely weakened Latias back to the caves, evading detection by Void Titan Palkia. Still, it was nearby, and they had to defeat it. But they couldn’t do that while Latias was unconscious.
After some time, she came to, but then frantically searched her neck and shoulders. “My bag!” she shouted. “Where’s my bag?!”
“Your… bag?” Realization hit him. “Did it fall off during that attack?!”
“I was practically e-evaporating up there,” Latias said. “Did it fall right through me?”
“…Gahi remembers that happened to Trina,” Migami reported. “She evaporated after passing through a gateway, and… then woke up as a Snivy. Demitri and Mispy nearly had that happen, too.”
“I remember…” Latias rubbed her eyes. “I remember it fell on the ground! It was still solid! It’s… it’s still up there!”
“No, the gateway closed,” Owen said. “It’s probably with Nevren…”
“Who?”
“Someone I know,” Owen said, but then quieted down. Another rumble outside. Close. Palkia was close.
“Consider it gone for now,” Migami said. “What do we need to free Palkia?”
“Um… I, what? I thought you knew.”
“Right. Right.” Migami glanced at Owen. “We need a crystal thing for power… And we need someone to draw that power from… Eon was the one who did—” They were missing Eon. But someone else could channel that power, right?
“Crystal?” Latias looked around. “There are a lot of those all over Nil Plateaus and the forests up north. But they aren’t easy to find…”
Migami winced at something, and Owen noticed his vines squeezing the air. “You should split up for now,” Owen said quietly. Migami looked away, ashamed once again, but started the same process as before.
Owen rubbed one of the vines reassuringly, then answered Latias. “I can find them. I know the way once I get close. We just need to—”
The rumbling was getting noticeably louder. Owen still didn’t know how sensitive their hearing was, if they even had hearing, or if all the individual bodies that made it up simply heard… collectively. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“If I concentrate, I might find one.”
“If you want to use it, it needs to be of a type that you’re capable of using,” Latias said.
“What? Type? Like, Fire?”
“One I got was pinkish,” Gahi said. “Felt like Psychic energy.”
“You know a Psychic move?” Latias asked, squinting. “You don’t look very… you know.”
“What’s that supposed ter mean?”
“Um. Nothing. You had a Psychic move?”
“Kinda. Psychic Guardian.”
“I don’t know what that is, or why you’d be one…” Latias sighed. “But okay. And Owen, what types of moves can you use?”
“I—a lot, I think. Metal Claw, so, Steel… I’m the Grass Guardian… Fire, obviously… Pretty much everyone has a Normal technique or two…”
Latias glanced outside, trying to discern where Palkia was. “Let’s try to find one. Owen, I think you’ll be able to use those crystals on your own. They’re part of Necrozma, after all. You might not even need to draw from someone else like you said.”
It was as good a shot as any. “And if we fail, we should fly back to Null Village,” Owen concluded. “Sound good, team?”
“If that’s the case,” Demitri said, “I think we should stay here for now. You guys don’t stray too far, but… we need to recover our strength if we want to fuse again.”
“Mm. Teleport…”
Gahi sighed, grunting. “Yeah. Not gonna be able ter do that if I’m tired. Need ter recover.”
“That’s alright. I’ll fly Owen around and we’ll come right back. If something bad happens, umm…”
“Solar Beam,” Mispy said.
“Oh! We’d notice that!” Latias beamed. “Perfect! Okay, Owen. Ready to go?”
Owen half-nodded, but stopped himself. And he paused, which left Latias looking uncertainly at Mispy and the others.
“Um…” Latias tried to break the silence, but Mispy, Demitri, and Gahi all looked at Owen expectantly.
Could this all be a ruse? What if Latias was still under Dark Matter’s control? And she was waiting for him to be alone, and she’d abandon the rest of his team right then? He couldn’t afford that kind of risk. How could a single touch from his Protect cure her?
“Owen, what’s wrong?” Demitri asked. “You look… stressed, or something. Like you flashed back to something. It’s—we’re still here, alright?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Owen glanced uneasily at Latias. “I don’t know if you’re still under Dark Matter’s control.”
“Oh.” Latias looked down. “Right. That’s… that’s fair. That’s fair. I might not know myself…”
Owen felt rotten. How could he have said that to her? Still, it had to be said. He couldn’t harbor something like that to himself.
“No,” Mispy spoke up. “She isn’t.”
“Mispy, what if your aura sense doesn’t get that?” Owen asked. “You couldn’t tell when Latias first showed up. He can suppress his aura.”
“Don’t need it.” Mispy looked a little more firmly at Owen, practically like she was ready to go off on a lecture. Not that she was wordy enough to get into one.
Owen stared dumbly; was he forgetting something?
“We were, too,” Mispy pointed out.
They were… too? Owen gasped. “He touched you, too.” An icy pit formed in his stomach at first, but then a wave of realization. “Wait, then… why haven’t you tried to abduct me already?”
“Mm.” Mispy smiled.
“Because we aren’t under his control!” Demitri laughed, holding his chest with relief. “You had me going there for a second, Owen. I was ready to tie myself up so I couldn’t hurt anyone! E-especially because, while we were fused, we had some crazy thoughts…”
“You don’t always have those?” Gahi asked.
“I mean, kinda, but they were stronger…”
“Crazy thoughts?” Latias asked.
“Uh, not important. Fighting instinct stuff.” Demitri tried to dismiss it with a wave.
“Bah, talkin’, talkin’, so we’re safe?” Gahi thumped his tail impatiently. “Owen, go with Latias and Mispy’ll keep an eye on yer auras. If somethin’ goes wrong, we know we c’n catch up.”
“Right. Um, sorry, Latias.”
“No, no! It’s fine.” Latias tried to grasp at the bag around her neck, but when she only touched air, she frowned and said, “We’ll be, um, back as soon as we can. Don’t move from here, alright?”
Owen carefully mounted Latias and waved back at the trio. With a little care, they’d be able to get a crystal and take down Palkia. From there, long travel would be a thing of the past…
<><><>
Alexander steadied his aim and fired a beam of darkness into the wall, leaving deep craters in the presumably element-proof material. Seething, blinding rage clouded his vision and his heart thumped in his ears. He visualized ripping that Mewtwo into tiny little pieces, piecing him back together with his dark power, and doing it all over again. Twice, maybe three times. No, that wouldn’t be enough.
Why did he trust him to do this trivial mission alone?
Not only did they escape his clutches, they also attracted Dark Matter to South Null Village. And Aster’s cheerful summary of his complete failure—
Alexander fired another blast into the wall, leaving a deeper crater.
There was no chance that he would catch up in time. Dark Matter was going to claim the source of power first, no matter how much of a dead end it was. This wasn’t a game for resources anymore. It was pride. Dark Matter had defiled his pride. Aster squandered an easy recovery mission. If he had an ounce of logic, he would have razed South Null Village until Marshadow caved and revealed the source.
He should have ordered that outright. But he had been too cautious of Aster’s inability to perform under pressure.
Leph would have been back already. Mhynt, the same. Yet he chose Aster. Why? Why?
Alexander roared and used his central head to blast a hole clean through the wall, revealing another room where a Treecko stood, reading a half-annihilated book. She stared at the empty space where it had once been, and then turned her head casually to Alexander.
Alexander growled. “How long have you been there?”
“Mm, only one blast ago,” she said. With a flick of her wrist, the book disappeared, and the empty husk of a Honedge reappeared. “Tell me,” she added, setting the blade’s tip on the ground and resting her chin on the hilt, “did the mission go well?”
“Do not test me.”
Mhynt hopped over the hole made in the wall and landed in a slow fall. “If this mission was so trivial that you sent Aster,” Mhynt said, “why are you so worked up over it, if I may ask?”
“You may not ask.”
“Mm. Of course.” She craned her neck to meet eyes with him. Her expression was blank, bored, unintimidated. He hated it. She was the one Pokémon who refused to fall in line, yet she still followed his orders. But only because she wanted to. Of course, he could always force her, yet it never came to that. She always complied. Yet why, then, was it so frustrating to give them?
His badge buzzed. He looked to Mhynt, who wasn’t moving. Alexander snorted and spun around. It was from Marshadow. His muzzle crinkled with disgust and he answered. “If this isn’t about turning over that source of power, I want nothing of it, and I will command Aster to start his death count early.”
He’d start diplomatically.
“Well, that power source ran off. Yeh probably figured that out.”
“Then will you be recovering it?” Alexander asked, voice even.
“Figure that’s already gonna happen. Called fer somethin’ else.”
“My time is far more valuable than you’re presuming.” Alexander would raise their taxes in retaliation, maybe send a controlled Titan or two on their town to put them in place. Something to give their defenses a scare. He still needed their resources for Cipher City. “Go on, then. I’ll give you one sentence.”
“Dark Matter says hello.”
The call disconnected.
Alexander could barely hear whatever it was that Mhynt had said after that silence. Some quiet rushing of blood through his head muffled it all. His vision blurred with every second, until he caught himself and took a breath. Calm. He was past this. After holding that breath, he turned toward Mhynt, who was waiting patiently for him, her expression blank.
“It’s probably Owen after all, you know,” Mhynt said.
“Owen…” The very name was like bile in his throat. “The one that refuses to die.”
“And to think, Necrozma himself killed him, and yet he remains. Do you think that was part of his plan, too?” Mhynt tilted her head, feigning innocence.
“Don’t get wise with me. You’d know Necrozma’s mindset far better than I would.” He growled, drifting toward one.
Mhynt stepped toward Alexander and kicked up a pebble, grasping it in her hand. She seemed to be looking at the way his Shadows had broken the stone apart.
“It must be so frustrating,” Mhynt said. “Of Necrozma’s disciples, you only have little old me. And another one is all the way across the Voidlands, probably trying to drink the contaminated water, knowing him.”
“I don’t just have you,” Alexander snarled. “Azelf is effectively—”
“None of them truly listen to you, though,” Mhynt pointed out. “I could try to convince them again, you know.”
“I can’t afford that risk.” Alexander drifted to his desk on the opposite wall. Without Aster there to constantly relocate it, he was actually able to get some work done.
“Mm, speaking of not taking risks,” Mhynt said, like she’d been waiting for him to bring it up.
Of course she had an ulterior motive for approaching him. Always asking for assignments. If he needed something, he’d speak to her, not the other way around. Pest.
“If it is Owen,” Mhynt continued when Alexander didn’t answer, “how do you suppose Aster will react?”
That stopped him.
“They were very good friends, you know,” Mhynt said. “And Aster isn’t very observant. He might not realize until someone says something in the heat of battle. With how unpredictable he is…”
She always knew how to push his buttons, and what he hated more was the fact that she was right. “He’s under orders to return the strongest creature there,” Alexander said. “He isn’t foolish. If he sees Owen, he will know that even if he isn’t strong, he is still valuable. He wouldn’t spare him.”
“Oh, spare him? You’re more merciful than I thought.” Mhynt tutted and ran her empty Honedge blade against the ground. The Treecko went on, “I heard that Leph gave Aster two Wonder Orbs, as he calls them. Blank ones, to his whims.”
“She what?” Alexander snarled. “Why did I not hear of this?”
“Your reaction, most likely,” Mhynt hummed.
“Do not get smart with me.” Alexander drew toward Mhynt, staring her down from his great height. She returned to him that same indifference. “Or would you like to spend a day among the Shadows again?”
A flash of fear. Yes. That would do. Mhynt would never acknowledge it, but he saw it, and he smirked. By the Void, he loved that look. He’d etch that into his mind later tonight. But he had to keep things professional, so he spun around. “Two God Orbs, and the chance it’s Owen. If he gets reckless, Dark Matter will get him first…”
“What are your orders, King?”
With another annoyed grunt, Alexander conceded. “Fine. You’re fast enough to catch up to Aster anyway, I suppose…”
“I think I am going to meet Owen when he returns to Null Village. That is the most likely outcome if Aster panics. I do not think there will be much hope in intercepting them now that so much time has passed.” Mhynt put a finger under her chin, pensive. “I’ll need a motivator, too. I am going to try my hand at convincing that Zoroark to help us again. I suspect she may know Owen.”
“Oh? You’re so sure?”
“The pieces are fitting together,” Mhynt said. “She has a piece of Necrozma’s power in her, too. We’ve seen it. A dim glow, weak psychic powers, levitation… Hmm, perhaps she has a fragment that he had left behind. There must be a link. I will check.”
“Fine. She wasn’t being cooperative anyway, and she isn’t that strong. Do what you want with her. But if you need to kill her, make sure you absorb her spirit.”
“Always,” Mhynt replied leisurely, holding up her blade. “It’s empty, after all. I have plenty of room.”
<><><>
Cipher City’s capitol building had several underground floors carved into the dust and rock that made up the Voidlands’ surface. After only a few stories, solid, impenetrable rock impeded any further progress down. That made deep basements impossible when on the surface, but it still allowed for a few floors to make captive retainment chambers.
Compared to the more polished halls of the surface floors, the underground levels were dull and less refined. No cracks, of course, but they certainly weren’t meant to be presentable to the general public.
Past the cold halls and through one of the doorways, Mhynt entered one of the observation rooms, manned by a single guard. The Swampert had a bag of chips larger than his head on one side and his belly pressed heavily against the desk in front of him. Mhynt grimaced when he wiped his hand on his slimy chest, then licked his fingers.
“Ah-hm,” Mhynt announced.
“Buh?” Lazily, he glanced with one eye toward her. In an instant, he yelped and hopped out of his seat—the most exercise he’d done in weeks, she imagined—and stood with his back straight. “M-Mhynt! A p-pleasure to—everything is safe and secure!”
“Mhm.” Mhynt tapped her blade on the ground idly. Swampert’s eyes followed the blade’s edge. “What is the status of Zoroark?”
“The same as always, sir!” He quickly pressed a few buttons to focus in on the screens, putting one on display, which revealed Zoroark curled up in the corner of a white room. There was a plate of half-eaten food near her. “We’ve been able to condition her perfectly. If she puts on the Nullify Looplet, she gets food. Intelligent ferals are very easy to train.”
“How long did it take to condition her?” Mhynt asked.
“Only a few days. She’s been like this for a while.”
“And there were no security breaches? She is a Zoroark, after all. Why did you not simply attach the Looplet to her so she couldn’t remove it?”
“We tried, s-sir, but she somehow kept taking them off. We had to go with psychological conditioning.”
“Mm. Talented at escape, then. Yet she never left the room?”
“No, sir. Never. Sure, there were a few times where she kept running away from us and took the Looplet off, but that was when the door was closed. There was no way she’d be able to escape.”
“Tell me, were you the one they assigned to chase and capture her, should she escape?”
“No, sir.”
“Why do you think that is?” Mhynt tapped her blade again, then released it. By a dark force, it floated above her and then behind her, completely vertical.
“B-because I’m… not… with the pursuit division. I’m observations. Monitoring. Security.”
“I see.” Mhynt looked at Swampert’s belly. He sucked it in and puffed out his chest. “I’m going to see to it that you get increased access to the castle’s eateries.”
“B-huh?” His gut popped out again, jiggling like an ocean’s waves.
“Yes. Specifically, the healthy foods we serve. I will also be sure to give you access to the recreational and exercise facilities in the entertainment district.”
Swampert gulped. “But, um, but why, sir?”
“Because your physical shape is unacceptable. If Zoroark escapes, you will never capture her. Now, I’m going to be going on a mission very soon. If I come back and I see you are even fatter”—the blade tilted so the light reflected in Swampert’s eyes—“I will remove it myself. Now, go.” Mhynt flipped her hand and produced a card with a note on it, written with dark, shadowy burn marks. “Those are my orders. You can’t forge my scorch writing.”
“S-sir!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving his chips behind.
Mhynt sighed, shaking her head, and then eyed the bag.
And paused.
With a small exhale through her nose, she flicked her hand and pulled a single chip from the bag. It smelled like Cheri. Perhaps Tamato. She always liked spicy. Crunch, crunch…
She snapped her fingers and the chips were engulfed in shadowy flames. Nothing was left behind.
All things considered, she saw why he loved them so much. The flavor gave her a hint of nostalgia, though she pushed the thought away.
Time to focus on Zoroark.
That Swampert had been even more unobservant than she’d thought. Near the very edges of the doorway into the containment chamber, there were tiny strands of fur on the ground. Brown on dark gray didn’t stand out, but someone in observations surely would have noticed. There was always the assumption that Swampert or someone else had gotten into a scuffle with her, but that wasn’t good enough.
No, Zoroark had escaped a few times. But she did not leave completely. She was scouting the area. Searching for a way out. Planning her path.
This wasn’t an average feral. Zoroark were clever, and this one even more so.
She opened the door an inch, then a little more, and then slipped inside, shutting it behind her. Now, she was in a featureless hall meant to separate the observation room from the main chamber.
After taking a few steps forward, she eyed her surroundings without moving her head. Her movement was silent, and she focused on the scents instead. Yes… Just as she thought.
Mhynt slid her foot forward and conjured a rippling darkness through the floor. It bounced off of the walls like a pebble’s waves through water, and then hit a disturbance only a few feet ahead of her, then to the left. Mhynt pointed her blade forward in a gliding motion and pointed directly at the ripple. She narrowed her eyes, then smiled wryly.
“Shall we talk in the main room?” she asked the air.
No reply audibly, but the ripples on the floor told a different story. A step forward, then a step back. Weighing her options. Considering whether the tiny Treecko was a danger or not. In the end, the Zoroark chose wisely.
When the disturbances in the dark ripples moved toward the chamber, Mhynt brought her blade down and followed her inside.
Mhynt approached the half-eaten food and prodded the plate with her blade. Solid, so that wasn’t an illusion, though she suddenly heard a growl behind her. “Hm?”
The Zoroark loomed over her, snarling.
“Oh, I don’t intend to eat it.” Mhynt pulled her blade away. “I was testing how elaborate your illusions were.”
Zoroark growled, backing away and crouching down.
“You seem like an intelligent Pokémon,” Mhynt said. “I don’t think the others have been giving you the respect you deserve. Even now…” Mhynt pointed at Zoroark, blasting a small beam of Shadows into her chest. It passed through harmlessly, “You are misleading me. That’s something to commend.”
She growled again, then snarled.
“Hm?”
“Big words.”
And to this, Mhynt blinked. Her stoic mask cracked to reveal a hint of surprise. Then, she slipped it back on. “You can talk.”
“Stupid.”
“You certainly gave the wrong impression.”
Zoroark snarled again.
Mhynt held up her hands, eyes closed. “We didn’t know,” she rephrased.
Zoroark huffed and crouched down again. Mhynt, meanwhile, crossed her legs and slid her blade across the floor. It clattered and clanged against the wall. Zoroark, perplexed, flicked her ear and leaned forward.
“I’m only here to talk,” Mhynt said. “Why don’t we begin with names? My name is Mhynt.”
Another growl was all that she replied with, and then she snorted and turned away.
“Do you not have a name?” Mhynt asked, tilting her head. “Surely you do.”
“Small,” Zoroark replied.
“Your name is… Small?” Mhynt asked.
“You,” Small replied.
“…Me. You’re calling me… Small?”
Zoroark nodded. “Not interested.”
Mhynt squinted. “Interested in what?”
“Bad father.”
Mhynt brought her hands together and held her chin between her fingers. She stared at nothing, contemplative. This wasn’t expected. What part should she correct first?
…Not worth it.
“Do you know Owen?” Mhynt asked.
Zoroark narrowed her eyes at this, like she was suspicious. “He sent… you?”
For what? Why would Owen send her? What did she mean? Was Owen organizing an army? But that did answer a question, that she did know Owen. Perhaps he was more competent than she gave him credit.
“Still not interested.”
All gone in an instant.
“Zoroark,” Mhynt said, “I would like to take you to see Owen. You must be confused about why you’re here. If you work with me, I can take you back to him. Would you like that?”
“Hmm…” And then, a nod. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, I’ll ask again. Do you have a name?”
“Enet.”
Finally. Now, they could work together. “Then it’s good to meet you, Enet. I am Mhynt.”
Enet flicked her ear, then leaned forward, sniffing a few times. Then, she nodded, as if approving of something.
No. No, she wasn’t going to ask.