《The Wysteria Files - A Pokemon Horror Epistolary》


 Entry #1: Floribunda

    [Monika Sarajevo opens the door to her three storey house, letting me in after a short moment of consideration. She is the first person so far to agree to an interview for the Wysteria Files.


    She makes tea while I sit behind the ornate mahogany table in the living room, clicking my pen frantically on top of my notebook. When she comes back with the silver platter I finally get a good look at her: Tall and proud, with a firm posture not common to someone as old as her. After placing it on the middle of the table she sits gracefully across me, taking a sip of her lemon scented tea.


    She begins the interview before I even get a chance to ask her a question.]


    Have you ever had trouble recalling your own past? They say it''s quite uncommon; most people have the ability to remember key moments of their life from after they''re four or five years old.


    For me¡­ well, everything before I turned nine is a blur. I never had a chance to discover why, considering what happened, but I have my theories and suspicions. None of them are happy, in fact I''d say each one is more depressing than the next, but I doubt someone like you would have a problem with that, considering your line of work.


    "Would you like to expand on these theories?"


    I admit they''re not as painful now as they once were, and I''d gladly talk to you about them were it not for the fact that they''re quite irrelevant. I doubt your readers would be interested in something so mundane; they''re here for what happened after, aren''t they?


    "You mean the Harvest of 76''?"


    You know, it''s actually been a really long time since I''ve heard that. After the government gave me a new name and a new family I suppose I didn''t have much reason to remember it, so I didn''t. But now, with my skin sagging and the reaper practically giving me a shoulder massage, I suppose there can''t be much harm in re-opening an old wound, can there?


    That''s why I agreed to this, after all. I found the e-mail you sent me quite adorable, and said to myself ''Oh, what the hell. It couldn''t be so bad,'' so here we are. Ah, I''m sorry, I really should get to the point. Alright then¡­


    I guess it all began with an allergy. Okay, it began long after that, but I assume that''s not a start many readers are accustomed to, and as a writer myself I always enjoy throwing them for a loop.


    I was allergic to eggs, you see. It wasn''t as common back then as it is now, so I didn''t get a diagnosis until I was ten, when I had a bad case of an anaphylactic shock. Even then neither me nor my parents made a big deal about it; they were just eggs after all.


    I was an only child, which might explain the aspects of my personality some of my critics love to harp about. The less we talk about my father the better. My mother¡­ well, she was everything you could ask if you were a kid, even if you didn''t knew it back then. She was fierce and strict, yes, but also compassionate and caring. She did her best to straighten me up as a person, for most of her life anyway.


    She worked as a nurse for a Pokemon Center. This might not seem prestigious to you or any of your readers, but back then it was quite the honor. Agatha had founded the Indigo League only a year prior, and Professor Oak was only then making a name for himself. Trainers weren''t nearly as common as they are now, and there were only three facilities in all of Kanto who exclusively healed Pokemon. My mother was one of the first, and certainly one of the best nurses of her time.


    As for the star of this story¡­ I met her a few months before turning eleven. The League Committee had decided that all head nurses needed to have at least one Chansey, due to their recently discovered healing properties and the special attributes of the¡­ eggs, they produced.


    You see, Chansey is quite strange as far as mammal-type Pokemon go. They lay eggs like most, only¡­ theirs aren''t meant for reproduction, and they are not formed inside their bodies, but in the pouches in their outer stomach. But I digress, we''ll come back to this later.


    Most nurses chose to buy a Chansey from the safari in Fuchsia, but we didn''t have enough money to afford something like that. And considering what a talented trainer mother was¡­ well, it only seemed appropriate that she''d go looking for her own to catch.


    "Isn''t there only one place in Kanto where one could find them in the wild?"


    I see you''ve done your homework. Indeed, the only place you can find a wild Chansey is inside of Cerulean Cave, however very few are brave enough to attempt such a thing. I suppose you''ve heard the rumors; that only incredibly powerful Pokemon live inside, and that it would take someone on par with an Elite Four member or a Champion to enter and survive.


    [Her lips curve upward, and a powerful gleam of pride appears behind her eyes, making the woman look decades younger]


    She came out with a few scratches, one or two fainted members of her team and a shining Pokeball containing her capture. After that¡­ well, it took some time for things to turn strange, and by then I was too distracted by my new fortune to care.


    She came to live with us after that. My mother said it was because she liked the extra company and she''d grown to care for her, but I suppose she simply didn''t want to tell me the truth, either as to not hurt my pride or her own.


    I don''t think I need to explain it now, but back then most people didn''t know that Chansey''s eggs not only were full of nutrients but they were, according to most, the most incredible thing they''ve ever tasted. If you consider that, plus the fact she just kept making them without stopping¡­ well, let''s just say my mother added a lot of white and yellow to our diet for the upcoming years.


    The change was slow, which is why I never suspected something was wrong until it happened.


    At first it was similar to¡­ have you ever gotten out of a rough bout of depression or dedicated yourself to changing your life for the better? Fixing your sleep schedule, learning to eat better, doing a bit of exercise, I suppose it was a bit like that. My parents became more pleasant to talk to; their skin seemed cleared and the bags under their eyes all but banished. My father was still not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he didn''t yell at me or my mother so often.


    Funny how something so small can snowball in such a way, don''t you think? Whatever dark thing ate at my father from the inside slowly mitigated, and two months after Chansey came to live with us he finally got his act together and found a job. After that money started flowing in, for the first time in our lives, and we were able to afford commodities that seemed unattainable before. They bought me two dresses, a small bundle of toys and a pair of bright red shoes that I still have with me. They¡­ they are the only object I was able to recover from the house.


    [She pauses for the first time, taking in a deep breath. The green of her eyes seem faded for a moment.]


    I was happy. Happy for the first time since I could remember, and it had nothing to do with the gifts. And still¡­


    Can you believe I never suspected the reason for my parents'' change in attitude? Perhaps I was too young to connect the dots, or maybe I just believed that as long as I didn''t question my fortune then it would never go away. Besides, thanks to my allergies I never was able to see for myself just how powerful and addicting Chansey eggs were. What reason did I have to distrust my mother''s dear Pokemon? Absolutely none.


    "I''m guessing things took a turn for the worse once she evolved."


    Absolutely, though in a way I didn''t perceive at first.


    You see, back then almost no one knew that Chansey could evolve. I''m sure it must''ve happened at some point, and the government did have files and pictures of it, but they were unable to discover just what triggered it. After all, most Pokemon evolve once they get strong enough, once they become proficient enough at combat.


    But Chansey was different. They weren''t made for fighting, at least not in the traditional way. Still, the species must''ve known that they could achieve yet another form, and did everything in their power to make that happen. Why do you think they developed a way to create those eggs? What evolutionary advantage would they have other than to feed their young?


    My mother might''ve not been the first to discover how Chansey evolved, but she was one of the first to make it public. It happened not long after I turned twelve; I came down from my room for dinner and saw as she stepped in through the door. She''d been gone for about a week or so due to her work, and my father''s attitude had slowly changed for the worse. Luckily she came back before things got too bad, and next to her¡­


    ?Everyone, say hello to Blissey!? I remember she said, smiling from ear to ear. ?You will not believe what happened.?


    Turns out she just¡­ evolved out of nowhere. After a long shift of work my mother simply hugged Chansey and thanked her for her hard work and it happened. I''m sure she must''ve gotten a pretty big scare out of it.


    It wasn''t treated as much of a big deal, like most events in our lives. We baked a cake, threw a little party and congratulated her. That should''ve been it, a meaningless event lost to the tides of my memory, something not even worth remembering. Were it not for what happened after, of course.


    Things changed once more, only this time it was much more noticeable. I saw the first Blissey egg the next morning when we all sat down for lunch, and I remember being surprised that it wasn''t much bigger than the ones she produced as a Chansey. The shell was shinier, I suppose, and back then I liked to think that the odd feeling it exuded was simply my imagination.


    What wasn''t my imagination was what happened during the next weeks. My parent''s change in attitude before was nothing compared to their transformation once they began to eat those new eggs. I remember being scared, actually terrified at my own mother''s smile, something I never considered possible. It was so¡­ unnatural, especially for a woman as serious as she was.


    Bubbly is the best word I can think of to describe their behavior. Every little thing made them laugh and giggle as if they were kids. They raised their voice constantly, as if they couldn''t control it, and mother kept cracking jokes and making strangely positive comments about the horrible things that happened in her work.


    I was¡­ worried, to say the least, but years of being taught not to question my parents left me unable to voice my concerns. I could do nothing but spectate as they became grotesque caricatures of themselves, adults filled with so much happiness and energy that it became apparent it was destroying them from the inside.


    I really should''ve known by them. I was old enough, smart enough to put two and two together, and yet I didn''t. I supposed I was still afraid; as much as I abhorred this new life it was still marginally better than before Chansey showed up.


    And so I held my tongue and kept on with my life, trying my best to drown out any uneasiness by spending an unreasonably long time wandering around the city and the surrounding forest. I didn''t have many friends, unless you count Mary Svek, so I had to find a way to distract myself, I suppose.


    "Were your parents not worried about that?"


    They weren''t worried about anything anymore. There was literally no room in their brains for that.


    "There have been many studies about the effect of Blissey''s eggs on¡­"


    [She raises her left hand in an authoritative manner, interrupting me.]


    Come on now, you agreed to let me tell my story without interruptions. Don''t go spoiling our readers just yet.


    "I''m sorry, I just thought that since it was something so known¡­"


    I''m afraid that''s not up for you to decide, miss Tulip. I believe this is my story to tell, if our previous agreement is anything to go by.


    "Y-yes, you''re right. I just felt we weren''t quite getting to the point¡­"


    I''ll stop you right there, if you don''t mind.


    This story I''m telling is a gift to you and your readers, not something for you to pick apart as you please. These are painful memories, and the least you could do in retribution is humor me and allow me to weave this narrative the way I see fit. It''s one of the few pleasures I have left.


    I hope you understand.


    "I apologize. Please continue."


    [She clears her throat, fixing her posture before speaking once more]


    So to summarize: my parents killed each other a few days before Harvest.


    [She must notice how my pen freezes over the paper and my eyes go wide, because she places her palm over her mouth and giggles softly. She doesn''t say anything for a few seconds, perhaps waiting for me to complain. I don''t.]


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I apologize for pulling your leg, but I simply couldn''t waste such an opportunity. I enjoy leading my readers by the leash and then yanking at it violently once in a while. Keeps them on their toes.


    But yes, you are correct, I suppose there''s not much point in delaying it any longer.


    Two days before the Harvest festival there was a small scuffle in the bays of Vermillion between the forces of Kanto and Sinnoh. A battle fought by mistake they said, which I suppose was apt foreshadowing for the war that would come years later. The battle spread further than it was intended to, and the result was a handful of deaths and a few dozen wounded, civilians and Pokemon alike.


    The letter arrived at morning, and it was the first time in weeks I''d seen my mother frown. The League Committee was summoning Blissey for service, and she was to present herself in the city docks in two hours for deployment. To this day I still don''t know why they didn''t ask for my mother as well; perhaps they already had enough nurses and they desperately needed Blissey''s incredible regenerative powers.


    Sometimes I wonder what would''ve happened if my mother had gone with her. I suppose I wouldn''t be here speaking with you, though then again neither would she considering her age. It''s not¡­ productive, to think about what ifs, and yet¡­


    Ah, I apologize. As I was saying, Blissey departed that day, and all hell broke loose soon after. It wasn''t as fast as you''re probably imagining, though also not as slow as I would''ve liked.


    The first sign that something was wrong came to me at lunch, when we had to make do with an old pack of noodles and artificial flavorings. I didn''t notice the difference in the food since I never ate the eggs anyway, but my parents certainly did. I saw as their smiles slowly curved downwards, and before I knew it a strange shadow set over their eyes. They treated me and each other with the usual respect and levity for a short time, at least while we ate.


    A couple hours later my father accidentally let a teacup fall into the ground, and it shattered into small porcelain pieces. He cursed under his breath and next to him my mother shot him a look of disappointment that she tried to hide quickly.


    During the afternoon they started a discussion about the armed forces of Kanto and their quarrels with the surrounding regions. It began civilized, but by the end it was clear they were bothering each other immensely just by voicing their own opinions.


    The next morning my mother failed to wake up at nine, as she''d done so ever since I remembered. She came down from her room at around twelve with enormous bags under her eyes and went to the kitchen, where she made herself a cup of black coffee. Even before she took it to her lips I could see as her fingers twitched and her free hand fidgeted over the faded blue of her nightgown. I tried to tell myself that the sound of her teeth clattering was simply the Spearows outside, pecking at the trees.


    Their first big fight happened at night. My father complained that the food wasn''t as good as he was used to, and my mother did not let that comment pass. They kept shouting at each other for the entirety of dinner while I tried my best to dissolve into my own chair.


    "It must''ve been terrifying to see them go back to that."


    Oh, you have no idea. I wanted to believe I was in some sort of warped nightmare, I couldn''t accept the fact that our lives would go back to what they were before. But there was nothing I could do, so I looked down at the table, ate my food and prayed that this would pass.


    It did not. As the days went by the disputes got even worse and they turned into¡­ well, I hesitate to insult addicts by comparing them to my parents, but that''s what they reminded me of. I would find them with their heads against the wall, faintly whispering to themselves for minutes. They would crash against everything as if they couldn''t see what was in front of them. Wall scratching, vomiting, spouts of fury and violence, it simply got worse as time went by.


    What woke me up that night was the sound of my father''s hammer hitting my mother''s nose. I didn''t know that at the time, of course, but I realized it as soon as I came down, still rubbing the sleepy out of my eyes. I saw as her body was thrown backwards into the wall, I heard the animalistic screams of wrath they threw at each other, and I noticed how my mother''s hand went to the compartment of the furniture behind her, fingers closing around the handle of the kitchen knife.


    [Her hands noticeably shake around her cup of tea, and she tries to hide it by taking it to her lips.]


    My father bled to death from eight stab wounds to the chest and my mother fell to the internal bleeding of multiple hammer hits to the head. I would rather not go into more detail than that, if it''s no trouble for you and your readers.


    "I understand. What happened after that?"


    Can you believe I didn''t call the police or the neighbors? I didn''t come out of the house either, I just sat in those stairs looking directly at the corpses of my parents. I must''ve stayed there for at least five hours until the sun came up. With every muscle of my body as sore as it could be I got up, walked down the stairs and made breakfast for myself.


    Shock is a strange thing. There I was, eating toast with butter while my toes curled on the bloodstained floor beneath my feet. I don''t think my mind was able to react at all, so my body picked up the slack and turned me into something like a machine.


    "No one came to knock on your door?"


    Who would have? Our house was far away from the main street and my parents had taken a few days off their jobs. I wasn''t exactly the most popular girl in school either, so I doubt anyone cared that I skipped class a few times.


    The day after I heard as the door opened, and the sunlight hit Blissey in the back as her shadowy figure entered the house. She chirped happily as she was used to and approached me, staring at me with those small, black eyes and her ever present smile. She must''ve realized there was something wrong with me, because she approached and put both hands on top of my head, humming as she released a strange energy into my body. I hadn''t realized just how tight the knot in my throat was until it was dissolved.


    I fell to my knees and broke into tears, my entire body shaking. Through the edge of my vision I saw as Blissey walked past me and into the living room, where the dead bodies of my parents still were.


    The scream I was expecting never came. I just kept wailing into the floor for what felt like an eternity, and once I was all out of tears to cry Blissey came back through the sill of the door.


    Her smile was still there, though for the first time it didn''t extend to her eyes. I noticed the egg in her pouch shimmer with a strange, dark glow, but I was still in shock and didn''t pick up on what that could mean. She grabbed me by the arms and legs and carried me towards my room gently. As we passed through the living room I saw that my parent''s bodies weren''t there anymore.


    "She got rid of them?"


    As if taking out the trash. A few days after the police found them buried a few miles from our house, in front of a big tree in the forest. But I digress.


    Blissey took care of me as best she could. I still don''t know whether she felt guilty about what had happened, though I suspect she literally wasn''t able to, at least at first.


    She woke me up, cooked for me three times a day and helped me every time I would break down and start crying. She would urge me to read or watch television with her, and every night she took me into her arms and tucked me into bed.


    "She didn''t alert anyone else of your parent''s deaths?"


    I don''t think she thought it necessary, and I wasn''t in the right mental place to consider that strange. We just kept living like that for a few days. Trying to survive, trying to forget.


    Though of course there was something strange about the whole situation. Every time we sat down to eat Blissey would offer me one of her eggs, even though she''d known her whole life I was allergic to them. As I said; I was still very much in shock and didn''t realize just how odd this was. I simply refused, and every consequent time I did I noticed the slightest furrow of her brows.


    As time passed I noticed that her eggs started to¡­ change. At first they lost the distinctive white glow I was accustomed to, and then the warm, pulsing feeling they gave out. After that I noticed small brown patches begin to appear in the shells, and just before the Harvest day I could swear the one she presented to me smelled¡­ rotten.


    I didn''t think much of it, and kept living my life as best I could, slowly and carefully putting back together the pieces of myself. They didn''t fit very well, but I''ve never been good at fixing my own mind.


    Harvest¡­ that was the first time I somewhat came to my senses. I sat on a wooden chair too big for me, eyes fixated on the tablecloth beneath me, when I heard them. The distant sounds of small explosions, followed by the distinct glow of bright lights. I approached the windows and pressed my thin fingers on the glass, looking out.


    Fireworks painted the sky a dozen different colors, bright reds and yellow and green fighting back against the oppressive darkness above. Beneath it I noticed people walking through the streets of the town, most of them children wearing some sort of costume. They travelled in groups, holding round objects shaped like Pumpkaboos and asking their neighbors for candy and treats.


    I must''ve stared for a long time, because when I felt Blissey''s hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes they stung badly, echoes of fireworks turning my vision a bunch of different colors. I looked up at her and saw her smile grow ever so slightly, beneath the heavy bags under her eyes.


    As it was customary she grabbed me and took me to my room so I could sleep. For the first time I didn''t want to, I wanted to keep watching the festivities through my window, but I was too weak to protest. So, I did what I was told and closed my eyes. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was the sound of the front door closing behind someone.


    [She pauses for a few seconds as she drinks the last of her tea. Her sight falls someplace at her side as she hovers one finger over the rim of the teacup.]


    This time the screams I woke up to were muffled. That, unfortunately, didn''t stop me from getting out of the bed and walking down the stairs.


    Can you believe I wasn''t afraid? I''d been relieving my parent''s deaths in my sleep so often that I simply assumed this was just another nightmare. That changed when I reached the living room.


    Six chairs, with six children roped into them. Gagged too, by whatever their kidnapper could find in the house; dishcloths, paper, socks¡­ the look of horror they all had contrasted strangely with the colorful disguises they were wearing.


    Their eyes turned towards me with an unspoken plea, and I felt as if someone had dropped a bucket of water on me. They struggled against their ropes and screamed through their gags, trying to tell me something. Perhaps to help them, or to run away. Maybe both.


    I barely took one step towards them when I felt something squeeze my heart. It was as if invisible walls had suddenly closed against every part of my body; I struggled to breath as a pink-ish purple glow surrounded me and I saw my feet leave the ground. As I began to float my eyes went to the sill of the door leading towards the kitchen, and that''s where she was.


    Blissey had her arm raised at me, glowing with the same psychic energy she was using to restrain me. She didn''t look angry or hostile, as evidenced by that ever present smile, but I could tell by the slight crinkles between her eyes that she did not wish for me to interfere.


    I''m sure she didn''t intend to hurt me, and I am aware that her inexperience with combat meant she wasn''t used to her own power, but I can''t say having someone use their psychic powers on you for so long didn''t hurt terribly. Then again, not as much as what she forced me to see.


    She came back from the kitchen with a huge silver platter, letting it fall gently on the middle of the table. The smell hit me then, and I struggled immensely not to throw up. It seemed to travel past my skin and settle just below my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe.


    Six eggs, one for each kid, and all of them bent and covered in wide brown and black patches. She grabbed one of them and broke the shell, revealing the noxious, rotten stench it held inside. The yolk was a strong maroon, and it was completely dry. I tried to convince myself the things I saw moving inside of it were just a trick of my imagination.


    For the sake of your readers I will spare the¡­ grizzly details of what happened for the next hours of the night. I''m merciful that way.


    [She laughs knowingly, and I suppress my urge to mention that she has said much worse already.]


    Two of the kids died of food poisoning, and the rest were... changed. The eggs already had a tremendously powerful effect on adults, so you can only imagine what they would do to children. I remember clearly that, less than a minute after they''d taken a bite, they stopped struggling. All signs of pain or distress evaporated from their faces, and were soon replaced with the sounds of forced, uncontrollable laughter and joy. Their addiction was... immediate, as it became clear once the police arrived.


    First a small gathering appeared outside our house, followed by the sounds of sirens soon after. They broke down the door and tried to rescue us, but there were some complications. For starters, the moment one of the officers tried to untie a kid and take him away from the egg, the little bugger stabbed him in the face with a fork. They didn''t want to leave, you see, and why would they? Nothing, absolutely nothing in the outside world could compare to the bliss they were feeling in that moment. To be separated from it... well, one can understand why they''d react so violently.


    They were able to restrain the four that survived, though if my sources are anything to go by, they were never able to make a full mental recovery. But again, I digress.


    I was rescued as well, and the Pokemon responsible was immobilized. And yet... all throughout Blissey never complained or fought back, nor did she lose that wide smile of hers. I suppose she''d already gotten what she wanted, because that almost invisible frown had disappeared the moment the kids ate the eggs.


    And to think something as natural as evolution would lead a Pokemon towards such a horrifying dead end. It''s tragic... but also funny, I suppose. I consider that fact to be a little, personal revenge of mine. It''s the only kind of revenge I''ll ever get, after all.


    [She breathes in deep, closing her eyes for a moment. She''s been speaking for a long time, and I don''t know whether the sudden roughness in her voice is because of that or something else.]


    I''m not used to being indulged this way, nor speaking for so long, so I apologize for the sloppy way in which I''ve presented my past. Then again, I doubt you or your readers have any right to complain. This is my life, after all.


    [Another short silence, though this time her eyes fall on me. They stare knowingly for a few seconds, and I imagine Monika would be smiling if she possessed the energy to do it.]


    With that said, I have a feeling you didn''t come here just for a story. The way you''re looking at me tells me there''s something else you want to know.


    "I was hoping you''d know that¡­ well, no other Blissey has ever shown tendencies as strong as the one you''re describing."


    You''re right about that.


    "And that, considering the rumors about the town you grew up in¡­"


    You want to know about them.


    [She places a strong emphasis on the last word, curling her lips into an amused smile. I try my best to hide my nervousness.]


    "I would like to know what happened with Blissey after that."


    She wasn''t put down, though I''m sure you already know that.


    A few minutes after the police arrived I heard the sounds of multiple large vehicles around the house. A tall, dark-haired woman wearing a dark purple suit entered, and after a talk with some of the officers she convinced them to exit the house. She then called in some of her¡­ I assume subordinates, and carried Blissey inside their vehicle. That''s the last time I ever saw her.


    "Did they have some sort of insignia or¡­"


    A badge. On their left chest pcoket; two black wisteria leaf vines, forming a circle, if I''m not mistaken.


    [The way she taps her chin with one finger makes it clear that she remembers it perfectly. I try to contain my excitement and frustration, and after a few seconds of writing her words down I look up at her.]


    "Is there anything more you can tell me about them?"


    Nothing too useful, at least not for you. I hope that''s not a disappointment.


    "It''s¡­ fine. Thanks a lot for your time, and for agreeing to tell this story."


    [She doesn''t reply, instead looking down at her empty teacup with something akin to sadness. I rise up from my chair and save my notebook and pen inside my purse, eyes going to the door.]


    "I''ll be going now. And again¡­ thank you."


    [I barely make it to the sill of the door before I hear her voice again. It lacks all the energy and mischief characteristic of it, and I see that she doesn''t look up as she speaks.]


    I would advise you to be careful, miss Tulip. For your own sake, I hope you know what you''re getting into.


    "¡­I''ll be careful. Goodbye, Monika."


    [Disclaimer: Monika Sarajevo died a week after this interview. Forensics say she suffocated in her sleep.


    They have already discarded all possibilities of foul play.


    I haven''t.


    I''ll be moving out of the hotel I''m in as soon as I can post this entry. I might have to lay low for a while, so I''ll only update once I can gather new information.


    Tulip Glasslip  .]

 Entry #2: Macrostachya

    Tulip Glasslip here. Small update before I get to the interview.


    I have good news: I don''t think I''ve been followed. I should be happy about that, though ''Not being found and murdered'' being the highlight of these past couple of weeks can tell you how rough things have been.


    I''ve received several e-mails from readers and strangers, as well as comments on the website I''m uploading the entries to. Most are normal, though I''ve spotted a few oddballs wanting to get in on the action by leaving cryptic messages and riddles that, honestly, I don''t have the time to check or care about. If they wanted to convey important information I doubt they''d put it in the open for everyone to see.


    I might change my e-mail address soon, though. I''ll think on that.


    Anyway, I was able to locate a few ex citizens of Wysteria. The first two were reluctant about the idea of an interview, though they agreed after I explained that it was for a documentary. I would''ve felt bad about lying like that, were it not for the fact that they both canceled the interview less than a day after and told me not to call them again. They must''ve searched online and read what happened to Monika. I can''t blame them for wanting to stay away from that.


    Luckily, the third person agreed to an interview and didn''t cancel it afterwards. Whether this is because he didn''t look online for my previous interview like the others or because he did and didn''t care¡­ well, whatever the reason I didn''t have the benefit of looking at this gifted Ponyta on the mouth.


    I leave the interview below. I''ll probably be moving into another hotel as soon as it''s uploaded.


    <hr>


    [Horace is an old, chubby man with a Pyroar''s mane of white hair and an easy smile. He lets me into his apartment with the polite enthusiasm of someone used to entertaining guests. While he fumbles around trying to find something for the both of us to drink, I look around a bit.


    A few crosses hang from the wall, and on top of a nearby piece of furniture I spot several old pictures. Most depict Horace with his family, though a few are of him in his late twenties, wearing black garbs with the traditional purple scarf of the church.


    He finally finds some lemonade and serves a glass for each of us. We sit on opposite sides of his old, dusty table while I brandish my notebook and pen.]


    Am¡­ am I supposed to start the interview? Or do you ask me questions first? I''m sorry, it''s just¡­ I don''t think I''ve ever been interviewed before. Well, at least not since we won the junior soccer tournament when I was fifteen.


    "All you need to do is talk about the event you mentioned to me over the phone. I''ll ask questions whenever I feel it necessary."


    Oh¡­ alright then. I apologize in advance if I get lost or can''t remember things correctly; you know how age is.


    Anyway, the story. I believe I moved to Wysteria when I was twenty five. After I became independent I was searching the region for jobs, and it just happened that the town was in desperate need of a minister of music for their local church.


    Being both religious ¨Cthanks to my parents'' influence¨C and having studied music theory in college, I saw this as an opportunity given to me by the heavens. I talked with the executive pastor over the phone and, after he looked over my credentials, he hired me on the spot.


    "This did not seem strange to you?"


    Not at all, not at all. It was different back then; anyone with at least a high school diploma could find a decent job to support their family. And if you happened to have a college degree? That''s a whole ''nother story; employers would practically fight over the right to have you. I was a lucky man, I was. My parents had given me the education and morals to make it in the world, and so I did.


    I arrived a few days later with the few possessions I had. Since I didn''t have any Pokemon I was able to find a pretty cheap apartment close to the center of town. I settled in, and the place began to feel like home immediately. Neighbors came to visit and I had my first taste of homemade apple pie in years. Made with apples from Johto and picked by Ledyba, if you can believe it.


    Very nice people, all of them. Whenever any of us had any trouble we could rely on each other''s help, not like now where neighbors avoid each other and want to keep to themselves. Not that I''m complaining about the current youth, I''d hate to become that kind of old man. It''s just that¡­ ah, sorry. I''m getting out of topic.


    Yes, the church. It wasn''t anything breathtaking, certainly not one of those Sinnoh chapels that make your wish you had enough money to travel abroad. It was a simple tall building with two marble pillars at the sides of the entrance, a couple rows of wooden pews and the altar. There was also an elevated, rugged square at the right where the kids and teens were supposed to sing, and where I was supposed to direct them.


    I only signed a few papers that day, and met with the man whom I''ve spoken to on the phone. Pastor McMillian, the best man you could ever meet who still wore the robes.


    His voice was gentle and he smiled easily, for you see he wasn''t like the typical pastor most people imagine when the word comes to mind. He knew how to make his voice heard, as any orator should, but he was not strict or unkind. In fact, he invited me to a cup of brandy that very day, and we had a lovely chat about the town and our respective faiths. He was part of a small sub-branch of the church, one that wasn''t quite significant to completely split off from it but still quite rare, and one that I didn''t adhere to. Still, it didn''t bother me at all, in fact he taught me many things about the faith an orthodox man wouldn''t have been able to.


    "Did you two become friends?"


    In a way. We mostly treated each other with respect and only occasionally shared a cup of liquor after a hard day''s work. I believe we were both too busy with our respective jobs for anything else.


    Speaking of jobs, I began mine the next week. Summer was about to end, and the kids and teens that had made up the bulk of the choir had dwindled. Some boys were too old now, some had found an activity they enjoyed more or they simply got the opportunity to quit something their parents had forced on them. Whatever the case, we were left with only eight members from the year before. We needed to find volunteers, and that''s where the pastor came in.


    He must''ve had a few connections around town, because the next day he told me I''d be doing an assessment of the twenty eight people he managed to recruit.


    "I was under the assumption that the town was relatively small in population."


    Oh it was. Barely above two thousand citizens, if my memory hasn''t begun failing me yet. Still, being in the crossroads between Fucshia and Vermillion meant that some folk from those towns came to Wysteria to work or study there. We got a few foreigners too, though those tended to be pretty rare.


    In any case, I was tasked assess these volunteers. Nothing too serious, far away from a job or sport interview, but I still needed to check whether they had what it takes to be part of the choir. Of course I wasn''t going to turn any of them down, but I had to separate the youngsters into two groups. The first would be the main choir, which would be the ones performing each Sunday for the rest of the town. The second were the ones in training, those who were either too young or not used to singing, but wanted to learn nonetheless. They would be tutored by me, along with the rest of their classmates, until they became good enough to be part of the official choir.


    A few weren''t satisfied with this, and left before I could even offer them a spot on the secondary team. I don''t blame them, for I know how hard it is to receive criticism, especially when one is young.


    Luckily this was a rare occurrence, and at the end of the day we had a nice group of thirty youngsters ready to begin their classes.


    [He momentarily looks down at his hands. His fingers are interlaced tightly with each other, and I can see them slightly shaking under the wrinkles and calluses. He smiles sadly.]


    They were good kids, they were. Sally always tried hard to be the best, an attitude that doesn''t surprise me since she was a trainer on the side. I advised her that hubris was dangerous but I couldn''t say I was dissatisfied with her talent. Poor Ronald did his best too, but age is a traitorous thing and his voice was breaking all over the place. Avery was a bit of a bully, but we managed to straighten him up after a few weeks. Claire was the oldest and sweetest out of all of them, though she was quite shy¡­


    Ah, sorry, I didn''t mean to reminisce like that. You probably don''t care about little details like that.


    "This is your story, Horace. You''re entitled to tell it however you want."


    T-thank you. I''ll try to keep interruptions like that to a minimum.


    The kids were improving day by day, and the church had never been so full, or at least that''s what the pastor told me after every sermon. We got a few more volunteers for the choir in the following months, though I was sad to inform them that they would have to wait until solstice for the inscriptions to open up again. I don''t remember why; something to do with an old ordinance set up by the town.


    [He catches himself before continuing, and his thick eyebrows join together over the bridge of his nose.]


    Strange, now that I think about it. Pastor McMillian was known for changing laws and rules to better suit the people of the town and to facilitate the spreading of the faith. I guess he never got around to changing this particular one, for some reason.


    Anyway, I digress.


    Things were going well for all of us. After three months we finally incorporated all those in training to the main choir, and their talents began to bloom rapidly. I was ¨Cand pardon my lack of humility here¨C a rather excellent teacher, but even I couldn''t have hoped for such a change.


    They became closer, too. I would see most of them walking home in groups, talking excitedly about whatever kids loved to ramble on about back then, and while there was a bit of strife here and there they were easily resolved. Some of them became more than friends; not that it surprised me, they were teens after all, and they were forced to spend four hours a week together.


    "I thought members of the church weren''t allowed to¡­?"


    That only applies to those working under the church, and the choir program was labeled under the school group denomination, it was not a job.


    Besides, we were looser than most when it came to things like that. Due to our increasing workload we didn''t have much time to fall in love, but I assure you that if any of us found a significant other we wouldn''t have judged each other in the slightest.


    The pastor liked to believe we were the fun and cool kind of church, as he loved to promote in the pamphlets he made himself. Can''t say I didn''t laugh when I read it, and it was clear the poor man wasn''t quite knowledgeable about the current youth, but you couldn''t deny that he worked hard nonetheless.


    A good man, the pastor was. It''s a shame¡­


    [The fingers of his right hand unconsciously start hitting the table in a rhythmic manner, while he looks to the side for a moment. I can see his eyes catching a glimpse of the picture of him as a young man.


    He looks around for a moment, and finally sets his eyes on me. Or more specifically, on my notebook. He smiles nervously.]


    H-huh¡­ I gotta say, never seen someone write so fast on a piece o'' paper before. Did you study to become a scribe before you switched to journalism? I know a few people who¡­


    "I would rather not talk about my past or education, as to keep anonymity. I hope you understand."


    Right! Right¡­ I''m sorry if I¡­ uh¡­


    "It''s fine if you need some time, Horace. I know this must be a difficult story to tell."


    Hah¡­ I would love to tell you not to treat me like an old, withering snake, but I can''t deny your accusation. I guess age really is softening up my heart a bit. Still, I promised you this interview and I won''t back away in the middle of it.


    "Thank you. Please proceed."


    Yes, of course.


    Anyway¡­ we were about six months in when it all started.


    The pastor came in at seven in the morning as usual, but he looked agitated by something. He told me he''d received a letter from our superiors and he''d be leaving in a couple hours to Lavender town. It wasn''t permanent, he assured me, but he was needed for an important matter and it might take a couple of days to resolve. He appointed brother Adam to replace him, and asked me to take care of the ministerial duties concerning the choir; organization, paperwork, etcetera. I told him he could count on me while we shook hands, and after that he hurried upstairs to pack for the travel.


    I suppose I was taken aback by the suddenness of the whole thing, because it didn''t even occur me to ask who our superiors were. A deacon? The diocese? With a church as humble as ours it could''ve even been the government or League Association, I have no idea.


    And I didn''t get enough time to think about it either, because the following days were a nightmare. I had my eyes practically glued to papers and reports, my fingers were stained blue from having to hold pens all day and every half an hour I would have to make one or two calls. It didn''t help either that it was flu season and a few kids couldn''t come the next Sunday. And of course Avery had gotten detention and would be absent too, the little rascal.


    It''s just one of those things, you know. Sometimes the people around you do such a great job that you don''t realize how hard it must be, and that applied to the pastor better than anyone. Adam was having trouble keeping up as well, though at least he didn''t have to deal with about thirty youngsters and their family.


    "How long did it take for the pastor to come back?"


    A week and a half, or so. He arrived Thursday morning, I remember, with his briefcase in one hand and a Pokeball on the other.


    That gave me pause, I admit. I had never heard the pastor mention anything about having Pokemon, and it was strange for someone of the faith to have one anyway. Me personally, the only Pokemon I ever had was this cute little Growlithe when I still lived with my parents.


    He didn''t explain it right away, he just told us to help him take his bags upstairs with a big smile on his face. Adam and I looked at each other, and we could both tell we were thinking the same thing. The pastor was acting strange.


    "Did he not smile often?"


    He did, he loved to smile. But his were¡­ well, just a curl of the lips, the kind of smile that lasts a second but has more gentleness in it than any showing of teeth could. But the one he had then¡­ it was too big, too wide and it barely extended to his eyes.


    I told myself he must''ve been tired from traveling, so I just nodded and did as I was told. Once I finished I went back to the meeting room, and to my surprise the pastor was already there. He was sitting on one end of the table, looking intensely at that Pokeball he had with him, spinning it on his fingers as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I noticed he had some bags under his eyes, and he seemed pale too.


    I coughed to announce myself. He turned to me and urged me to sit down. When I asked him what that Pokeball was he smiled like that again, in that way that made me shiver, and told me.


    ?Horace! Just the man I wanted to talk to!? He patted me on the shoulder and leaned back into his chair. ?This¡­ is something I brought for you. Something they gave me.?


    Before I could ask who they were, he opened the thing. The light blinded me for a few seconds, and when it went away I looked up to see what came out of it. It was¡­ well, I''ll be honest with you I wouldn''t have known it was a Pokemon if I''d seen it in the wild, it looked like someone''s house decoration.


    Most of it was a small, round head like a porcelain teapot, though smaller. From under it moved a thin banner of cloth that was red at the tip, like a flag or something. It¡­ had a mouth, I think, and if I had to guess I''d say that its two yellow eyes were painted on, since they never blinked.


    It just floated in place for a few seconds while I stared at it, and every time the banner moved I heard something like the chime of a bell. It was distant, just at the edge of my hearing.


    "Was the Pokemon, by any chance, a Chimecho?"


    Y-yes! That''s the name, I think. Apparently they were from Hoenn, though most migrated to Johto and were pretty good at camouflaging, since they looked just like the wind chimes they used there.


    I asked the pastor what this was about, and he told me the Chimecho had been a gift from our superiors in Lavender. With another one of his wide smiles he declared this was just what the choir needed, as if that was enough explanation. Apparently I was supposed to have that¡­ thing around while we practiced and performed, and it would in some way help.


    I admit, I was skeptical. I didn''t like at all the way it just floated there, without looking anywhere or making a noise. I was also suspicious of the way the pastor was behaving, but I couldn''t just bring it up right there, could I? For all I knew the man was tired and genuinely happy to have something to offer to the choir. So as I had done plenty of times before I thanked him and followed his advice. He had never disappointed me so far, so what reason did I have to say no?


    ?This little fellow will turn the choir into the perfect, well oiled music machine,? I remember he said, eyes slightly out of focus. ?He''ll show you the meaning of Resonance.?


    [For the first time I spot something like anger flash across Horace''s eyes. He rolls back his shoulders and his fingers curl into each other strongly.]


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Resonance¡­ I should''ve known back then. Should''ve grabbed that ugly Pokemon by the head and smashed it with a hammer. That night I lied on my bed hesitantly, I could feel the down pull of dread tugging at something inside me. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was, again, the chime of that bell, so distant I wasn''t even sure if it was real.


    The next day I woke up like usual, had my cereal and milk like usual and walked to the church where I saw my students waiting in front of the gates, like usual. I had almost forgotten about that blasted Pokemon until we went in.


    None of my students noticed it, since it hung above the square where we practiced, next to the other small bells adorning the ceiling. Again it didn''t blink once, and the only time the banner under it moved was when wind entered through the doors and windows. I looked at it for a moment, feeling a pit on my stomach, but decided to ignore it for now. I told everyone to walk to their spot and we began to practice.


    [He raises one of his hands to the side of his head, thumb pressed against his middle finger.]


    The change was impossible not to notice. Their voices and cadence remained the same, but the timing of their singing ¨Csomething we''ve been meaning to put more practice on since it was their biggest weakness¨C couldn''t have been more perfect at that moment.


    [He starts snapping his fingers, once per second. His timing is nothing short of impeccable.]


    This isn''t something you''re born with, and it has nothing to do with talent. You need to practice it every single day, and it''s one of the hardest things to learn for any musician. And here these kids were, putting even their teacher to shame with their sudden perfection. I was baffled, to put it lightly.


    I asked if they''d been practicing, to which most replied with a smile that they had been. They didn''t seem to notice the change as well as I had, just like they hadn''t noticed the Pokemon hanging above them. At this point I was hesitant to bring up both those topics, so once again I didn''t. I simply complimented them and continued with the rehearsal.


    "You believe the Chimecho was responsible for their improvement?"


    It''s the only explanation that made sense. I didn''t know what the thing was capable of back then, I just thought¡­ well, maybe the bell it had for a head and the sound it made had something to do with it.


    The next Sunday we performed the usual songs during and after the sermon. The kids were as perfect then as they had been during practice, though I suspected few people would notice, tempo is not something normal people tend to pick up on, after all. Still, I seem to remember we received more praise than usual, and some of the parents were beaming as they picked their children up, they even congratulated me for my excellent teaching. It was the first time in my life a compliment had embarrassed me.


    "Did the children continue to improve after that day?"


    Yes and no. As I said before their tempo had become perfect, and you can''t really improve perfection. But there were¡­ other changes. Subtler ones, so much that at some point I had completely forgotten the Pokemon now hanging on the ceiling of our church, always immobile.


    The kids became friendlier with one another. I know I said they liked each other before, but even then it''s impossible to have such a large group of young people in one room and not have them argue or snicker a few times, right? Well¡­ not anymore. Marceline, bless her heart, always complained that the boys couldn''t reach a pitch as high as hers, but now she didn''t say anything about it. Avery didn''t clown around anymore, and even Sally stopped being so competitive.


    It was like¡­ they understood each other. Like they were in sync in more than just music and tempo, outside of their practice and into their own lives.


    "Did this concern you?"


    Not as much as it should have. But that wasn''t the only change, it was the more obvious one.


    That sound I spoke of earlier¡­ like the wind slightly rustling a wind chime, almost too far away to pick up. I didn''t always hear it, only when my mind was clear or I closed my eyes to concentrate. It was faint enough that, for a long time, I thought it an auditory hallucination. Whenever I pressed one ear against the softness of my pillow, every time my heart beat¡­ it was somewhat maddening.


    After a few weeks I started to seriously consider that something was wrong, and I mentioned it to the pastor. I wasn''t happy bringing such baseless rubbish to the man who''d taught me so, but he didn''t seem bothered in the slightest. I told him of the sound of chimes and the children''s sudden improvement, and that I suspected that may be linked to the appearance of the Pokemon he''d gifted me.


    He laughed, as he tended to do, and patted me in the shoulder. He then offered me a cup of brandy and told me that there was nothing to worry about, that the Chimecho simply wished to help us grow and evolve, musically speaking, and that I was over thinking this whole thing. His eyes were pale and cloudy, and he seemed somewhat out of it. I didn''t bring this up, fearful that I might be imagining that as well.


    I thanked him for listening and tried to leave, and that''s when he said something that gave me pause:


    ?The Resonance of your students is advancing wonderfully. I trust that they will serve as examples, as the first step of many, many more.?


    That spooked me, not gonna lie. Having the man I looked up to so much show that horrible smile while he said those words¡­ I mean, I couldn''t have know, could I? How do you figure from a few weeks of acting oddly and a strange Pokemon that¡­ that he was being influenced by¡­


    [He moves his hand around, as if trying to swat an annoying fly. His forehead and cheeks turn almost scarlet.]


    Excuses, excuses. I was scared, and that''s the end of the story. Just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, I s''pose.


    "What happened wasn''t your fault, Horace. You''re not the first to have been fooled by¡­ them."


    That''s a real nice thing of you to say, miss Tulip. Sorry I''m bogging the interview like this.


    "No problem. Take all the time you need."


    Well... not much time now, and not much time back then. I would like to say I got enough to ease back into things before things got odder but¡­ I didn''t. It happened three days later, in the next practice.


    We were just about to wrap up when one of the kids accidentally toppled one of those long, marble and gold candlesticks that were littered all over the place. It swiveled back and forth a couple times and then it fell forward, hitting Ronald on the back of the head. It wasn''t too heavy or anything, but I''m sure it must''ve stung a bit.


    And that''s exactly what happened, thirty fold.


    Ronald flinched and pressed one hand against the back of the head, and then¡­ the rest of the kids followed. They didn''t all move their hands, some shivered and others let out growls of discomfort. I¡­ felt it too, though it was very faint, as if a small gust of wind had hit me in the nape.


    Most shrugged it off and others turned around to their friends and accused them of hitting them in the back of the head, to their total confusion. Still, they''d been packing their things and looking in different directions when it had happened, and as such didn''t notice the mass reaction. However I, standing behind my podium and staring at all of them, did.


    I froze, and I felt something heavy and spiky in my chest. Slowly I looked up at the Pokemon above us, and I could swear I caught the slightest glimpse of a purple glow around its body, along with that chime sound I''d heard so many times. Not as distant now, and for the first time I was absolutely certain that I had heard it.


    I didn''t sleep well that night. Every gust of wind outside seemed to carry that sound, and the thought of what had happened kept me turning under my blankets. Had it been a coincidence? Was I imagining all of this, was the stress of work getting to me? Or was there something sinister with that strange Pokemon? It never moved, never talked, never blinked, it only¡­ chimed.


    "Did you address your concerns with the pastor or the kids?"


    I was wary of speaking to McMillian, in fear that he might consider there was something wrong with me. But I did resolve to ask my students a few questions, as subtly as possible as to not raise suspicion. Or¡­ well, I would have, if the next class had been like the others.


    Claire didn''t come to practice. That alone made me momentarily forget about what I intended to do. She was my most dedicated student, and we weren''t quite in flu season so it wasn''t likely she''d fallen ill. We waited for her for ten minutes and then I rushed back to my office and called her parents, just to be sure.


    Panic was the only thing clear in their voices when they told me she''d left the house for practice more than half an hour ago. I felt my blood run cold, and in the distance, once again, I heard that sound. It seemed linked to my heartbeat, which I could hear perfectly with my ear pressed against the phone receiver.


    I walked back, and even before I spoke I saw that most of the kids mirrored perfectly my panicked expression. They were all pale, eyes opened wide in terror as if they''d seen a ghost. I told them to wait inside the church until the police came back and escorted them back to their homes, while I went with some of the officers to look for Claire.


    It''s like we all knew deep down, even if realistically there could''ve been hundreds of explanations as to why she hadn''t arrived to practice yet. There was an invisible, burning certainty that spread through the kids and me without us noticing. Maybe that''s why I sprang into action so quickly when I''d never been that kind of man, I could feel something horrible brewing.


    We searched until sunset, and then we searched some more. Practically our entire side of the town was out looking for her, each person armed with nothing more than a small flashlight.


    "Were the townsfolk close to one another like that?"


    Yes, though probably not in the way you think. Most were polite and courteous, though they lived their own lives and let others do the same without interfering too much. Still, when one of their neighbors needed help they wouldn''t hesitate to act, and this was clear evidence of that.


    It was two in the morning when officer Mald told me to go back and get some sleep, that she would take it from there. I tried to argue, but I don''t think she heard what I said past all the huffing and puffing and exhaustion coming out of my mouth; we''d been walking and running around the city for hours non-stop, and as I''m sure you''ve noticed I''m not nor I was an athletic man.


    I agreed to go back home begrudgingly, assuring the officer that I''d be back after a few hours of sleep. However, as I walked down the hill path towards my home a thought appeared in my mind. I hadn''t seen pastor McMillian all day.


    I froze in place. How hadn''t I noticed that before? If there was anyone who would rush out to look for Claire and do everything in his power to find her, that was the pastor. So why hadn''t he been with us? Why hadn''t he appeared all day? Deeply troubled, I headed directly for the church. It was impossible to see anything since all the candles were extinguished, but I knew my way through the place well enough that I could traverse it in the darkness. I reached the door to the pastor''s quarters and knocked hesitantly. When he failed to answer I simply let myself in.


    I don''t know what I expected. Maybe to find him there, or something even more sinister? Well, the room was empty. Tidy too, as if it had never been touched before. And in the middle of the table at the other extreme of the room was a white envelope, looking quite out of place inside that room. The seal melted into the middle of the flap was that of the pastor, I recognized it instantly.


    I rushed to pick it up without even considering it might''ve not been put there for me. And to be honest, I really hoped it hadn''t.


    The letter inside left me speechless. The pastor wrote about how happy he was that everything we''d been working towards was finally blooming. He spoke wonders of that blasted Pokemon, of how much it had helped us improve and evolve, and then¡­


    ?I am so proud that you and your students have finally reached true Resonance with one another,? I remember it said. ?It pleases me more than I can describe that I''ve helped plant the First Seed.?


    I had no idea back then what that meant, and I have no idea today either. Whatever happened to the pastor, whatever¡­ they did to him, it''s clear that it changed him completely. At the end of the letter he wrote that his task was complete, and he would return to his friends in Lavender tower.


    [He frowns and looks down at his hands. I wait expectantly, my own heartbeat resounding in my ears.]


    They never found him after that. As if he''d vanished into thin air. Worst of all was that when I came back down and I lit one of the candles I saw that the Pokemon had gone away too. I guess they had both completed their tasks.


    "Did the townsfolk caught wind of what happened to the pastor?"


    There was no time. They were too worried with Claire''s disappearance, and shortly after I went to the police to report his disappearance something even worse happened: All the kids from the choir fell ill.


    "Ill in what way?"


    There was no real rhyme or reason to it, and it wasn''t a normal sickness. I heard it from their parents; one minute they would have a pounding headache and the next they would be vomiting all over the place with their insides feeling like they were made of fire. I felt it too, though as you probably guessed not as strongly. A bit of a migraine in the morning, intestinal problems in the evening¡­ I s''pose it was the age, the kids must''ve been more vulnerable to it.


    "Vulnerable to what?"


    The Resonance. I could feel that too, it was different from any kind of physical pain, it was something that was etched into my mind and I heard it every time I closed my eyes. It wasn''t a chime anymore, but a choir of meaningless whispers. And whenever I heard them I would feel¡­ things. Hopelessness, rage, envy, things that didn''t line up at all with what I should''ve been feeling.


    I couldn''t sleep right, I couldn''t eat right, I couldn''t do anything without that horrible dread choking me from the inside. It became worse as the hours and days went by, until I got sick of it and decided that I needed to get to the bottom of this. I briefly considered fleeing the town, but I knew I''d never forgive myself if I walked out on my students when they needed me.


    Problem was, I had no idea where to begin. The pastor had left no traces, and neither had Claire. I could''ve talked to the students one by one, see if they knew anything¡­ in fact I was considered doing just that when it hit me.


    It was a fleeting, extremely faint urge, one that I knew didn''t come from me. At first I was alarmed, but after gathering my wits I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate in that feeling. What did I want? I wanted¡­ I wanted to go out, even if it was the dead of night, and I wanted to leave an excuse for my parents, which was strange since they didn''t live with me. And after that¡­ well, it wasn''t quite clear. It was like there was an invisible breadcrumb trail guiding me towards my destination. I didn''t know where exactly it would lead me, I just knew I should follow it.


    And so I did. I left a note should something happen to me and I went out into the coldest night I could remember since I had moved to Wysteria. For a while I walked, and once I went over the hill and into the northeast corner of the town, I saw them.


    One by one my students walked the same path as me, trying as subtly as possible to sneak through the cracks of the night. I approached Sally, which was the closest one, and asked her what was happening, if she was feeling okay. But she didn''t answer me; her eyes were faded and out of focus, as if she were sleepwalking. No matter what I did to try and wake her up she just kept going northeast, and so I had to follow her.


    The place they were heading to was one of those rusty metal hangars close to the abandoned docks, the ones where they stored boat parts and equipment. I stayed a little behind and saw as they all converged in front of the entrance and proceeded to go in.


    I hesitated, and that alone might''ve cost everything. I kept my distance from the place and debated whether to go back and warn the authorities or keep going, and all this arguing with myself took almost five blasted minutes. If I''d been more decisive, then perhaps¡­ but I guess there''s no point in thinking of what ifs.


    I decided to follow, though I didn''t go all the way in. There were no guards outside, possibly because they didn''t want to alert anyone of what was happening, and so I sneaked towards one of the smaller side doors and slowly opened it, peeking in.


    From that angle it wasn''t easy to understand what was happening. All I saw were my students standing in rows in that empty hangar, illuminated by two strong lights in the ceiling. They didn''t move, and they were staring at something on the other side.


    Someone had erected a kind of wooden podium or platform, and there seemed to be four people standing on it. Three adults, two of them wearing black camo and holding guns, and the third was a woman in a purple suit and dark glasses.


    "Did you get a good look at them? Was there an insignia in the woman''s suit?"


    [My voice must''ve betrayed me, because Horace is taken aback by the intensity behind it.]


    I¡­ don''t know. It was hard to see in there, and I was distracted by something else I saw. I''m sorry.


    "That''s¡­ fine. Please, continue."


    [He smiles and looks down, and I can tell right away that he doesn''t want to. Still, he must summon courage from somewhere because after a few seconds of doubt he speaks again.]


    I¡­ saw her last, since she wasn''t as tall as the people around her. I''m sure I must''ve let out some kind of shriek or wail, and it was a miracle no one inside was able to hear me.


    Claire was in that platform, and the state she was in almost brought me to tears. Her clothes were worn and dirty as if she hadn''t changed since she disappeared. Her thin legs were wobbling and her knobby knees were bruised and bloodied. There was a cut on her lower lip, and her cheeks were stained with dry tears.


    She looked empty, miserable. Whatever had happened to her, whatever these people were doing, it had clearly cracked her will. She didn''t seem to notice anything around her, as if staying conscious alone took effort she was barely capable of.


    I felt my stomach burn with fury, but I was too shocked to react, which is probably what saved my life. Had I gone in at that moment I would''ve been shot by the two guards. Then again¡­ perhaps that would''ve given the kids the opportunity they needed to escape.


    In any case, I was taken out of my stupor by the woman''s voice. She looked down at a strange watch in her wrist and cleared her throat before speaking:


    ?We don''t have much time. We need to get through the tests before their parents notice they''re missing,? she said. ?First test: check if their Resonance has reached its peak potential.?


    And just like that, like it was the normal thing to do, the woman walked towards Claire and slapped her in the face.


    It was the most aloof and business-like slap I''d ever seen. Claire took it and moved her head to the side, threatening to fall over. And then, only a second after, every single one of the kids flinched and took their hands to the cheek where she''d been struck. I felt it too, though it was nothing more than a light discomfort.


    The kids seemed to be in the same daze as her, because they didn''t react much other than that. I reckon they must''ve given the poor girl some kind of drug and the Resonance passed that onto the others but¡­ I''d rather not think about that.


    The woman nodded and typed something into her little watch, looking as if this was just another day in the job for her. She then approached one of her buddies and stretched her hand towards him like she was expecting something. I could see the man hesitate for a moment before he took out a small knife from his pocket and gave it to her.


    ?Next we''ll test a deeper injury,? she said to herself. ?Let''s see how the receivers'' nervous system reacts to it.?


    That''s when I felt that awful chill down my spine, and I knew what was coming next. The woman raised the knife and pointed it at Claire like she was debating internally which part to poke first. The anger inside me must''ve overpowered my fear, because next thing I know I''m kicking the door and entering the place like I have any damned idea what I''m doing.


    The guards reacted first; they saw me and raised their weapons, though they didn''t shoot. The woman blinked a few times and turned towards me, I remember her face like it was yesterday. Those awful blue eyes of hers, those thin lips and eyebrows that formed an expression of surprise and rage¡­


    As I said, I didn''t have a plan or anything of the like, and when I realized that I just froze. I knew I was seconds away from getting shot, the moment that woman''s surprise faded and she ordered her guards to attack it would be over.


    Or it would''ve been, if it weren''t for Claire.


    [I try not to bring up the sudden wetness in Horace''s eyes.]


    I used to think it was all my fault. Now I don''t know¡­ maybe if I would''ve acted differently¡­ but I honestly have no idea. I was never decisive or brave, I was never like my students. And after all Claire had surely suffered¡­


    She must''ve gotten out of her daze just enough to realize what was happening. The guard next to her was distracted and didn''t notice when she grabbed the gun hanging from a holster in his hip. I saw her raise the weapon, and those people turned towards her and¡­ they didn''t have time, and I thought she was going to shoot them¡­


    I¡­ I still don''t know why she did it. Maybe she really was in that much pain? Did she understand the consequences of her actions? I doubt it, and still I wonder¡­


    Claire turned the barrel of the gun towards her forehead, and pulled the trigger. There was a single second after the bang when I didn''t feel anything at all, I just saw her body fall backwards like I was inside some sort of nightmare. What I was seeing couldn''t be real, and that comforted me in some way. At least until the pain came.


    It felt like my forehead had burst open, and I fell to my knees while I screamed and wailed. Nothing existed but that agony, that burning, searing wound in my head that wasn''t really there, that I didn''t know whether it would ever go away. I wanted to die, I wanted one of the men to shoot me and take me out of my misery, and then everything would be well again. In the furthest corner of my mind I thought¡­ if this is what I was feeling, what of the other children?


    What of my students?


    I didn''t need to wait long to figure it out. The pain subsided after a few seconds, though I could still feel the aftermath in my nerves, like the image stuck behind your eyes when you close them after staring at a source of light for a while.


    I struggled to get to my feet, and I saw that they weren''t bothering to shoot me, or say anything for that matter. The woman and her two guards were running towards the exit, and once I was well enough to see again I realized why.


    My students had fallen to the ground like ragdolls. They were immobile and with their eyes wide open, staring into nothingness. They still breathed, fortunately, but the same couldn''t be said for the body laying on that wooden platform, covered in blood.


    [I can hear his heavy breathing once he stops talking. His face has gone extremely pale, only disturbed by the occasional tears.


    I wait almost an entire minute before speaking.]


    "What happened after?"


    I ran. I went back to my house, packed my most essential possessions and got everything into my car, and then I drove away from that town, never to come back.


    "Just like that?"


    Just¡­ just like that. I was too overwhelmed, too scared and I could still feel the pain throbbing inside my head, though it''d been dulled. A part of me knew there was a chance I''d be blamed for what had happened but I wasn''t in the right mental place to be logical, and my reason for running away was driven entirely by those horrible and selfish human instincts. I became the coward my species has indoctrinated me into being, and I tried to save my own skin.


    I drove until I ran out of gas, and I kept going from there. I never went back, and I only got the nerve to investigate a few years later. What¡­ what had happened to the kids¡­


    [Horace is unable to keep speaking, though I know what he means.


    Out of the group of youngsters found the day after in that hangar, only five managed to achieve a partial recovery many years later. Most weren''t able to, and a few of the youngest ones were known to suffer brain damage too severe to even attempt fixing.]


    "I''m sorry for what happened, Horace. If it''s any consolation, I don''t fault you for running. You would''ve most likely been killed, had you not."


    Th-that might even be preferable¡­ I try to forget, every single day. I haven''t worked in a church since, because I know I''m not worthy. There is nothing¡­ nothing I can do now. I should''ve acted back then. I used to think what I felt in that hangar was the worst thing a human being could experience, but I was wrong. There''s nothing more painful than regret.


    [It takes Horace a few minutes to regain his composure. He apologizes for acting like this and says that''s all he can tell me.


    I thank him multiple times for blessing me with this interview and I do my best to convince him that doing so will make a difference.


    I try to hide the fact that I don''t know whether that''s true or not.]

 Entry #3: Brevidentata

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    Last entry I proudly declared that I was not being followed. Things have changed since then.


    I discovered something strange while reading the comments on my website. As I mentioned before, most are either from fans or idiots trying to scare me by writing cryptic bullshit and riddles. Normally I wouldn''t mind, but¡­


    There''s a special plugin installed in my laptop that allows me to track the IP of anyone who comments on my page. Not the exact location or anything of the like, since that would be illegal, but it gives me a rough estimate of where the user is. I mention this because the other day I noticed a particularly strange comment by a user nicknamed Pruner. It read as such:


    Where does thunder go after a storm?


    Look outside when the lightning flashes.


    It caught my attention, though not as much as what I discovered when I looked at the IP. I will not reveal the exact location for personal reasons, but it was the same city I''d been staying in less than two weeks ago.


    It was surely a coincidence, but just in case I searched for any other comments made by that user. I found two more:


    Can you hear the ground rumbling?


    Can you hear the voices beneath the earth?


    And:


    You''re pointing that pen the wrong way.


    Tell us more about yourself.


    Each one was written from a different IP and they corresponded with other two places I''d been staying in previously. Needless to say, I moved again as soon as I learned this information.


    I''m still not convinced I''m safe, or whether this was a huge coincidence or not. Whatever the case I will further limit my interactions online and I''ll be watching over my shoulder twice as much from now on. I can''t be too careful.


    In other news, I managed to find another person to interview. I will put the result of our meeting here below:


    <hr>


    [Kate''s apartment is uncomfortably familiar, for an ex-college student such as myself. The walls are grey, the painting starting to fall apart, and there are few pieces of furniture to be seen other than the computer stand and the dingy table in what we could call the living room. Water is the only thing she can offer me, which I graciously accept.


    As she sits in front of me I get a better look at her. Hollow cheeks, hollow eyes. Hollow voice too, if that makes any sense. I struggle to listen to what she''s saying; her tone has an almost soporific effect on me.


    There''s an oddity about her, compared to the other people I''ve interviewed: she was not a citizen of Wysteria, which explains her young age. Still, the story she wants to tell me is tangentially related to the city, so here I am.]


    I''m not gonna make you have to console me like those other two you interviewed. I don''t care if anyone reads it or not; I just want to get it out of my chest because no one else has believed me so far. And if whoever was responsible comes for me¡­ well, they can try to kill me they want to.


    This happened four years ago, right after I turned eighteen. I was lucky to finish high school; my grades have always been shit because I''d have trouble concentrating or I''d fall asleep in the middle of class. Not entirely my fault, but you go explain to my parents what mental disorders are and if they listen for more than a few minutes without calling you a liar then I''ll give you all the money I have. Not much, but I figure you could use it.


    [If she notices the way I glare at her, she doesn''t let it show.]


    I never knew if it was narcolepsy or something to do with dreams, and I don''t have the money to find out now. The gist of it was that I was tired all the time, and at night I wouldn''t be able to fall asleep for long because I got some pretty ugly nightmares. The vivid ones, where you can''t move and¡­ ah, I''m sure your readers can look that stuff up. Suffice to say, I fell asleep at random times during the day and I had constant bags under my eyes.


    So summer came, and I was ready for my last three months of freedom playing games and being a social Slaking before I had to head for college and have my life ruined. Problem was, a friend of mine had another idea; you see, she''d recently gotten a summer job in the woods near Wysteria.


    Apparently the Ditto around the area became kinda crazy that time of year and people didn''t want them to reproduce too fast. It would throw off the ecological balance or something. So they sent a random teen with free time there, gave them anti-pheromone spray to use on the vicinities once a day and paid them a lot better than anyone would''ve expected. They also gave them the keys for a shitty cabin that used to belong to some ranger.


    You can see where this is going; she invited me and Denna to go with her and have a pleasant camping week since it''d be the last chance we''d get before heading to college.


    Oh right, I should''ve probably mentioned: I used to have friends. You probably wouldn''t know by looking at me. Anyway, there were was Merry which was the one who got the job, she was the kind you look at and think ''Damn, that girl must''ve been raised by lumberjacks or Ursaring''. I was absolutely crazy for her, not that I ever got to tell her. Anyway, Denna was the one I got along better with since we were both geeks and spent pretty much all our free time playing games and watching T.V shows.


    We weren''t exactly the camping type, which is why it took a while for us to be convinced by Merry''s insistence. In the end, after a couple weeks of battering us over the head with the idea, we had no choice but to accept.


    I''ll spare you the details nobody gives a shit about, like the preparations and all that. We bought what we needed, loaded the trunk with more canned beer than a group of frat boys would''ve known what to do with, and three days later we were on the road at first hour of the morning. Merry was the only one with a car, and most importantly the only one who could drive, so we let her do her thing while the road blurred around us.


    Her car was a red convertible, really old but looking as if it''d been made less than a year ago. Not that I know shit about cars, I mention it because I remember how much of a pain in the ass the wind was while we traveled. We could barely hear each other talk and the radio was turned on just because, we couldn''t hear it either. And we weren''t exactly close to our destination; it''d be at least ten more hours until we got there.


    Still, we made conversation here and there and stopped occasionally to have some snacks at the side of the road. I was in the back seat; on the outside I claimed that it was because it would help me sleep easier if the narcolepsy came back, but to be honest I was nervous of sitting next to Merry for the whole trip. I wasn''t sure I could hold a conversation with her for so long and I''ve always been an anxious wreck. Denna called me a dumbass for that, and she might''ve been a bit more than right. But hey, at least I got to actually lay down to sleep during the night.


    Yeah¡­ the night, that''s when it started to happen. Everything was pitch black except the cones of light in front of the car, and we''d stopped talking about an hour ago, when Denna fell asleep. I asked Merry if she wanted us to stop for now and keep driving in the morning, but she just smiled at me and said she would''ve preferred to get there as soon as possible. I didn''t complain, since I''ve never been one to snooze at night anyway.


    I got comfortable against the seat and just listened to the radio for a few hours, while I looked out at the sides of the road. There wasn''t much there, but I dare you to find a time and place more beautiful to just¡­ be silent and do nothing. Folk underestimate how nice silence can be. Merry had always been the loud and extroverted one out of our group, but even she understood.


    I couldn''t tell you when I fell asleep. I''m not even sure I did, really, since I didn''t dream and I could actually hear the sound of the radio. It felt really far away, like I was listening to it at the other side of a tunnel or while wearing a helmet or something.


    Who knows what the program was about. All I remember is that there was a woman talking about¡­ something related to celebrities, I think. The kind of thing old people listen to because they wanna live through a famous person''s life and get mad or happy in their behalf.


    Anyway, I kept listening to that woman''s voice while I was sort of asleep, but at one point it changed. That''s the part I remember clearly; first the background noise disappeared and it sounded like she was talking someplace outside, I could hear the wind and the rain. Then her voice changed¡­ I didn''t notice at first but after a while she started to sound like¡­ Denna.


    When I had that thought the program stopped being that, and it was like I was hearing something completely different. Denna was talking really fast, high pitched and all that. Like she was running out of breath, or she was really desperate, I don''t know. Then I heard her gasp, and the sound of the rain morphed into¡­ the steps of something. They were heavy and wet, like when you get your shoe out of a puddle of fresh mud.


    I could hear us running and those steps were chasing behind us. Merry was saying something but I couldn''t pay attention because Denna started screaming.


    Then I heard¡­ I can''t properly describe it. Like the sound of steam blowing out of a kettle but¡­ more musical I guess? Next thing I know I was screaming bloody murder in the car and Denna and Merry were staring at me like they''d seen a ghost.


    Merry had stopped the car on the side of the road. Both of them were so worried I¡­ I didn''t know what to say. I just told them it was a bad nightmare and that I''d drink some water and I''d be fine. I sure as hell wasn''t gonna go to sleep again after that. I''m sure they didn''t believe me, but they pretended to because they were better friends than I deserved and they didn''t wanna push the issue.


    "You''ve mentioned before that you occasionally suffered from sleep paralysis. Is that what happened in the car?"


    Yeah, I recognized it as soon as I woke up. That''s the worst part, you know. I couldn''t do anything but be frozen while all the horrible shit happened around me, I just prayed that I''d wake up soon. Though to be honest I never had a nightmare as bad as that one before. I chucked it up to the stress of the trip and of the exams for finishing high school.


    We got to the base of the camping grounds at noon. The cabin wasn''t on the side of a mountain per se, but the ground did go up at enough of an angle that we couldn''t drive there. We walked up the predetermined path with our bags and whatever else we needed. Merry carried the beer exclusively; we told her we could come back later for it but she was having none of it. God forbid the drinks became hot because of the sun; I''m pretty sure she would''ve killed us all if that happened.


    [An actual, non forced smile appears on Kate''s face, relaxing her expression. Until now I hadn''t noticed the constant frown she had before.]


    The place we''d be staying in was as shitty as it could be before it stopped reaching the minimum requirements of being a cabin. Still, there was electricity and hot water. And the beds were bug-free, so at least it was slightly civilized.


    We spent the first few hours unpacking and getting to know the place. Merry told us to make something for lunch while she went ahead to the place where she was supposed to do her work. According to her there was a small valley in between two of the¡­ god, I don''t wanna call them mountains because I know they''re not that, but I also don''t know the real name. That''s gonna drive me crazy.


    "A hill, perhaps?"


    It was a bit bigger, but let''s go with that.


    Anyway, the valley. It wasn''t big, maybe the size of a football field, and there was a small lake in the middle of it. The people that hired Merry told her that''s where all the Ditto gathered at night and it was where they mostly got their water to drink from. So all she needed to do was go there once a day for a week, sprinkle some of that chemical shit they gave her and it''d spread all over. I think it was supposed to make the Ditto infertile without harming them. Who fucking knows if it was true; we weren''t there for long enough to find out.


    She came back at around two, when the sun was starting to get really bad. I''m not gonna say I didn''t kinda choke on the sandwich I was eating when I saw her walk through the door. Her hair was messy, she was covered in dirt and dust from all the walking and¡­ well let''s just say I was thinking of what every teenage girl thinks at that age when they see someone that attractive and leave it at that.


    She grabbed a few cans from the freezer and sat down to eat with us. We talked about menial things, asked her about the job and all that. Then after a while she said something that gave me pause.


    ?I think I saw another cabin at the other side of the hills. It''s weird, I don''t think there''s anything past there until the ocean.?


    It was an off-comment, and we just shrugged and thought it was weird before moving on. She was right, though, there shouldn''t have been any other kind of building past the valley. Not only was it not in the map but it was in a place surrounded by trees and it was almost impossible to see unless you were close to that lake.


    "How did you know this if you hadn''t seen it?"


    Because we went there, obviously. We were eighteen, drunk and fucking dumb at the time, what did you expect?


    Anyway, we spent most of the day setting up and exploring the perimeter of the place. I''m not gonna bog this down by telling you every type of tree or rock or the species of Pokemon that lived there. Just imagine your nearest patch of woods, add a shit ton of heat and Beedrill and you get the gist of it. The only important thing is that autumn wasn''t far away, so the floor was covered in dried, crunchy leaves. It made an awful sound every time you stepped on it.


    Merry was determined to make us work so we wouldn''t sit on our asses all day, which we probably would have without her. She told Denna to spray Repel all around the cabin and the nearby area just in case, and told me to go find some wood for the bonfire we''d be making outside.


    I asked her why we needed a bonfire if we had a cabin, and then I asked her why hadn''t she brought some wood before coming. To both those things she replied that it was a lot more fun if we did the work ourselves. I tried to hide a smile and told her she was a dick for making me do the hardest work, and she smiled back and said I know.


    She¡­ probably knew about how awful my condition was, and she must''ve figured that the more tired I was before falling asleep the lesser the chance of nightmares happening. Always looking out for me, like good friends are supposed to do.


    I went looking in a circle around our camp, and by the time I''d gathered enough wood to make a good fire the sun was already going down. There wasn''t much trouble, aside from a few Rattatas that ambushed me and tried to eat the candy bar in my pockets. Bastards got a face full of Repel.


    The only weird thing I noticed was that the more uphill I walked the less I''d hear Pokemon cries or the leaves of the trees rustling. That wasn''t how it was supposed to work; the more I went up the more things should''ve been living there, right? And¡­ now that I thought about it, I didn''t remember Merry mentioning running into any of the Ditto she was supposed to stop from mating. It''d been the middle of the day and in their favorite hiding place, how were there not any there?


    Just as I thought that I almost fucking fell into the entrance of the valley. I took a step back, sweating bullets, and I looked down at the lake. I couldn''t see a single Pokemon there, not even a Rattata nibbling on the fruit thrown in the ground.


    Then I looked up, towards the other side of the hills. Just like Merry said, there was a house there. It didn''t look fancy, but it was well built. The walls must''ve been made of solid concrete and the roof was metal. It was painted black, so it would''ve been impossible to see it at night, and even now I was having trouble focusing on it. I swore I could see¡­ mist? It was rolling downhill from the top towards the house, and advancing in all directions. It was almost transparent and¡­ pearly white, I think is the best way I could describe it, almost enough to be pink.


    I stared at it wondering why the hell was there mist in the middle of the day when it wasn''t even cold, until I remembered I had to go back to the camp. So that I did, and I tried to forget all about the house, even if it gave me the all overs.


    They were worried I came back a little late, and by the way they were looking at me I knew it wasn''t just because of that. I told them everything was fine and tried to put on my best smile. That seemed to relax their nerves a bit.


    The fire we made was amazing, and the satisfaction of seeing the flames almost as tall as us made looking for the wood worth it. Not that I would''ve admitted it to my friends, I still had a grumpy reputation to maintain. We basked in the heat as the sun went down and the temperature dropped. We got some chairs from inside the cabin and sat around it while we ate and drank far more than our bodies were used to processing.


    The least I speak of that night the better. Not because anything bad happened, far from it. It was one of the most enjoyable things I''ve ever done, and it was all thanks to Merry and Denna. They were the best kinds of friends.


    I''d like to keep the memory of that night to myself, if that''s okay.


    "Absolutely."


    The only important thing is that, at some point, my inebriated self suggested going to that strange house over the hill. I''d been curious about it all night, and I thought it''d be a cool way to pass the time, since we were stuck in that damned place for an entire week. I don''t know if my friends were drunker than me or were just surprised because I never was the one to make the plans, but they accepted.


    Then we passed out, I think. I don''t remember it very well, all I recall is one of us throwing up on a tree that ended up being a Trevenant. That caused some problems, but other than that it was an enjoyable night. I fell asleep before I even hit the bed.


    I didn''t dream that night. Wait, that''s not right. I¡­ felt like I did, but I couldn''t remember a single thing about them. I woke up feeling like I was missing a part of my mind, but I thought it must''ve been the drink and the awful hangover.


    As you can probably guess from the previous night, we didn''t do much until way past 2 PM. I was the first to wake up, though I stayed in my bed for almost an hour growling to myself. Denna was next; she made the effort to go to the kitchen and brewed some coffee for all of us, bless her soul. Strangely, Merry was the last to get up but the one who looked the least affected by the alcohol. I guess being both more sturdy than us and accustomed to drinking anyone under the table helped her with that.


    "Did you bring up again the plans to go to that house?"


    I didn''t, because I didn''t remember proposing that the night before. Denna mentioned it a few hours later when we were feeling a little better, and we had a short discussion about it.


    I was apprehensive, even thought I''d been the one to propose the idea. Denna looked really excited; she''d always loved the idea of discovering new things in the woods, especially if they were grim and creepy. Merry thought it over for a few minutes; she looked worried. I wondered if she''d seen that mist too, but I didn''t ask out loud.


    She told us she''d take a good look at the house next time she went to the valley. Check if the hills were too steep or if there was a river blocking the path. If not, we could go take a look later during the night.


    "I don''t mean to¡­ be rude, but could you explain why you three through this was a good idea? None of you had Pokemon to protect yourselves, did you?"


    Of course not, do you know how expensive that would be? We''d either have to be trainers, which was a spending our families couldn''t afford, or we''d have to bring in a Pokemon that was considered by the state to be just a pet, which was illegal. Still, Merry had a good knife and knew how to defend herself. We thought that''s all we''d ever need.


    As for why we decided to go¡­ well, we were young, stupid and susceptible to peer pressure. Denna was excited, I just shrugged and said why not because hey, it was something to do. I didn''t want to admit it, but I was also terribly curious about the place. As for Merry¡­ she''d been the one to invite us here, and I''m sure she just wanted us to have a good time. If that meant going to a creepy abandoned house at night then it would be so.


    And finally¡­ well, people in horror stories don''t usually know they''re in one until something bad happens, do they?


    "So you ended up going that night?"


    Yeah, but like I said before, Merry had to check the perimeter first. That afternoon Denna and I didn''t have much to do; it would be a waste of time if we went looking for wood and then it turned out the path to the house was clear. So we just sat around the corpse of the previous bonfire and¡­ talked.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    I won''t repeat what we talked about. I''ll just say that it was one of those rare moments when two friends get a bit more honest and serious than usual, and both end up learning a few things. You know the ones; they usually happen at late hours of the night or in places completely unfamiliar to both of you.


    It was the last one of those conversations I ever had, so I''d rather keep it to myself as well.


    Merry came back an hour later, looking as exhausted and sweaty as the last time. However I didn''t have much time to admire that since she also had a pretty noticeable frown on.


    We asked her what was wrong, and she told us that not only were there no Ditto around, but no one had drank the water from the lake since yesterday. She could tell because the chemical she''d sprayed still sat in the top layer of it, and it should''ve dissolved if a big group of Pokemon drank from it.


    She theorized it might be because of the change in climate; this summer hadn''t been quite as hot as the previous ones. We decided to go with that and told her not to worry; she was gonna get paid either way. We then asked her about the house and she nodded; she hadn''t seen anything blocking the path towards it, and it wasn''t as steep as it appeared at first sight. We could get there in forty minutes, no problem.


    Then her frown came back for a single second, and she said something that put my hair on end:


    ?I also saw a weird mist, it almost looked pink. I guess it''s something with the sun heating up the ground after a cold night or something. Maybe there are some weird plants there that make that happen.?


    She was like that; you couldn''t get a word in before she told you what she thought almost too fast to understand.


    I told her I''d seen the same thing, but we acted like it wasn''t a big deal. At worst it was some weird kind of gas and we did bring gas masks just in case we ran into a pest of Koffing. I personally was beginning to have second thoughts, and I suspect Merry did as well, but we tried our best to ignore it. We packed all the food and beer we''d need for our even more than usual outdoors camping, grabbed a flashlight each and left the cabin as soon as the sun went down.


    Question, do you know the difference between an empty, lit room and one that''s completely in the dark? How would you feel if you were in either of them?


    "I¡­ don''t think I''d feel any different. I''m used to being alone in the dark. I like it."


    Alright¡­ not gonna read into that as much as I should, but here''s another comparison. How about a big room full of people you don''t know, and the same thing but all the lights are off? What''s the difference there.


    "I''d want to be more careful."


    Of course. And if the idea just happens to pop into your head that maybe, just maybe, there''s a reason the lights are off and one of those people might be dangerous, who can blame you for freaking out? Who can blame you for jumping at every little sound and wanting to find a source of light as quick as you could?


    That''s how the trek was, at least for me. The distant cries of Pokemon and the sounds of crunching leaves weren''t charming or distracting anymore. Every pair of eyes I saw atop the trees gave me a mini heart attack. I was as tense and jumpy as a first time whore and unlike them I wasn''t getting paid.


    Merry walked in front of me, pointing her flashlight forward with clear experience. She stomped the ground like she owned the place and her face was remarkably blank. I could see her shoulders tense, but that was about as much as her nervousness showed. Denna was another story, her eyes were as wide as a Hoothoot''s. I''d never seen someone so excited and anxious at the same time.


    In the intersection between two small hills we saw the small riverbed that told us we were close to the valley. It wasn''t very wide, as much as a truck you could say. We had to cross it; normally I''d have no problem with getting my feet wet but¡­


    I stomped the shallow, running water, and the sound my shoe made when I lifted it was terribly familiar. The nightmare; the screams and the rain and the growling stomp against mud. It wasn''t exactly the same; just close enough that I stood there frozen for a moment. I could feel the cold of the riverbed climbing through my entire body.


    I forced myself to keep walking. I didn''t want to bother my friends again with my dream nonsense and we were close already. There was nothing to worry about.


    Merry stopped a few steps after clearing the riverbed. She frowned, looked up and breathed in deeply. As if she were sniffing for a familiar scent. Then she turned towards us and spoke:


    ?Rain''s coming. Let''s hurry.?


    There was an edge to her voice that would''ve normally worried me, but considering what I was just thinking about it fucking terrified me. I wasn''t in any place to argue; if anyone could sense a coming storm then that was definitely her. Still, I chastised myself for being superstitious and stupid and told my legs to keep walking.


    We crossed through the valley, circling the lake until we got to the other side. I tried my best to contain my curiosity, but before we left I shone the flashlight at the surface. Pale yellow. The color of the chemical Merry sprayed earlier that afternoon. Untouched, just like the day before.


    [Her hands are so strongly wringed together that her knuckles have turned white. She''s not as above this as she think she is.]


    "Did it take you a long time to find the cabin?"


    Not as much as we thought. You''d expect a black building to be harder to find at night, but once you shine a light at it you can see it from pretty far away. It freaked me out at first; I thought it was a solid shadow or something, then I told myself I was stupid and alerted the rest.


    It wasn''t easy to get there, which should''ve raised a few flags on its own. No path leading to the place, no sign of any human presence and, unless I didn''t shine the flashlight at the right place, no footsteps anywhere near the door. That might''ve calmed my nerves if it weren''t for that fucking mist all around us. It was so faint that I barely noticed I was walking through it until I saw it turn thicker in the distance. I shook my head and concentrated on the building.


    Now that we were closer I noticed you couldn''t peek into the place from outside; no windows nor peephole. It wasn''t a house, I realized, but some kind of weird shelter, like a miniature hangar. Who the hell would build something like that in the middle of a forest?


    "Was there any kind of identifiable mark on the outside?"


    Yeah, a weird symbol on the left side of the wall. It was like¡­ a circle, with two vines interlacing inside. It was painted white and pretty much the only thing you could see without shining a flashlight at it.


    [I inhale sharply, and try my best to disguise it as a cough. Kate stares weirdly at me for a moment, but continues with the story shortly after.]


    Anyway, when Merry went to open the door I noticed it was twice as wide as a normal one and made of metal. There was a big handle that connected with a similar one on the side of the entrance, where a lock would normally be. But there wasn''t anything like that and with a bit of force she managed to open it. It slid to the side with an awful whirr, like the sound a Magneton makes. Made my damn teeth hurt.


    The inside was the maw of a fucking Arcanine. None of us wanted to be the first to raise the flashlight, and I could feel a clear tension in the air that was definitely not my imagination that time. Finally Merry raised her hand and the cone of light showed us about five percent of what was inside.


    I''m not proud to admit that I was a bit disappointed, even if that makes me a dumbass. The place was maybe twice as big as the living room of our cabin, and at first sight there wasn''t anything odd lying around. A couple metal tables, a thrown chair close to us, a bed on the far side of the room and a wardrobe that doubled as a place to put books in.


    ?Someone''s been living here.?


    We''d been in silence for so long that Merry''s voice scared the soul out of me. She spoke with authority, as if she couldn''t possibly be wrong, and then stepped inside. Denna followed excitedly. Me, not so much.


    Three cones of light moved all around, revealing the rest of the room. I noticed a small pile of canned food and water bottles on the left corner of the room, and I almost tripped on one of them as I walked. The top of the nearest table was covered in something like¡­ white goo, lots of droplets. It took me a few seconds to realize they were melted candles.


    At my right hung a metal box the size of a T.V, formed of about twenty filing cabinets. Against my better judgment I opened a few, but there didn''t seem to be anything inside. I pointed the light at the ground again; there was some sort of book in the ground. A short tome, leather bound and with a small lock like that of a diary. I''m pretty sure that''s exactly what it was; in the cover there was something written with sharpie:


    Property of Mark Reagan.


    "Interesting. What was written inside? Did the diary belong to the owner of that building?"


    I just told you it was locked, didn''t I? I didn''t get to read it.


    "Couldn''t you have opened it with a knife or some tool at your disposal?"


    [I realize a little too late just how irritated I sound. I try my best to control the voice of my volume, though Kate is already staring strangely at me.]


    I had no reason to waste time on that, and I''ve never been good with tools anyway. I just picked it up and left it on top of the table.


    I heard Denna speak from in front of the bed:


    ?There''s a light switch here, but it ain''t working. Bulbs must be busted.?


    So that''s what those clicking sounds were. I kept walking towards the other side, and if it weren''t for Merry catching me I would''ve broken my fucking head open when I fell.


    There were stairs, and I took the first step into them without realizing. Once I gathered my wits and told her and Denna that I was okay, we all shone the light in front of me. They didn''t lead into any kind of basement; in fact they stopped after going down no more than seven feet. The only thing at the end of it was¡­ another door.


    "Like the one at the entrance?"


    Not even close, even if both were made of metal. This one was¡­ fuck, I don''t even know, out of a movie or something. You know when they go into some top secret facility and the door is super thick and locked and the edges are marked with yellow and black tape? Kind of like that, it even had a panel and a keyboard to input a password on the side.


    It began to rain then, and the sound of water against the sheet roof startled all of us. In less than a minute it went from a light drizzle to an all out storm, lightning and thunder and all the fucking charade. It started to pour a bit on the sides and through a few holes, though not enough to be a problem.


    ?I guess we''re staying here for the night.?


    I tried to make it sound like a joke, but my voice betrayed me. Merry and Denna did not fail to pick that up, and at least the first mirrored the discomfort in my expression.


    ?This is a good refuge, even if we can''t light a fire inside. Let''s look for candles and start drinking, I guess.?


    I did not protest to that, anything to get my mind off this creepy place. We unpacked in the middle of the room and sat on the floor, since there weren''t enough chairs anyway.


    "You did not investigate the door further?"


    We gave it one try, but the thing wouldn''t budge and the panel was also busted. And, as far as we knew, there wasn''t anything else around to entertain another triple flashlight search. If anything of interest was there, we would find out in the morning.


    Or would have, anyway. Never made it to that point.


    [Kate noticeably fidgets. Even though she tries to hide it I notice her breathing getting shallower.]


    Can we¡­ move this along a bit? I''m sorry if I kinda distort the feel of the story or whatever, but I''d really like to get this over with. I think I''m starting to get a headache. S''been a while since I talked so much.


    "Of course. Did you all spend the night in there?"


    Tried to, anyway. Conversation didn''t get far that night. We speculated for a while about what the hangar might be, but it was clear Denna was the only one really eager to talk about it. I was nervous; anxious. For the first time in my life I actually welcomed the chance to go to sleep, even if it had to be on a concrete floor.


    We extinguished the candles a few minutes after and lied down in a triangle, just in case. Merry tried to be subtle, but I saw her grab the knife from her pocket and put it under her pillow. Denna moved nervously, but she was the first one to fall asleep. I was the last.


    The pitter patter of the rain made a little rhythm when it fell on the metal roof, and it was a sound so consistent it actually helped me relax. As I sunk into unconsciousness I started to wonder things my mind didn''t have the energy to solve. What was this place? What use did it have? Why was it so warm and cozy if there was a rainstorm and it was the middle of the night?


    The last thing I remember before falling asleep was the smell of something sweet and sharp, like a sitrus berry.


    "Did the nightmares come that night as well?"


    I¡­ am not sure. I still don''t know if my dreams were what caused it or if that thing was already outside, waiting for us.


    "What thing?"


    The creature¡­ from my nightmares. I can''t describe it, not because I''m scared but because I wouldn''t know where to begin. It never had a real shape, it always hid in the shadows and let me fill the gaps with my imagination. Sometimes it would change from dream to dream but it was always there, at the foot of my bed. Staring with empty eyes. Waiting.


    The next thing I remember is Merry kicking me awake. I know she meant to just move me over a bit with her feet, but I fell to the side on my face and woke up tasting dust and dirt. I got to my feet like a spring, the memory of my dreams still fresh in my mind.


    ?There is no way it could''ve opened by accident, Denna!?


    Merry was arguing, pointing at the door leading outside. Her eyebrows were so knitted they looked like it was just one, and I recognized that as a sign of danger.


    I asked them what was going on, and they told me that Merry had woken up a bit and saw that the door had been opened. Just a few inches, but it still alarmed her enough to wake everyone up. She told us the door was too heavy for the wind to have slid it open, and that it had to be either a person or a Pokemon capable of opening doors.


    "What did you think?"


    I was not in the proper mental state to do much thinking, half terrified and half asleep, but I tried my best to come up with a logical explanation. Maybe someone did live in this place, and when they came back at night and found three teenagers sleeping in the floor... well, what would you do? Stay outside and wait? Wake them up and chance getting murdered? Or perhaps walk to the nearest town and ask the authorities for help? Wysteria wasn''t more than a couple miles away.


    Denna said it was probably just an ax murderer, and I noticed she was only half joking. Merry glared her down and said that we would go with my theory. I asked what were we supposed to do now, since I sure as fuck was not going to go back to sleep.


    After a bit of arguing we decided to head back to our cabin, for safety''s sake. It would take at least twice as much to get there with all the mud and rain, and we''d have to be careful not to tumble and accidentally break our necks. Still, we felt it was better than waiting in a cold hangar for some guy to come and slit all our throats in the middle of the night.


    "Were you not worried about hypothermia?"


    It wasn''t that cold, and we had heaters in the cabin. Pokemon would also be more wary of attacking anyone, so as long as we walked slowly and carefully the worst that''d happen is we''d get our clothes soaked. We would also lose the beer, unfortunately, but there were plenty more where those came from.


    Finding the valley wasn''t difficult from that side, though we had to go slowly since it was uphill and there was mud all around us. Even though we were surrounded by tress the rain just wouldn''t let on. It made it impossible to see anything more than a few feet ahead with the flashlight.


    The only exception was the mist; it was all around, thicker as we went ahead and thinner behind us. I''m an idiot for not realizing back then what that meant, hell it even smelled citric like before. We kept walking, and even through the sound of the rain I heard the breathing of my friends next to me. They were stiff and their arms were shaking, and not because of the cold.


    We saw it for the first time when we went over the hill and into the valley. I didn''t notice it at first, and I might''ve walked right past it if Denna hadn''t shone a flashlight at it. She did it unconsciously, moving it away for a second before her brain registered what her eyes had seen. Then, with a yelp, she pointed at it again. We all turned towards it.


    There was a dead man laying on his back, close to the edge of the lake. His eyes were closed and his face looked so peaceful one could think he was asleep, were it not for the fact that his ribcage was torn apart. There was something on top of him, burying its snout on his insides.


    "Was it a Pokemon?"


    No, at least the one we saw right there at the lake. At first I didn''t even realize there was a creature, until it noticed us and raised its snout. Our lights seemed to bounce off its body, just like with the hangar, and to this day I''m still not sure of its exact shape.


    All I know is that it had four limbs, and they were folded like those of a Spinarak. Unlike them, however, they were as thick as human limbs and similarly fleshy. Its body was thin and suspended under its knees. There was a crack where its stomach should''ve been, and inside there was nothing but shadows.


    I recognized it. It was the creature from my nightmares.


    "You said you''d never seen it, and that it sometimes changed shape. How can you be sure?"


    The eyes. They were the same ones I saw every time I went to sleep. The hollowness, the depth, the fact that they seemed punctured in with burning coals almost too deep to see. I remember them so well I can picture them right now without even closing my eyes.


    It saw us. The body lowered a bit, like those of some animals do when they notice a presence. For a moment it looked stunned, as if it couldn''t decide whether to run away or attack us. I could swear the silence of that moment lasted for like an hour, until Denna let out a scream.


    It wasn''t the kind of scream you hear in horror movies, all high pitched and fake. This one was¡­ potent. Her body shook as it went from her lungs to her lips, and it was like no sound I''d ever heard before. I guess I wasn''t too accustomed to the sound of people screaming for their lives.


    [A faint, dry smile flashes across her lips. Her eyes are faded and hollow; I''ve never seen someone look so tired.]


    It ran towards us. The way it moved¡­ it was as fast and swift as an Ariados, but every time one of its feet stomped and left the ground it would make this wet, suction-cup noise that I recognized from my dream in the car. That was the second thing now; though I wasn''t in the right mental state to even consider that. Horror hadn''t even crept in yet; I was still simply in shock.


    That changed when I saw it head towards me, as if it knew who had created it. I simply shook and let out a noise that I''m not proud of, and would''ve surely died if it weren''t for Merry.


    She jerked me from the arm to the side with so much strength she dislocated my arm. Not that I''m complaining; it was enough to get me out of the way so that thing would trip and crash into the ground. Pain flared up in my shoulder, and between that and the sudden horror, not to mention the constant noise of the rain, I became so dizzy that I almost fell right on top of that thing.


    Merry screamed something into my ear, and next thing I know we were running. I couldn''t even see from the pain, I had no idea what direction we were headed. I could''ve very well tripped on any small rock or root or even mud, but I guess I''d already used all my bad luck for the day so I was miraculously free from that.


    After almost a minute of running my vision became less blurry, and I saw that we were headed downhill towards what I prayed might be our own camp. Couldn''t be sure, since the mist was so thick I could barely see a few feet ahead of me. I still wasn''t quite myself, but I recognized my friends'' voices next to me; Denna was crying and yelling desperately while Merry told us to keep quiet.


    It wouldn''t have helped anyway. As soon as she said that we heard a growl coming from not too far behind us. No wait, a growl wouldn''t be the right way to describe it. Imagine the sound of someone throwing fresh meat, glass and wood into a shredder, and you''d have something remotely close to what that thing sounded like. It turned my veins to fucking ice.


    We unconsciously stopped when we heard that, and the two seconds gave it enough time to reach us. It jumped from the mist behind one of the trees, landed with a yelp of pain and extended one of its long, spear-like arms towards me.


    Something crashed against it before it could pierce me, and not a second after that thing shrieked in pain. Looking down to what might''ve been its wrist I saw smoke coming of the cut, and next to me Merry stood with her knife held tightly with both hands. She was covered in dirt and soaked to the bones, and her face was a terrible mask of rage.


    I saw hope flash in her eyes for a moment, but then it happened. The wound in that thing''s arm closed in a matter of seconds, leaving it good as new and able to stand up again. That was the first time I ever saw Merry take a step back out of fear.


    Denna was, unfortunately, the closest one to it. In the time it took us to recover from the shock it lunged forward again, and this time its limb connected with its target. It¡­ it went straight through, about as smoothly as knife on a paper napkin. I didn''t hear the sound thanks to the rain. My mind didn''t even register what had happened until I heard Merry scream so loudly she must''ve surely hurt her throat.


    Denna didn''t scream, though. She just looked down at the sharp limb through her stomach and opened her mouth to say something. All that came out was a choking sound, and then her body went limp.


    Merry was on top of the creature a second after. It must''ve took it by surprise because it didn''t react at first. She buried the knife right between the eyes and the thing''s head just¡­ dissipated, like fucking smoke. Then it reformed again a couple of seconds later and Merry did it again. She kept stabbing and stabbing with all the strength in her body, yelling at the top of her lungs. Next to her and in front of me Denna laid face down. The puddle of blood under her was being washed away by the rain.


    I don''t know when I did it, or what willed my body to move, but I grabbed Merry by the collar of the shirt and I pulled her back. At first she looked like she was going to stab me too, but something in my expression must''ve calmed her down a bit. I was crying, I was yelling that we needed to get away, that I didn''t want to die. I was still in shock, and I hadn''t yet fully internalized the fact that my best friend was dead next to me. My mind refused to accept it, so it tucked that fact as deep as it could and put me into auto-pilot. The only thing I wanted was to survie.


    It wasn''t easy to drag Merry away, but she must''ve noticed the creature''s body would keep reforming. Eventually I managed to get her up and we began to run downhill again.


    Logically speaking, we must''ve spent at least fifteen minutes running, but I remember next to nothing of them. The only thing that existed were the growls of the creature behind us, the ever-present mist and the vague hope of making it out alive.


    The mist was as thick as smoke now, and part of me realized we were moving towards its center, to whatever was spewing it out. Whatever it was, it couldn''t be worse than what we were dealing with right now. Or so I would''ve liked to think.


    We were less than two hundred yards from our cabin when we saw the Pokemon; a few feet at our right, in between two trees. I only noticed it because it was glowing pink and floating in the middle of the air. I didn''t stop to stare at it, and I''d say I barely caught a glimpse of it, but I still remember it clearly to this day.


    At first it reminded me of a sleeping Phanpy, though the skin of those Pokemon wasn''t purple and pink and they didn''t levitate. It was curled into itself almost¡­ almost like a fetus. Hell, that''s exactly what it looked like, down to the pulsing flesh and small size. It had a small hole above its eyes and trunk, from where the mist was being expelled. Every time it did I would hear that musical sound, like steam coming out of a teapot.


    It looked¡­ peaceful. I didn''t get much chance to appreciate that, because Merry dragged me along and we kept running until we reached the cabin and then the car.


    "Do you think this Pokemon was responsible for what happened? For bringing that creature into reality?"


    Fuck if I know, go ask the ones who investigated our case if you want to know. Oh wait¡­ you can''t! Those fucking assholes never finished it!


    Merry and I made it out, miraculously, and you know what happened when we got to the car and drove off? You wanna take one fucking bet as to what the authorities did when we explained what had happened? When we were forced to describe in detail how we''d seen our friend get skewered in front of us!?


    "According to my research the investigation was closed due to¡­"


    They fucking ignored it! Oh sure, they went to take a look and promised us they''d find Denna''s body. Never brought it back, nor found any other corpse or bloodstain or anything. They didn''t bother with the weird cabin or the lake or that pink Pokemon either.


    And why the fuck would they? Everyone knew summers were dangerous in the woods near Fucshia and Wysteria; it wasn''t uncommon for people to die up there, eaten by wild Pokemon. Sure they''d act surprised and caring, but why would they bother looking through that enormous place for evidence? It wasn''t like a human had killed us, and they assured us that the thing we saw was nothing more than a local Pokemon, and that our scared minds turned it into something it wasn''t.


    There was nothing we could do, so we had to accept that. Had to go to Denna''s funeral while knowing everyone thought us responsible for her fate, and after a while even Merry got that idea.


    I haven''t seen her in two years. At first she tried to act like nothing had happened but¡­ we were in different cities now that we were in college, and she must''ve put two and two together. It was my fault Denna was killed; that monster was my monster. If it weren''t for my nightmares she might still be alive today, sitting in front of me instead of¡­ you.


    [I''m about to assure her that it wasn''t her fault when I notice the anger behind her eyes. I''m sure that if I were to do that she''d throw her glass of water to my face.]


    Wanna know what''s funny? Wanna know the reason Merry''s job hadn''t been done by anyone the year before? Apparently there had been some construction in that part of the mountains during the previous summer. No information online about what was being built, or who''d paid the workers to build it. All I could find out was that the zone had been restricted, and no one with less authority than a Gym Leader could enter.


    Makes you think, doesn''t it?


    [She glares at me, and I nod weakly. The cabin, the wisteria logo on the side of it and the mysterious door inside. I have the clues I came here for.]


    "Is there anything more you''d like to mention?"


    I think I''m starting to get migraines, and my throat hurts from speaking so much. The only thing I want right now is for you to leave so I can get some food and sleep.


    "I¡­ understand. Thank you so much for the interview, and I am terribly sorry for what happened to you and your friends."


    [She eyes me up for a few seconds, probably trying to determine whether I''m sincere. She seems to realize I am, and a flash of anger gleams behind her eyes.]


    Go fuck yourself.


    <hr>


    Tulip Glasslip here.


    I believe I know exactly what my next step is. I''m not looking forward to it, but if there''s even the smallest chance that the diary Kate mentioned is still there ¡­


    Of course, I''ll head there during the day just to be safe, and I''ll take preemptive steps so that no one can follow me. Kate''s story, unlike that of many, happened after the Wysteria incident, so the place might not be guarded in any way.


    Just to make sure, I''ll program this entry to be posted two days after I presume I''ll be back from that journey. If I''ve made it safely to my hotel by then, I will write so here below before the entry goes up:

 Entry #4: Ventusa

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    I woke up in my car less than three hours ago. I have absolutely no memory of the past ten days.


    The car is parked on the side of Route 14 and judging by the mild heat inside it hasn''t been here for long. I had absolutely no idea where I was or how much time had passed when I woke up, the only thing I remembered was going to the forest and searching for that bunker. Good thing I paid my hotel beforehand, otherwise I might be slightly more wanted than usual.


    I drove towards Fuchsia and tried to get my bearings. I still had my laptop with me, along with the camera I took when I headed to the forest. I remember thinking I should record my expedition just in case I ran across any important findings. Unfortunately, there was no video files inside the camera, as if they''d been deleted. Inside the computer however I found a folder that I do not remember creating before, modified only a hours ago.


    There were three image files inside. The first was a photo of the forest, with the time-stamp of my camera in the bottom right. It looks to be in the middle of the day, judging by the sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches above.


    The second¡­ gave me a few shivers, I''ll admit. It''s taken in the middle of the night, a few hours after the first one. This is strange, as I remember adamantly thinking that I was not going to be inside that forest when the sun went down. The photo is of the side of the black bunker, but there''s a person in front of that white logo. It''s impossible to see their face or determine their gender since there''s poor lighting and they''re wearing an oversized hoodie. The only thing I can tell is that their skin is extremely pale and they''re as skinny as a twig. The corners of the image look blurry, as if this happened just before I turned my camera away; a sign that this is a screenshot of the video that was deleted from it.


    The third is from last night. It''s taken from outside my car; facing the window. I can see myself sleeping, along with the shadow of the person holding the camera against the door.


    Terrified doesn''t even begin to describe how I''m feeling. It took me a while to recover from seeing that, but here I am still writing, I suppose. These three photos are clearly meant to intimidate me, but it will not be that easy. If this person wants me to stop investigating Wysteria then they''ll have to try harder than this.


    Coincidentally, I logged into my website to see if Pruner had written any more comments. Indeed, from the place I last stayed at, it reads as such:


    See a figure pale as snow?


    Night around him black as crow?


    Trees are silent, cold is here.


    The flower man is coming near.


    I''ve seldom wanted to punch someone in the face as much as whoever this person is. Not only is that terrible poetry, but it gives me no useful information. Why the need to be so cryptic? Just come here and stab me in the neck, it''ll be way quicker.


    ¡­In any case, it seems my journey was not entirely fruitless. Inside my bag was a small, leather-bound journal, the one I''d set out to find. In the front it''s written Property of Mark Reagan.


    It took me about forty minutes to get through it, and about half an hour to transcribe the parts that are relevant for all of you to read. I cut out the first three quarters, since they''re merely about the man''s day to day life. At some point his entries stop for a couple months, and the next thing he writes is that he''s in trial for murder. Revenge against someone who attacked his wife, apparently. I apologize for leaving something like that out, but I don''t think displaying this man''s grief for everyone to see would be a good thing to do.


    Here below are the remaining entries after that:


    <hr>


    May 18, 2014


    I fear for my fate. Earlier this morning I''ve been informed that I am to be processed for another jury meeting soon. My lawyer has been honest with me; she does not think I have a chance of coming out of this unscathed. She suggested the possibility of accepting the minimum mandatory sentence, which seems to be my best-case scenario at the moment.


    I told her I could consider it, and unfortunately I''m starting to think I should.


    There is only one thing that can clear my head in a situation like this. Tomorrow promises good weather, so I will head to the hills near Fuchsia for a bit of hiking and fresh air. That might help me come up with a solution, or at the very least form a decision.


    May 19, 2014


    I have made a curious discovery. While hiking around the west coast of Route 14 I''ve come across some sort of cabin, located no more than a mile away from the road and partially hidden by the thick foliage of the place.


    It doesn''t seem to be populated, as I didn''t notice any car nearby nor footsteps near the doors. The windows look dusty and the inside is dark, yet intact. Judging by the pipe work running close to the ground it seems to have running water, and hopefully electricity as well. It doesn''t look like it belongs to a family, perhaps an abandoned ranger''s outpost?


    I admit, certain thoughts have been racing through my mind ever since my discovery. I wouldn''t ever consider such a thing, were it not for the grim possibility of having to live behind bars for the years to come.


    I need to do some thinking. I''ll come back as soon as I can with the excuse of hiking so I can explore the place further.


    May 20, 2014


    The jury meeting has not gone well. A decision will be made next week. I have until then to accept the minimum sentence.


    I''ve come to accept that justice was never in the jury''s best interest. I am proud to have killed that man, and anyone with a lick of sense wouldn''t dare to reprimand me for it. I know I am guilty, and so does the jury.


    Tomorrow, I go hiking.


    May 21, 2014


    The keys for the cabin were under the rug. The inside is cozy and the wood that makes up the walls seems to be sturdy enough. There''s an unused fridge, proper plumbing and two beds along with one table and four chairs.


    Unfortunately, I''ve found evidence that the cabin is still in use, in a way. From a few papers and pamphlets littered around I''ve found out that, once a year, the government sends someone here for an entire week to do some sort of job related to Ditto.


    While this is a troubling development, it could be much worse. This cabin is still my best chance. I need to head back home as to not raise suspicion, but I will be back here again.


    May 22, 2014


    Five days until my sentence is decided. I''m already arranging for a way to transport food and other items to the cabin without anyone noticing.


    May 24, 2014


    Luck has shined on me today.


    While exploring the perimeter of the cabin I came across a beautiful valley with a lake of clear waters. I tested it with my kit and it seems to be drinkable, so I will not have to worry if the cabin''s plumbing malfunctions. However, that is not all.


    I came across yet another construction in the hills, this one even more hidden and inaccessible. It looks like some sort of war-era bunker, made of thick stone and with a sturdy metal roof. There is some sort of insignia painted on the side, though I don''t recognize it.


    Unfortunately, the steel door is shut by a lock. Tomorrow I will come back with my tools; I should be able to gain access.


    May 25, 2014


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    It took an hour of hard work, but I was able to break the lock and take a look inside the bunker.


    I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there were a multitude of old, dusty cans of food lying around, still edible from what I can tell. Enough to last me for at least a few months. However, that was not the most interesting part.


    Aside from a table and some filing cabinets, I found what looks like some sort of blast door, equipped with a password panel. I also discovered several papers lying around the floor, full of words and terms I can''t possibly hope to understand. From what little I could gather from them, this might''ve been some sort of research facility in the past. I can only dream as to where that door might lead; it simply will not open for me.


    While the place doesn''t have plumbing, there does seem to be electricity, enough to power the panel next to the door and the lamp hanging from the roof, at the very least. This should make a good secondary shelter. I might use it when the cabin is about to be occupied during that week.


    Curiously, when I walked out of the bunker I could''ve sworn I saw a strange, almost pink mist in the distance through the forest. I''m no stranger to something like that, but¡­ in the middle of spring? My nerves must be playing tricks on me.


    May 27, 2014


    I have made my decision. Today I declined the minimum sentence, to the dismay and horror of my lawyer. This should give me enough time to stage my escape.


    I will only take with me what is essential. Inside the box I''ll carry with me are my tools, a few change of clothes, plates, vases and utensils¡­ and of course, a picture of my dear. I wouldn''t dream leaving it back here, not after everything that''s happened. Her memory is the only reason I haven''t given up hope yet.


    I know you can''t read this, darling. Still, know that you''re the one who''s keeping me going.


    Tomorrow, I leave.


    May 28, 2014


    It took all day and most of the night, but I believe I am safe.


    I drove towards the intersection between Lavender and the path heading to Fuchsia and left the car there. I then walked through the forest until I reached the cabin and settled myself. I hope they will think I ran out of gas and escaped north.


    I withdrew all the money I could from our bank account before fleeing, just in case. Should my temporary food run out I might be able to head to a nearby town and buy groceries in some shady part of town. However, that is a long time away.


    Finally, I am safe.


    June 2, 2014


    Getting used to my new life is not as easy as I thought, but I suppose I should not complain. I''m lucky not to be trapped behind iron bars.


    I struggle to find good ways to pass the time, besides hiking. In a fit of forgetfulness I forgot to bring any books; perhaps I could buy some in the near future. Not yet; I need my trail to go somewhat cold before that.


    I have plenty of time to think. I might just make use of it.


    June 6, 2014


    I am starting to make peace with this forest, and in a slower pace with myself as well.


    Veronica, I always laughed at the idea of trying out yoga, no matter how much you pushed me to it. I''ve started practicing, and it works wonders for my sleep quality and schedule.


    I wish you could''ve gotten the last laugh on the subject.


    June 9, 2014


    I''ve made acquaintances with a small group of Bellsprout and Venonat. They enjoy the canned food leftovers, and in return they occasionally bring me berries. It''s been so long since I''ve tasted something sweet, I almost cried the first time I took a bite out of one.


    It feels good to have something like friends again.


    June 10, 2014


    I''ve developed a good routine for most days, which might help in preventing me from going mad from boredom. Hiking is a top priority, and these days I do it until I can barely walk.


    I''ve never slept more soundly.


    June 12, 2014


    There isn''t much spring left, and the nights are beginning to get windy. I don''t wish to abuse the electricity in case I am found out, so I might start making small bonfires outside to warm me up. I''m not in any danger by the local Pokemon, after all.


    I''ll see if I can find any Siffo trees. Their wood burns without much smoke or scent, which is just what I need. I''ll follow a few Oddish around, since they''re very attracted to the sap of that particular tree.


    June 14, 2014


    Today I managed to sneak into Fuchsia just before the stores closed. I bought a few books, a six-pack of beer, spices and a good flashlight. These will be invaluable.


    I was tempted to go someplace with internet and look my name up, see if they''re still looking for me. However I considered it too risky to try. Maybe next time.


    June 18, 2014


    I''ve begun to move my hiking slightly west, towards the valley and the black bunker I took the canned goods from. I purified and re-filled all my water bottles in the lake, and I was pleasantly surprised that no Pokemon came to object, considering how eager some are about their drinking spots.


    Now that I mention it, I don''t remember seeing any Pokemon near that area. Perhaps I was simply not paying attention.


    June 19, 2014


    I miss you so much, Veronica. When I dream, you are here with me.


    June 22, 2014


    The group of Venonat have guided me towards a hidden patch of forest with many berry bushes laying around. I promised not to take more than a couple a week, and in exchange I gave them two whole cans of food. Best deal I''ve ever made.


    Guess who''s eating fancy tonight?


    June 23, 2014


    I''ve never been too much a fan of Shauntal''s writing, but this particular book is pretty good. It''s about a kid who wants to be a magician and, unlike a lot of fantasy, he ends up disappointed because magic is nothing like he thought. Also, he''s up to his ass in student loans. Most relatable book I''ve ever read.


    June 24, 2014


    Another trip to the valley, and this time I am sure I neither saw nor heard any Pokemon the higher I went. This troubles me, for some reason.


    The cabin sits as immobile as ever. I believe I saw the mist again in the distance, though I''m not eager to investigate.


    June 28, 2014


    I could''ve sworn I heard some sort of growl coming from outside, but it didn''t sound like any Pokemon I''ve come across in the forest before. It was deep, but not loud. I couldn''t catch all of it since I was partly asleep.


    I hope it was simply a machination of my sleeping mind.


    July 1, 2014


    Summer has started unpacking its bags. I''m afraid I must leave the cabin momentarily.


    If those pamphlets are correct this place will be not only visited but inhabited by someone in a few days. I will move all my possessions to the black bunker and lay there in wait until they''re gone. Worst case scenario they find me and I claim to be a hermit.


    I will head there one week before the date that''s printed here, just in case they come sooner.


    July 6, 2014


    I moved everything to the bunker and cleaned any trace of my presence in this cabin. Tonight is the last night I sleep on this bed for a while, so I better try to enjoy it.


    July 7, 2014


    I''ve grown accustomed to the windows and fresh air of the cabin. The bunker is certainly better than a cell, though if I leave the doors closed the heat is unbearable, and if I open it up all the southern wind enters and blows stuff away.


    I''m also not a fan of sleeping in a makeshift mattress in the floor, but I''ll manage.


    July 8, 2014


    Second day in the bunker, no sight of anyone else around.


    I found that stack of illegible scientific papers again. Might as well give them a read, since I don''t have much else to do here.


    July 10, 2014


    I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sound I cannot remember. I''m also struggling immensely to recall what I dreamt, which is unusual for me.


    In other news, I managed to find the panel''s password amidst all the numbers and gibberish of these papers. I also saw mention of something called the Unovan Project, though who the hell knows what that''s about. I can''t begin to make sense of anything else here. I''ll try out the password tomorrow.


    July 11, 2014


    They''re here. I saw the smoke of their fire in the distance, and walking back to the valley I noticed not only footprints, but a strange powder floating in the surface of the lake. Must be the government workers; I was correct to leave the cabin a few days before the set date. I''ll be careful and not go out much; hopefully they will not see this place.


    I tried the password on the panel today, and it opened with an awful whirr. Unfortunately the inside was what appeared to be a tunnel, heading downwards and carved straight out of the stone, with no lights or support. I am wary to explore further during the night.


    July 12, 2014


    I woke up in a cold sweat, hearing an inhuman sound in the back of my mind. It sounded like the grinding of metal and flesh together, but when I went out to check I found nothing but that strange mist all around me. I definitely haven''t imagined it this time.


    July 12, 2014


    It''s morning. I woke up and tried to open the blast door again, but the power has gone out. Worse yet, when I took a peek outside I noticed the silhouette of a person in the distance, near the valley. A young girl I believe, probably a teenager. She didn''t notice me, but I fear she might''ve seen the bunker.


    Update: another, different girl came to the valley this afternoon and stared intently at the bunker. She even circled around the lake a bit to take a better look. My nerves and lack of sleep are getting the better of me, I don''t know what I should do.


    I''ll try my best to act casual, and if they approach me I''ll go with my hermit story. Hopefully things will go well.


    July 12, 2014


    There is most certainly some sort of creature around this patch of forest. I heard that flesh grinding sound again, this time while I was completely awake.


    I can''t take this anymore. If this is the result of my deteriorating psyche and prolonged isolation, I would at least like to make sure. The sun will go down soon, and I can smell the coming rain in the air. Still, I cannot bear to wait any longer.


    I''ll grab my flashlight and head out. Hopefully I''ll get back before nightfall.


    [That is the last entry posted. Judging from the date and the mention of a coming rainstorm, this must''ve been written the night of Denna''s death.


    The pieces of this story have fallen into place. Hank must''ve been the dead man Kate and her friends found that night.


    I don''t know how to feel knowing I just read someone''s last words.]


    <hr>


    While the diary might not be as revealing as I hoped, it still gave me some important information. The blast door lead to an underground tunnel, and judging by the trajectory and Hank''s guess of its length, I might be able to plot a map of where it leads¡­ somewhat. I have much investigating to do.


    Additionally, the incident with the Musharna is confirmed to be the fault of them. I suspected as much, but it is nice to have solid information on the subject.


    The events of these past days have proved¡­ emotionally taxing, in a way. I''ll try to pilot my next course of action, though I might need a couple days to recover from the shock and try to remember what happened. I will talk to you all next time I have some sort of lead.


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Entry #5: Brachybotrys

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    I need to make this brief; I should''ve been gone from this hotel half an hour ago and I''m sure the cleaning lady will come check any minute now.


    No one has followed me, as far as I know. Pruner hasn''t made any other comments either, which I find strange considering their apparent obsession with my work. I''ve been trying to remember the missing ten days, but absolutely nothing comes to mind. I can only hope that it will not happen again.


    I found a file inside my computer, one that wasn''t there before and I failed to notice last time due to how well hidden it was. It appears to be some sort of audio file, though I believe it''s corrupted and no software I have was able to play it. I have an¡­ acquaintance that knows about this sort of stuff, I''ll ask them for help with the matter as soon as I can.


    Finally, I''ve been able to secure an interview with yet another Wysteria ex-citizen. The transcript is here below:


    <hr>


    [Maes is a big, burly man with short hair and a jaw like a shovel. I assume he''s on his mid-thirties, though he doesn''t look the part. Despite his intimidating appearance he has an easy smile and bright, honey eyes.


    He agreed to meet for the interview, though his house is currently going through renovations. As such we''re sharing a table in a nearby caf¨¦, as far away from the rest of the customers as possible. I asked for a small frappuccino and a glass of water, while he got himself a big mug of black coffee with some brandy in it.


    He empties half of it before we begin the interview:]


    Back then we were just kids, even if by all legal means the world considered us adults.


    Small town folk didn''t care about that, y''see. You were called boy regardless of age, until you either got a job or managed to grow a respectable beard, and I''ve never been one for facial hair. I won''t say I took the job to get respect or anything like that, but the idea was in the back of my mind.


    Luckily at the docks people didn''t care whether you were a minor or not. If you could lift up boxes and move them from boats to the hangars you''d get hired. I could do both things no problem since I grew up in my papa''s farm and there was always something to do in there.


    Problem is that lately I''d been staying with my mother, and she was starting to get sick. She didn''t want me to, said she''d rather see me keep up with my studies, but someone had to bring money to the house. Pay wasn''t the best, but we got plenty of rest in between shipment arrivals and they gave us lunch and dinner, latter of which I always brought home and shared with mom.


    I was teased by my coworkers for being the oldest since I''d just turned eighteen, and then teased some more by the sailors who liked to pick at me ''cause of my awful little mustache. It was all in good fun though, and I can think of only one time the thing escalated to punches. It was a good job, overall, or as good as a kid like me could get.


    "Did the Wysteria docks receive a lot of ships per day?"


    Not as much as Vermillion, but a fair amount I''d say. Most were from Olivine over there in Johto. A few were cruise ships from places like Hoenn or Alola, and once or twice we got run down boats full of supplies from Unova. We all knew what they really were, but kept quiet. No one liked a snitch, and I wasn''t gonna lose my job over something stupid like that.


    "Earlier you said: We were just kids at the time. Who is we?"


    Oh, just Marty and a couple other friends from school. Me and him, we practically grew up together over there in the hills. You would''ve never guessed that peeps like us could''ve been friends, judging by where we came from. His parents had lots of money; worked in some kind of company or government agency, I wasn''t sure at the time. Quiet, reserved folk. He couldn''t have been less like them.


    Marty was the tall type, kinda skinny too. Messy hair and freckles, and eyes that spelled no end of trouble. Usually had a broken nose, ''cause he kept getting in fights with the bad kids when they picked up on the younger ones. I joined once or twice, though I wasn''t quite as gun ho'' as he was.


    He and the others from our group of friends sometimes came to hang out with me at the docks after school, though it was usually just Marty. We''d chill out and eat sandwiches, watching the waves and talking about menial things, like what kind of boat would prop up next. We always hoped it''d be a pirate ship, or one where all the people on board had been mysteriously killed. We made up stories about the people we saw, wondering what drove them to go out there to sea. We were dumb kids, y''see, and we never even considered the idea of getting out of town for any reason. It was our home, what would we do without it?


    Those were good times, they were. Sometimes I forget how simple things were back then. We had all the time in the world for ourselves, and we wasted the hell out of it like good kids are supposed to do.


    "Did you ever see something strange while working at the docks? Any unusual ships?"


    [He blinks a few times, his smile going cold in his lips. It''s as if he''s forgotten for a moment that I am here.]


    Right, right. Sorry, kinda got caught up in reminiscing.


    Yeah¡­ the whole thing was like a slide, things went progressively south, too fast to really understand. Though I guess that''s just me and Marty getting into trouble like usual.


    The first time was a winter night. I remember it perfectly because we were freezing our asses off and I couldn''t wait to get back home and bury myself in blankets. We were usually laid off before the sun went down, but that day a cargo ship accidentally bumped the edge of the docks and let one of the boxes fall to the floor. A box full of beer bottles, might I add. That day it was only me, Marty and some other younger kid, so we were the ones who had to clean the damn thing.


    We got finished with that when it started to get dark. The other boy went back to his house, but me and Marty stayed behind for half an hour more to close up the docks and make sure everything was in order before we left. By the time we were ready to leave, the lighthouse in the distance had already been turned on, and was pointing at some place east in the middle of the sea. Hard to say where, with all the mist.


    Had we left a couple minutes sooner we wouldn''t have seen it, but we were known to have awful luck. Just as I finished checking out everything Marty called me from the other side of the dock by whistling. He pointed at a spot in the sea where the lighthouse was illuminating, and after forcing my sight I noticed there was another ship coming.


    I''ll never forget the look we gave each other when we saw it, nor the sparkle in Marty''s eye. I''d seen it a million times before, it was the one he got just before coming up with stupid ideas.


    We didn''t even need to talk it over; Marty crouched behind one of the metal cargo boxes and I followed. We sneaked in closer to the north side of the dock while trying to stay silent, and I daresay we did a pretty darn good job of it. The ship didn''t look so big from up close; it reminded me of those cruise jets rich people threw parties in, though this one clearly wasn''t built for that. It was painted all black and if I hadn''t seen it approach I wouldn''t have noticed it at a first glance.


    "Was anyone waiting for it on shore?"


    Not that we could see; it was starting to get real dark and all the lights had been turned off. We were one of the few towns that didn''t have to worry about security on our docks. It would''ve been more common to meet one of the legendary birds than to see someone try to steal stuff.


    "Were they thieves?"


    No, as I said those were really rare. The first thought that came to our minds was that it had to be some sort of illegal shipment, and I mean more illegal than those who dropped in the middle of the day, which was saying something. We''d all been warned not to stick our noses in those kinda businesses; I remember one of the kids that worked with us accepted some extra payment to help unload the boxes of a certain drug shipment and keep it secret¡­ let''s just say it didn''t end well.


    So yeah, I figured it had to be something a bit more illegal than drugs. Maybe weapons or some sort of human trafficking, though the last one would''ve been more fit for a city like Vermillion. We didn''t do that sorta thing in Wysteria, as far as I know.


    The port was divided into several categories where ships could arrive; the spots closer to the city were reserved for emergency shipments and tourist boats, while the ones farther away were for drops of lesser importance. This one was in the furthermost spot, in between two stacks of metal boxes that made it impossible to see it from almost every angle.


    Four people disembarked, all wearing the same dark suits that made them just as hard to see as the boat. They stood around for a while, talking amongst themselves and fiddling with their cell phones. I could make out a couple of words but nothing substantial. Package, schedule, petal, lighthouse and something that sounded like a Pokemon''s name. Never been a trainer myself and neither was anyone I knew, so no wonder I had no idea what species they''d just mentioned. If I had then things might''ve worked out a bit differently.


    "What happened after? Did you two get involved?"


    We might''ve been stupid and reckless, but not that much. We spied them from behind the metal box for a while. I was starting to get worried, though not enough to turn back, and Marty had plenty of excitement in him for the both of us. There was something special about sneaking up on things that are supposed to be secret¡­ can''t blame kids like us for wanting to know the truth.


    [I try my best to suppress the sad smile that forms on my lips.]


    In the end they did take something off the boat, though at first we didn''t realize what they were. To us they just looked like barrels, the kind you put alcohol into, though they didn''t make that typical sloush sound as if they were full of liquid. And whatever was inside must''ve been in one piece because the only thing we heard as those people moved the barrels were occasional thumps of something hitting against the wood. Judging by the way they were carrying them and the look of those strangers I guessed that what was inside the barrels couldn''t have weighed more than a hundred pounds each.


    "How many where there?"


    Three; one for each person and the fourth guy told them where to go. At first I thought they were looking for one of the hangars; that''s where all the fragile and important shipments were taken. But instead they took a sharp left and left the docks, walking uphill through the path that took you to the lighthouse.


    I saw the glint in Marty''s eye, but I had to stop him before he took another step. We couldn''t keep going, I told him, because in the path there wasn''t anything for us to hide behind if they happened to hear us. Besides, I was getting a really bad vibe from those suited guys and it was getting pretty late. You haven''t known fear if you haven''t come home in the middle of the night and your mom was there, waiting for an explanation.


    [He begins to laugh, which then morphs into a fit of coughing. He takes another chug of the cup, clearing his throat.]


    Marty didn''t move for a few seconds. At first I thought he was thinking of a way we could make it work, and if anyone could then that was surely him. But then I noticed that he¡­ well, his expression was kinda scrunched up. He was staring at those people weird, and his smile wasn''t there anymore. I asked what was wrong, but he told me not to worry about it.


    We agreed to go back for now, but it was already too late for two idiots like us. We were way too curious, and on the walk back home we couldn''t stop talking about what we''d seen and wondering who those people could''ve been. Marty seemed strangely¡­ obsessed with it, I''d never seen him frown so much. At one point he began mentioning how those suits looked familiar but¡­ no, it was probably nothing, he said. A lot of people wore suits, after all. Even if they were weird and kinda purple and had some weird white insignia on them.


    Any smart kid would''ve left the matter alone, mind their own business and go do other kinds of stupid shit. Even smarter kids would''ve told the authorities what they''d seen or their parents or any other adult. Too bad we were¡­ well, us.


    The next day we talked about what we''d seen with our friends at school, though we made sure no one outside our little circle could listen. We took pride in having found something akin to a big secret like that, and wanted to keep it to ourselves. Besides, we discussed the possibility of going to the lighthouse to see if we could find anything interesting, and didn''t want any other kids from going there before we could. It was like a treasure hunt, albeit an odd and dangerous one.


    "Did all of you go together, the next night?"


    Are you insane? We weren''t that thoughtless; if we were to do anything then it''d be at the crack of dawn, when there was no chance of people spotting us.


    We ran into a few scheduling problems; Carlos couldn''t go the next day because his brother would take him fishing in the morning, and Marty had gotten into trouble with his parents over something he didn''t want to share with us. I raised an eyebrow at that, since we''d never been ones to keep secrets from each other, but I let it pass.


    We decided to go not the next dawn, but the one after that. We discussed the exact place to meet, on the west-wing outside the docks which was hidden by a bunch of trees, and made plans on how to proceed from there and who should bring what. We agreed that Marty and I would stay a bit later that day to see if those people came back, and to make sure it really was the lighthouse they were headed to.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "I''m guessing things didn''t go according to plan, if the summary you gave me of the story is any indication of it."


    Heh, ya'' think?


    The first sign of danger came that afternoon. I went to work like usual and had a pretty normal day, even if it was Saturday and we were getting more shipments than usual because it was the end of the week. I was pretty tired by the end of my shift but I was determined to say a couple hours more and check if they came back.


    I asked the boss to let me be the one to close up the docks since I had free time anyway. After I was finished with that I headed back behind the same metal box we hid in last night and waited for Marty to arrive. The sun was beginning to go down.


    He didn''t come. I waited for a whole hour, getting progressively more worried as time went on. Maybe his parents had grounded him, or something had happened while he was on the way here. Still, I didn''t have much choice but to stay and wait, even if doing it alone wasn''t what I would''ve called a good time.


    I saw the black boat in the distance, about twenty minutes later. Last night I hadn''t paid much attention, but now that I was alone I noticed that its engine didn''t make any sound, which was a strange thing to invest on in a ship.


    It stopped on the same spot as last night, but this time only two people came out of it and began to unload the barrels. The ones missing were a man and a woman, the two that I remember were arguing with each other. This time they didn''t waste any time, they only exchanged a few words and picked up the barrels afterwards. Since there were only two of them they had to go slower, which gave me a chance to try and listen in on their conversation.


    I couldn''t hear much, only that they were complaining about having to transport everything themselves. I could''ve sworn I heard one of them mention the name Miller, which was Marty''s last name but¡­ no, it couldn''t be. They were too far away and I had misunderstood.


    I didn''t follow them, since without Marty I was even less enthusiastic about risking my life. However I''d brought my dad''s binoculars with me and I followed them with my sight all the way until they went into the lighthouse. That confirmed it; that really was the place where they stored those barrels. With that out of the way I jumped the fence of the docks and ran back to my house.


    The next day Marty didn''t come to school. I asked the teacher and she told me that Marty''s parents had called ahead of time; they told her he''d caught a cold and was resting in bed. Still, it seemed strange that he wouldn''t at least call to my house and let me know; we were best pals after all.


    The rest of the group was anxious to go to the lighthouse and it wouldn''t have been cool of me to rely on Marty too much. I told them what I''d seen and reiterated what we''d agreed on the day before. What to bring, where to meet, etc. I told them I''d swing by Marty''s house later and let him know, before I went to work.


    "Did you manage to contact him?"


    No. I knocked as hard as I could on his door but no one answered. I walked back to their garage and I noticed that his mom''s car wasn''t in there; maybe they''d taken him to the hospital? I began to worry, but not as much as I should have. I knew Marty was a tough nut, there was no way something like a cold would do him in.


    Still, this meant he probably wouldn''t come with us to the lighthouse, which left me as the group leader. I wasn''t exactly enthusiastic about that, what with my anxiety, but I decided to give it a shot anyway. What was the worst that could happen?


    Right¡­ yeah. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and slap myself in the face.


    [I try to hide my sudden smile.]


    "I know the feeling. Did your trip turn unfruitful as quickly as I''m imagining?"


    That''s putting it lightly.


    It was Sunday in the afternoon. It had been a slow day, which gave me enough time to sneak in my backpack from the workers lounge to inside one of the metal boxes on the far east end of the docks. This time I would go back home early, since my mother had been pretty angry that I''d been coming home so late the past two nights. She kept asking me if I had a girlfriend or something like that¡­ god bless her, that oblivious, wonderful woman. Wrong problem and wrong gender, for one thing, but she tried.


    That night I went to bed early. I put on the alarm for four in the morning, not too loud so that only I would hear it. I''d gone to sleep with my clothes on, so I was ready to hop off the window the moment I woke up.


    Coraline was there before me, and Carlos arrived a few minutes later. No sign whatsoever of Marty, though. I knew there wasn''t much chance he''d come by with a cold.


    We retrieved the backpack from the container and I made sure the black boat wasn''t there anymore; we''d agreed that if it was we would go back and try another day. Luckily that particular spot was empty. We began walking uphill towards the lighthouse; I was the only one carrying a flashlight. It was my dad''s; military made and pretty powerful. I kept it off for now, it was only there for emergencies.


    We had about an hour or so before the sun came up and people started waking up, so we hurried along. The lighthouse had been built on a steep hill next to the shore, on the other side of the road and far away enough that it wasn''t technically part of the city, even if people associated Wysteria with it.


    "Was anyone inside of it at the time?"


    Well¡­ that''s the thing, ain''t it? In all our worry to see if those suited guys had their boat parked in the docks we never considered the fact that someone else might''ve been living inside. We hadn''t exactly thought things through; after all, someone had to be up there to turn on and off the lights every day, right?


    I''d hesitate to call it lucky, but that wasn''t the case, and that''s where things started to not make sense. The door was unlocked for one thing, and it didn''t seem like it''d been locked recently at all. I noticed the footsteps in the dirt leading in and out, though I couldn''t tell which ones were more recent.


    Our original plan had Carlos staying outside to see if anyone came back, while the rest of us studied the inside. However without Marty we decided to scratch that and all three of us entered the lighthouse.


    I don''t know what I expected. Maybe I''d read too many story books but I thought the main room would be some sort of house or quarters to live in; maybe with a table and some chairs. I couldn''t have been more wrong; the only thing in sight were six of those barrels and the stone staircase leading up to the light room. It was painted white; not that you could tell with all the filth and humidity it had in it. The walls weren''t even that; just a bunch of bricks stuck together and covered in cobwebs. The most bizarre thing however was a small, square indenture in the walls where it looked like a chimney would''ve been built. It even had a bunch of ash inside. If any of us had been smart we would''ve found it weird, considering there were no windows and there was no way to use it without suffocating due to the smoke, but we were too anxious and distracted for that.


    "Checking out the barrels, I presume?"


    There wasn''t much to check out; they were empty.


    Well, mostly. The lids had been taken off, and the dust smears in the ground made it look like it had happened recently. The insides were surprisingly clean, so it probably wasn''t alcohol or drugs what they were carrying. The floor of one of them was slightly wet and it smelled funny. Another one had what looked like scratch marks on the inside. Probably some sort of animal then, I thought.


    At the bottom of one of them there was a loose piece of green fabric that looked like a handkerchief, but bigger. It reminded me terribly of that awful bandana Marty liked to wear around his neck, but this one was too dirty and torn up, it couldn''t possibly be it.


    I figured they had probably taken whatever was inside to the room at the top, so I told Carlos to wait down while Coraline and I went to check that out. We had to go slow and watch our step, since I still didn''t want to use the flashlight just in case someone happened to be there. Had I been smart I would''ve turned the fucker on and then switch it to the highest setting, but I guess hindsight is 20/20.


    The only thing we found on the top room was the machine that gave off light. It looked like a glass disc divided into a bunch of sections, sitting on top of a machine that could rotate. A bunch of cables ran from the floor towards it, which I remember I found rather reckless. My mom had worked on a place full of dangerous machines and she constantly told me she never wanted to see a wire on the floor; those were dangerous.


    I stood there without moving while Coraline explored. There was something strange, but I couldn''t quite put my finger on it. I''d seen those cables run down the walls of the staircase to the main room, but where did they go from there? I didn''t remember there being any kind of generator. Maybe it went underground? But from where? There wasn''t any¡­


    That''s when it hit me; that chimney looking thing in the wall. It was wide enough that a trap door could be hidden under the ash.


    "And that would be where those suited men took the contents of the barrel to."


    My train of thought exactly. Too bad I didn''t get much time to test that theory.


    We heard steps coming from the base floor, really hurried, pretty much stomping. Carlos appeared at the landing of the stairs, looking like he''d seen a ghost. His hair was all ruffled and his cheeks were red. He blurted out before we could ask him what was wrong:


    ?I heard people talking under the floor! I think they''re coming here!?


    I don''t think Coraline understood why I freaked out so much at the sound of that. I immediately told them we needed to go and started walking, well, pretty much running down the stairs. I heard their steps behind me but I was too anxious to look back. If what Carlos had said was true then those guys could climb the trapdoor any minute and find us there.


    [He noticeably fidgets as he takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. I don''t interrupt while he struggles to light it up with his slightly shaking fingers, nor do I point out that this is a no-smoke zone. I figure the man has earned this.]


    That''s where it should''ve ended. We should''ve reached the base floor and escaped before anything could happen. It was the fair thing. We were just kids, dammit.


    It took me longer to notice than it should have, and when I did the panic started to bubble pretty badly. The fear snuck up on me. Didn''t it take us less time to walk upstairs? Why were there so many steps? Was it just me or were the walls getting darker as we went down?


    The worst part wasn''t realizing it, but hearing someone else say it out loud. Up to that point I could''ve pinned it all on my own imagination and the fear I was feeling, but the moment Coraline pointed out that we should''ve reached the bottom already¡­ I really don''t know how to explain it. Never in my life have I felt so much panic, and I doubt I ever will.


    I told her we were almost there and kept going down, pretty must jumping the steps as fast as I could. Still, there was no end to the spiral staircase, nor windows to look out from. It slowly began to dawn on me that we were trapped, and I did not take that well. I heard Carlos'' sobbing behind me and tried to ignore it as hard as I could.


    That''s when I heard that laugh, and I froze. My friends crashed into my back and almost sent us downstairs rolling, but I managed to stay up. For a few seconds we heard nothing, and then it happened again. The only reason I say it was a laugh is because it''s the only thing I can think of. It didn''t sound like one much, and just hearing it made my blood run cold.


    Since we were in a spiral staircase we couldn''t see much further from where we were. Still, we noticed that the walls were getting unnaturally darker as we went down, and then¡­ all black, completely. I could feel it, it was almost solid.


    "Was it a Pokemon?"


    Y-yeah¡­ we saw its face then. It appeared in the shadows as if it were its body. The eyes were big and red, and it had a really wide grin of white teeth. Wide enough to fit a kid like me inside, was the first thing I thought.


    What happened after is kind of a blur. I remember lots of screaming and crying. We started running upstairs, hoping that we could at least get to the top floor and have a better chance at escaping whatever the hell that thing was. Hell, at that point I was willing to throw myself out of the damn window if that''s what it took.


    But it was the same the other way around. We ran up for far longer than it should''ve taken for us to get there, and still there were only more stairs. My legs hurt so badly and I could feel my lungs burn, but I absolutely refused to stop. As we went we heard that¡­ thing''s laugh behind us, and the walls began to darken as if it were chasing us.


    "Did it ever attack you?"


    No, it didn''t. I don''t know why; maybe it''d been ordered to keep us there until one of them appeared, or maybe it liked toying with us. I almost prefer the first option, though I s''ppose it doesn''t matter much anymore.


    I was the one in the back, since I''d been leading them when we were trying to go downstairs. I felt something¡­ cold, and soft curl around my leg, and the next thing I know I''m tripping into of my friends and we all fall into the steps. I remember hitting my arm badly against the edge, and for a moment everything went black. I heard them grumble in front of me, and that''s when I turned around.


    It was on top of us. Literally, hanging from the ceiling or¡­ floating or some shit. Its body was round and spiky, and it had short legs and arms. If you were to see a drawing of it it wouldn''t look so scary, almost goofy really, but at that moment it was the most terrifying thing I''d ever seen. It cackled again, and the dark in the walls began to spread like tentacles. One of them grabbed my arm, the other one curled around Coraline''s torso¡­


    It was the strangest feeling, I couldn''t really describe it. It felt like those tendrils were made of ice; I began to panic as my muscles went cold. I heard my friends cry and yell in terror behind me. Somehow I knew I was gonna die.


    I can''t honestly say I did what I did consciously. Dunno if it was a reflex or if Arceus saved me, but I grabbed the flashlight from my pocket and I pointed it at that Pokemon. Then I turned it on.


    The light hit it straight in the face, and it began to scream. High pitched, like the sound a knife would make against concrete but many times worse. Still, the flashlight seemed strong enough and it drove it back as it escaped into the walls once more. The darkness around us disappeared, and the staircase went back to normal.


    Well, almost. I could see the end of it a few steps down, but I could also hear voices. Muffled, screaming, angry. I tried to get up but my left arm started hurting badly; it''d probably been broken when I fell down. Besides, Carlos and Coraline were terrified out of their minds, they were still staring at the walls as if expecting that thing to come back.


    I yelled at them to move, and after a few seconds they listened, though by then it was too late. We ran down the staircase as fast as we could, but by the time we made it to the base floor we saw that the trap door had already been opened. One of the suited men had just climbed out of it, while the other one was in the process of doing the same.


    I remember them perfectly, as if it had happened yesterday. I hadn''t noticed before but they wore masks up to their noses, latex gloves and thick, black glasses. The most distinct part of their outfit however was that insignia; the two leafy vines spinning into a circle and¡­ uh¡­


    Tulip? You okay?


    [The sudden shift back to reality startles me. I realize I''ve been breathing too heavily for a while now. I try my best to compose myself, though it''s unclear whether I manage it.]


    "Yes, I''m fine. Please, continue."


    Well¡­ not much more to say. The moment one of them saw us he started running to us, and we did the same in the opposite direction. I didn''t look back, I know that I should''ve but I didn''t. I felt one hand on my shoulder but I shook it off by some miracle, and next thing I knew I was outside and the wind roared in my ears as I ran.


    I would''ve kept going, probably until I collapsed from exhaustion or lack of air, if it weren''t for Coraline yelling. We''d made it to the first streets of Wysteria, next to the road leading to the shore, when I finally stopped. I turned around, struggling to breathe, and saw that there were tears in her eyes. I also saw that Carlos wasn''t there behind us.


    [He shakes his head unconsciously, fingers gripping the cigarette so tightly it''s a miracle he doesn''t break it.]


    I''m sure you heard what happened after. A few hours later, when it was already morning, the police went to investigate the lighthouse and found that it''d been demolished. Boom, gone, all the bricks and stairs and everything fell down as if it were made of fucking paper. They tried digging out the rubbish but it was too much, and they never found the secret trapdoor Caroline and I swore was there.


    They didn''t find Carlos, nor Marty nor his parents. All of them gone, like they''d vanished into air. Or underground, I should say.


    I honestly don''t know what to think. I''m sure it was our fault; if we''d realized that Carlos had been grabbed we would''ve turned around and helped him, maybe fight that suited bastard and give him what was coming to him. Or maybe he would''ve killed us and we would''ve ended up just like Carlos. Hard to say, which is a shame because it''s something I think about pretty regularly.


    [He finishes his cigarette and slams it on the table, since there isn''t any ashtray around. He sighs and leans back into his chair, eyes lost in the distance.]


    We were just kids, dammit. One would think that''d count for something, but it never does.


    <hr>


    Tulip Glasslip here.


    It''s a few hours later, in my new hotel room. Definitely not as fancy, nor does it have a private bathroom, since money has been hard to come by recently.


    In any case, I''ve been investigating the lighthouse incident, along with Marty Miller''s family and their disappearance. It appears his parents'' car was found submerged at the bottom of the sea near the Wysteria shore, with no one inside. There seems to be no information online on who they were or what their line of work was, though after Maes'' story I believe I''m starting to connect the dots.


    Their sudden disappearance, Marty''s clear change in personality and his bandana found at the bottom of a barrel¡­ it can''t be a coincidence. I need to dig deeper into this family, see what I can find. They''re one of the only leads I have left.


    In other news, I''ve sent the file to my friend, and they''ve assured me that they''ll do everything they can to fix it. I can only hope, and wait.


    Unfortunately, so must you.


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Entry #6: Sinensis

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    If there''s at least one thing I pride myself in, that''s being honest with my audience.


    As a reassuring fact it''s not much, but it''s about the only thing I still have right now. I would like to keep up that legacy, even if¡­


    All right, let me try to explain the situation before I make an ass out of myself.


    My friend has fixed the file I sent them. Apparently it wasn''t an audio file at all; well¡­ it was, but it''d been turned into that form its original format as a video file. All it took was to transform it back, which according to them any tech-savvy person would''ve thought to do considering the damn name ended in .avi.


    Anyway, she sent it back and I decided to take a look at it.


    I¡­ there is no way to explain what I saw in few words. I''m beside myself, I don''t even know if I should write this or¡­ I don''t know. I''m not feeling terribly well at the moment.


    Still, what the fuck else can I do right now? I''m tired of all this.


    Since I can''t actually upload the video (showing my physical appearance to the entire world doesn''t sound like the best of ideas), I''ve decided to narrate it for this entry. It''ll be slightly different from my previous ones, mostly because I''ve downed half a bottle of vodka already and I have the remainder here with me as I type, and also because I''ve decided to have some fun with this. Better to laugh than to cry, am I right?


    ¡­Right. As always, narration will be formatted normally while my own thoughts will be in bold and inside brackets. The video takes place the day I went to that bunker in the hills.


    Without further ado¡­ here it is:


    <hr>


    The video starts inside the bunker.


    The camera moves around the room, momentarily stopping on things that might be of interest, even if most of the floor is covered in dried leaves and dirt. The red text on the bottom right corner of the recording announce that it''s seven in the afternoon.


    [Strange, since I distinctly remember heading up the hills during the morning as to not get caught up there when night fell.]


    Careful steps are taken as Tulip walks from one corner to another, camera pointed at the ground. She stops in front of a table next to the wall and the sound of shuffling papers is heard before she remembers the purpose of having a recording device on her. She points the lens at the small bundle of papers as she picks one up and examines it. Glare makes it difficult to make out the words, though it seems as if the ink has mostly been washed away in the past months.


    "God dammit. Should''ve figured."


    She slams the papers on the table and turns the camera around in a sweeping motion, catching the rest of the room leading to the door with the electronic lock. It stops at the side for a moment, abruptly.


    There''s a small gasp, more like a slightly sharp exhalation. Tulip hurries over to the left corner of the room, leaves crunching under her shoes. Judging by the jerky camera movement she probably kneels, filming what she''s found a moment after: under a small bundle of leaves and dirt lays a leather-bound journal that she picks up and shakes as to clean it off.


    The camera is placed on the ground for a moment while the sound of pages being quickly turned fills the room. Tulip whispers something to herself and lets out a hushed laugh, pushing herself to her feet along with the camera.


    Steps, heavier and more enthusiastic than before, are heard. She grabs the only nearby chair and places it in front of the table as she sits on it. She adjusts the camera in the corner facing her, so that most of her body can be seen with the exception of her feet and the top of her head. She''s wearing a plain, white blouse and jean shorts. Her thin metal bracelets tinkle with a metallic sound as she opens the journal and begins to read.


    [This is the part where I stopped the video the first time I watched it.


    I assume some of you are wondering why I described my own outfit, thinking back to my statement about not wanting to reveal my appearance. Well, there''s no danger in this specific instance. Why?


    Because I don''t own any clothes that look like what I''m wearing in this video.


    I hate sleeveless shirts, I despise bracelets and I''m not a huge fan of shorts either. And yet here I am, wearing them in a video I don''t remember filming, not looking uncomfortable at all.


    I went back to check whether I had anything like this in my drawers, but I only found my usual clothes.]


    Tulip reads through the pages for what should be five minutes, but isn''t. At some point after reaching the mid-way point she lowers the journal down, yawns and rubs her eyelids. Then the video freezes.


    Only to un-freeze two seconds after. Tulip opens her eyes, shakes her head sheepishly and goes back to reading. However, the room has suddenly turned a lot darker and the clock of the camera indicates that it''s now 9:13 PM. Two hours have passed, and yet Tulip doesn''t seem to notice at all.


    She keeps reading for about ten minutes, until she turns one of the pages and her expression changes. She lowers one hand to the table and pulls the journal closer, eyebrows knit. She silently whispers something and stands up as if pushed by a spring, grabbing both the journal and the camera as she makes her way to the other side of the room.


    She stops in front of the door, her fingers tapping the side of the camera creating a pitter-patter of excitement and anxiety; a sound quite common to her. Before inputting the password she looks down at the open journal one last time; though she unfortunately doesn''t film it. The panel lets out an electronic beep as the screen turns a bright green.


    A second after, the door opens.


    [I have the journal next to me. I looked through every page again and tried to find anything that could''ve looked like a password to past-me.


    Nothing.]


    The tunnel that it opens to is as dark as an Arcanine''s maw. Tulip hesitates for about five seconds, only remembering then that the camera has a built-in flashlight and turns it on. It''s a lot easier to see now; even if the cone of light doesn''t reach to the part where the tunnel ends. The walls are made of excavated rock; not any kind of concrete or building material, which means it''s probably an unfinished mining project of some sort.


    Either Tulip doesn''t come to the same conclusion or she does and decides to go in anyway.


    [Knowing me it could very well be both; though I''d put my money on the more idiotic option.]


    Strangely, the door does not ominously close behind her as she keeps walking. The hallway is somewhat cramped; about the width of two average adults, but it seems competently dig out considering no part of it has caved in yet. It is awfully dark, however, and what little light the flashlight offers can only reveal a small cone in front of her.


    Judging by the delicate steps and heavy breathing coming from Tulip, one could arrive to the conclusion that she''s regretting not buying the camera that came with night vision, even if it was only marginally more expensive than the one she has now. Then again, this is all wild speculation on anyone''s part.


    It is hard to notice at first, but judging by the way the light hits part of the ceiling at the end of its trajectory it''s safe to assume that the hallway is tilted down. Dirt and pebbles make a rough sound as they''re unearthed by Tulip''s steps, rolling down alongside her. The only color besides faded brown is the occasional green of the grass stubbles growing from the floor and walls. They become more prominent as time passes.


    "Come on, give me something."


    It''s been a few minutes now and Tulip starts to sound exasperated. The tunnel has been nothing but a straight line of emptiness. It''s clear from her low whines of discomfort that having to keep the camera up to use the flashlight is taking a toll on her arm. She changes it from one hand to the other a few times, until finally her patience comes to a limit and she simply lets the camera hang as she points it slightly up.


    The footage jumps. It''s supposedly two hours later, though Tulip doesn''t sound nearly as exhausted as if she had to walk for that long without stopping. At first it seems nothing has changed; the tunnel still points forward and nothing but darkness can be seen ahead. However, after almost a minute, Tulip stops.


    She swallows hard as she fumbles with the camera, raising it to chest level and pointing it forward. There is a wall of rocks a few feet ahead; probably the result of some kind of cave-in. As she steps closer two alternate paths can be seen at the left and right. Judging by the indentations in the ceiling, it seems like there used to be a third one forward as well.


    [I have no way of knowing, thanks to the footage skipping, but it is possible that the rockslide is the result of the destruction of the lighthouse outside of Wysteria. The direction of the tunnel makes it likely.]


    She shines the light at both paths, which stretch infinitely in a straight line. Tulip stands in the crossroads, breathing heavily for a few moments. Uncertainty pesters her every movement like a heavy cloud of smoke standing around her. One would think she should''ve learned how to deal with hard decisions by now.


    "Right or left¡­." she whispers. "Right or left, twain and cleft. Heaviest cuffs, blue-est flames. Iron rots and fire fades, time to choose for this young maid ."


    It''s only part of an old nursery rhyme, one that Tulip often chants to herself under her breath during stressful situations. It is unfortunate, then, that she does not possess her mother''s singing voice. Coming from her, the verses are strained and only half-sung. The recording shakes slightly.


    "¡­you''re no fun, mister tunnel," she sighs. "Fine, let''s go freaking left I guess."


    [I want to physically enter the video and punch myself in the face.


    No, I didn''t notice anything strange. That''s it.]


    The results of her choice start to bloom a lot earlier than she probably expected. While the hallway is as dark as the one before, Tulip encounters a few odd things thrown in the floor here and there.


    First it''s a torn piece of cloth, no bigger than the palm of her hand. She bends down to pick it up and films it, while rubbing the dirt off with her thumb. One side of it is white, while the other one is a soft, almost faded green. Other than that it would be difficult to determine what it belonged to. Tulip saves it in the pocket of her shorts before continuing forward.


    She finds a few more things thrown around. Part of a paper handkerchief, a piece of thin, red metal the size of her thumb, half a shoelace and what at first appears to be some kind of Pokemon bone, later identified as the rotten core of an apple. None of these she decides to take with her, only allowing the objects a glance with the camera before walking past them.


    The walls start to change. They widen up with every step Tulip takes, allowing for some breathing room that wasn''t there before. All stubbles or roots disappear along with the small piles of dirt occasionally found at the sides. In some places the rock almost seems polished.


    Tulip stops for about five seconds. She holds her breath, then continues as if nothing had happened. This repeats a few times before she stops for good and stands still for almost a minute.


    "¡­Wind?"


    Indeed, the camera picks up the distant sound of a gust of wind. Extremely faint, but it''s there.


    Tulip''s pace quickens, her steps sounding rather hopeful against the hard surface of the floor. The light of the camera swivels from side to side and though she runs across a few more objects she doesn''t pay much attention to them.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    [I do, since I have to do everything around here it seems.


    They are, in order: a round tuft of felt with cotton inside, a jagged piece of metal not much thicker than a needle, more rotten cores of fruits and a dark, reddish mark on the floor with a few similar dots coming out of it.


    At first I thought it was a blood splatter, though now I''m not sure. The red is a bit too bright.]


    The sound of the wind becomes more noticeable as Tulip keeps walking. The walls have stopped expanding and are now wide enough to accommodate at least five people. She tries to keep the camera steady as she goes, though either because of carelessness or excitement it continues to shake in a way that makes it impossible to discern what''s ahead.


    A gasp is heard behind Tulip, so faint and thin she doesn''t notice it.


    [I''ve re-winded and listened to it at least fifty times.


    It''s definitely not the wind, nor does it come from me. It''s slightly higher pitched, probably belonging to a woman. It''s there for about a second before it disappears.]


    Tulip reaches what appears to be the end of the path. Growing from one end of the wall to the other is a thick sheet of steel with a hole the size of a person torn apart in the middle. The metal is bent outwards, jagged tips almost looking like teeth. In the floor in front of it lays what probably used to be the door, made of the same material.


    Tulip extends her hand forward, placing her thumb against the jagged edges of the hole. They are terribly rusted, much more than the rest of the wall, and stuck to one of them is another piece of white and green fabric. It waves slightly with the wind. She picks it up and stares at it.


    She coughs twice. Then, breathing in deep, she walks towards the left wall and presses her palm strongly against it, as if leaning into it. Her fingers curl and uncurl, coating themselves with dust and dirt. The touch must feel reassuring, calming almost. Her breathing slowly goes back to normal. She saves the piece of fabric in her pocket once more, cleans her hand on her shirt and points the camera forward.


    "All right, c-come on," she whispers harshly. "You know where the exit is. Just go¨C just keep going."


    Judging from the movements of the camera she must crouch to enter. It''s slow going and she probably rubs a limb against one of the sharp edges, judging by the volley of swear words she lets out at a certain point. When she comes out the other side, it takes her a few seconds to gather her wits and raise the camera.


    She''s not in a cave anymore and, strangest of all, there is a source of light.


    It is a fully built room, about twice as wide as the cavern. The floor and walls are covered in square, used to be white tiles similar to those used in old communal bathrooms. The roof appears to be concrete. There is a caged light bulb stuck to the left wall, failing to illuminate much past a few feet around.


    "What the hell¡­"


    Tulip simply swings the camera around, not wanting to move yet. In front of her the hallway continues towards another, almost identical metal wall with its door similarly torn apart, leading towards a dark corridor. At her right is the rest of the room, every inch of it covered in dirt, filth and grime.


    At the right side of the furthermost wall there''s what appears to be a row of showers, separated by squares of concrete that fail to reach the ceiling. The piping and shower-heads have been eaten away at, a few even decorating the floor. There are two sinks on the right wall, one of them broken into small, ceramic pieces. A puddle of water lays underneath.


    Tulip hesitates for a moment, moving the camera to point at the filthy tiles of the wall next to her. She stares, then lets out a laugh.


    "Not touching this one."


    The camera swerves right as she walks to the other side of the room. Every step makes a sticky, sloshing sound as if the floor were wet.


    There isn''t much more to the room, it seems, until she points the camera at the only corner she hasn''t looked at yet. A paper sign is stuck to a spot close to one of the sinks, its edges eaten away by some reddish-brown substance. The lower half of it is missing, though it seems possible to read the rest.


    Tulip stops in front of it and films the sign for almost an entire minute, slowly whispering to herself. It reads as such:


    Welcome to the F-Branch of the Underground Living Quarters.


    If you are coming in, simply walk through the hallway and approach the first agent you see. They will be able to take you to your new rooms and answer any question you might have. If you wish to clean yourself from the long trip through the hills then feel free to use one of the chemical showers as long as they''re not currently in use.


    If you are leaving the quarters, carefully follow these instructions:


    1) For physical de-contamination: use one of the chemical showers and wash yourself thoroughly from tip to toe. If there is any red substance on you; please contact an agent immediately and try not to touch anything. If not, dry yourself off with the provided towels and change into the new clothes that will be given to you.


    2) For mental de-contamination: you don''t need to do anything, simply let Subject #282 cleanse you out of your inner impurities. There is no need to search for her; she will find you no matter where you are. However, under no circumstance should you attempt to leave while t¨C


    That''s where the text cuts off. Tulip is, understandably, not happy about it.


    "Oh give me a break."


    She sighs and turns the camera around, panning the entire room in its sweep. She stands still for almost a minute, breathing in and out as her free hand noticeably fidgets with the fabric of her blouse. She probably doesn''t notice how obvious she outwardly shows her fear.


    "Living quarters. Living quarters¡­" she whispers, gulping. "Well, the bathroom''s already better than the one in the hotel, so¡­"


    Her laugh feels weak against the overwhelming emptiness of everything around her. She fidgets more, takes one look back at the dirty sign and decides to continue further. The distant sound of rushing water and wind are heard as she makes her way towards the hole in the other metal wall; this one bigger and seemingly more violently ripped out. The cuts on the wall are surprisingly clean-made, if brutal.


    When she emerges on the other side, it''s not to a cave. The floor, walls and ceiling form a perfect rectangle of concrete. Professionally built, from the looks of it.


    She takes one step forward, freezes, then gasps and turns around fast enough for the footage to turn into a blur.


    "W-who is there!?"


    Through the hole part of the previous room can be seen. Nothing answers her question. Tulip sounds as if she''s struggling to breathe.


    [I''ve listened a few times and I can''t make out any sound that would''ve made me react that way.]


    It takes her almost a minute to calm down. She must come to the conclusion that she''s imagined whatever she heard, because she lowers the camera for a moment, moves it to her left hand, and turns around.


    There''s someone in the hallway. The footage freezes, then repeats itself a few times from the moment she turns the camera until it lands on¡­ it. This goes on for about four seconds.


    Then it resumes with the timer five seconds re-winded. Tulip turns around as she did before, except this time the hallway is empty. She heads forward as if nothing had happened.


    [The light of the camera only hits up to the waist of whatever that was. At first I thought it looked like the hooded stranger on the picture documented in #Entry 4, but this looks more like some kind of creature or Pokemon, judging by the thin, white legs and delicate frame.]


    Darkness pools at the edges of the camera as the contents of the hallway are revealed. A row of fluorescent light bulbs hang from the ceiling, none of them in working conditions. After almost a minute of walking she finds two normal, wooden doors, facing each other. They are locked.


    Tulip points the light at the keyhole, which means the camera itself is left filming nothing. She struggles to line herself up to see through it, judging by the grunts and curses she lets out, and ultimately seems to come up with nothing.


    "All right, let''s see here¡­"


    She holds the camera between her arm and ribs while her hands fumble with what sounds like her hair. As she moves back into place a white hairpin can be seen on her left hand. This time she puts it between her elbows, light pointing at the keyhole. A few seconds pass in silence.


    Except they don''t, because it''s the footage freezing again. It stays as such for twenty-three seconds, then resumes playing.


    Tulip lets out a sound like a choking Victreebel. The camera moves upwards, followed by a heavy thump as her head connects with a solid object ¨Cpossibly the doorknob¨C and she falls backwards. The footage turns black as Tulip is heard gasping for air and trying to get to her feet.


    "Who are you!?"


    Silence. Everything is black.


    "What did you say!?"


    Tulip struggles to breathe in between coughs, and after a few moments bends down to pick up the camera. It''s an incomprehensible blur of light and colors until she manages to keep it steady, pointing forward.


    It''s hard to see, but there is someone at the end of the cone of light. Only its feet can be seen, as white and thin as the figure that previously appeared on the footage. It makes no movement. The camera shakes violently.


    "I d-don''t understand¡­" Tulip says, barely above a whisper. "What are you saying?"


    From her frightened tone and the near sound of shuffling, it''s easy to come to the conclusion that Tulip is buying time while looking for something on her pockets. Finally she finds it and lowers her free hand. The sound of steel sliding against steel is heard; her pocket knife.


    "Stop talking! I don''t understand you!"


    She stabs the air with the knife as she yells, voice broken and high pitched. She takes a few steps back, tentatively.


    [I can''t hear anything besides myself yelling. Whatever this Tulip is hearing, it''s not in the video.]


    The figure approaches slowly. It wouldn''t be right to say that it walks, as its stick-like feet never touch the ground and nor does its clothing. Its entire body comes into view. Tulip lets out a choked sob.


    The creature is humanoid-looking, skin as white as marble and its lower half almost entirely covered by what appears to be a flowing gown. Its legs and arms are as thin as sticks. Its green, disheveled and dirty hair curls down the middle of its face and down at the sides of its head, showing only its dark red eyes. They''re at least twice as big as those of a human, with heavy shadows adorning their underside. There''s a red, jagged protrusion coming out of its chest, making it look as if the creature has been stabbed in the heart.


    It continues to float towards Tulip, slowly enough that it becomes apparent that the creature isn''t quite right. What appears to be the fold of its gown is torn apart in various places, the tips of its feet are filthy with some kind of red substance and its ribs can be seen through the little flesh it has on its chest.


    "S-stop¡­" Tulip pleads, low enough that the microphone of the camera barely picks it up. "I don''t¡­ I don''t want to hear you. Please¡­"


    She lets the knife drop to the ground and frantically starts looking for something else in her pocket. When she looks up again a round object can be seen on her left hand, its top half painted a bright red.


    "Go away! I''m gonna¡­"


    The creature raises its arm slowly, as if doing so took an incredible amount of effort. It points at Tulip with one of its thin, boney fingers and then opens all three, showing her its palm. The gesture almost seems desperate and pleading.


    "STOP SINGING!"


    The audio heavily distorts as Tulip screams at the top of her lungs. A moment after we see her hand flying forward as she throws the Pokeball at the creature. It hits it square in the chest, turning it into light and trapping it inside.


    Tulip doesn''t wait to check if the creature is caught. She turns around and runs in the opposite direction, the pitter-patter of her feet against the ground almost covering the sound of her heavy breathing and coughing. The footage shakes uncontrollably and it''s almost impossible to make out the Pokeball breaking behind her. Another gust of wind hits her back.


    The sound of cloth sliding against concrete crawls closer. It''s delicate, almost like a whisper.


    The light briefly catches the torn metal hole in the distance, leading towards the de-contamination area. Tulip quickens her pace, almost panting now, but stops a few feet from reaching it.


    A pale, pink light explodes in front of her, blinding the camera from a moment. The creature now blocks the entrance, eyes still empty and arms resting at its side. It tilts its head to the side. Curious. Playful. Begging.


    Tulip bellows ¨Cwhether in anger or horror is unclear¨C, distorting the audio to a garbled mess. The footage jumps for a moment and next she is seen in front of the creature, both arms violently pushing it to the side. It crashes against the wall, possibly breaking a bone judging by the crack following the impact, along with the low yelp of pain. Tulip doesn''t wait to jump inside the room.


    Her feet slide on the wet floor. She barely catches herself with her free hand against a wall, taking a single moment to breathe and compose herself. The sound of wind and cloth against stone comes back, this time more aggressive. There is an implicit warning in its humming tone, one that Tulip disregards completely.


    She has to go slowly, but she manages to reach the opposite side of the room without falling again. The sounds of the creature disappear as she stands in front of the makeshift hole. It waits for her to act, to make the right choice.


    She does not, unfortunately. With desperate hurry she passes through the hole, accidentally cutting herself on one of the jagged edges with her free hand. She makes it to the other side, breathes in for a moment, and breaks into a desperate run.


    There''s a pause. Tulip stops completely, her limbs frozen. She is yanked back violently, what little can be seen of her surrounded by a pink-ish glow. Her body hits the ground with a loud thump, followed by the same happening to the camera. The footage shakes and darkens, only to come back a moment after.


    The camera lies on the floor, pointing backwards. Its light briefly hits Tulip''s face along with one of her arms and part of her torso.


    Her chin rests on the ground, hair obstructing most of her face. Her entire body is surrounded by wisps of pink light. She has one hand forward, fingers desperately trying to grip the out of reach camera. Her eyes are wide open, wet with tears.


    The sound of cloth against stone is heard once more, but this time it''s simply Tulip being dragged backwards by an invisible force. She screams at the top of her lungs, kicking and planting her fingers on the ground, to no avail. Slowly, she disappears from view. The light of the camera reaches nothing but the empty cavern.


    The sound is muted, cutting short Tulip''s distant screams. The video freezes again, then everything goes black.


    The footage resumes ten seconds later.


    The camera is placed on top of a wooden table, overlooking the inside of a busy restaurant or caf¨¦. The place is packed-full of people. The clock on the downright corner marks it as fifteen minutes after what has just happened.


    Whoever is filming lowers a cup of coffee to the ceramic plate. There''s a pause. Tulip''s voice is heard:


    "Oh shit, is this still recording?"


    She picks up the camera and points it at herself. She''s wearing different clothes from the previous footage and her expression is nothing if not relaxed. She looks as if nothing had happened.


    Her eyes fall on the red light indicating that the camera is still recording. She smiles and shakes her head slightly, raising her other hand towards the device.


    The footage stops. End of video.


    [I don''t really have anything else to say. I don''t know   what   to say.


    The clothes I''m wearing, the footage skipping, that creature and then me acting as if it had never happened¡­ I can''t make sense of any of it. I''m more scared and confused as if I''d never learned what had happened. What of the tunnel? What of the remaining nine days after that?


    I don''t think I can deal with this right now. I''m tired of all of it; I wish I could make sense of¡­ anything, or just find some answers.


    I don''t know what to do. I just don''t know.


    I''m sorry.]


    <hr>


    Tulip Glasslip here.


    It''s been a few days since my¡­ transcript of that video. I apologize for my unprofessional behavior, I know most of you aren''t interested in my wellbeing or what I think of all of this; you just want answers like me.


    Fortunately, I might have some to offer in the near future.


    I''ve received an email from Pruner. They''ve asked to meet in a nearby tea house which will be full of people so I won''t have anything to fear. They say that they know where I am and it wouldn''t make a difference if I decide to run. They say¡­ that they just want to talk.


    They sounded a lot more rational than I expected. Almost desperate, even, which I found amusing after how much they''ve been leading me by the nose.


    I doubt I have anything left to lose, so I agreed to this meeting. I''m tired of running around; whatever happens, it will happen.


    Until then, I must say goodbye.


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Entry #7: Frutescens

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    It''s been a few days since my interview with Pruner. Unfortunately I haven''t had the time to properly sit down and transcribe it due to¡­ well, let''s just say I''ve been rather busy.


    Before I get into it, a bit more background into what happened leading to the interview. I arrived at the tea house at the accorded time and sat down, waiting to be approached by someone. I was, after a couple minutes, though not exactly by a person.


    An Alakazam teleported into the seat in front of me, startling all the customers around us. I stared at him, too stunned to speak or do anything else. Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he put a hand on my shoulder and teleported both of us out of the tea house.


    I''ll spare you my rather over the top freak-out over the sudden thought that I was about to be murdered. Just know that we both appeared inside a normal looking house, if somewhat messy and dimly lit. We were in a living room, judging by the table in front of me with an empty chair, and the person sitting at the other side of it.


    Alakazam calmly walked towards her and stood at her side, taciturn. As my eyes adjusted to the weak light of the room, I could finally make out the woman''s appearance. And most importantly, I realized I knew exactly who she was.


    She leaned forward to greet me, and I found myself staring at a dead woman.


    <hr>


    [Marie Levy Corenthal could only be described as a sharp woman, in every sense of the word. She carries herself with an air of intensity and professionalism that speaks of her experience as a journalist. She wears a beautifully-tailored black suit which doesn''t look like it''s been used more than a few times before. Her black, square-shaped glasses frame the bright, green eyes of someone constantly looking for answers.


    She''s one of the most renowned journalists Kanto has ever known, with three Kinsey prizes under her belt on the categories of Public Service, Commentary and General Non-Fiction. Her qualifications are no less impressive: she''s obtained degrees on Pokemon General Studies, Anthropology and Psychology, with a doctorate on Professional Journalism.


    Many cover-ups and conspiracies have been brought to light by her, only to be stripped of any kind of embellishment and shown for what they truly are. The last project she ever tackled was that of the Wysteria incident, her biggest challenge so far. Unfortunately, that investigation came to a halt rather quickly.


    Five months ago her house was found deserted, with the front door open and its lock torn apart. Neither Marie nor her trusted Alakazam were found and the only thing out of the ordinary were a few splatters of blood on the floor. She''s been declared as missing and possibly dead ever since.


    She offers me a glass of water, not saying a word. Her Alakazam stands next to her, eyes set on me.


    We sit in silence for almost a minute before she speaks.]


    I''m sure you must have a lot of questions, miss Tulip. I hope you can start asking them soon.


    "S-sorry. I''m not sure where to begin; I''m not usually the one in this position during my interviews."


    [Marie forms an actual smile, a gesture that looks strangely out of place on the sharpness of her face.]


    I understand; being out of one''s element can be scary at first. Case in point; a world-renowned journalist like me being forced to go into hiding and work with what little I have to solve the biggest conspiracy Kanto has ever known. Finding a proper place to begin can be¡­ tricky.


    That was a cue for you to pick a first question, by the way. I made sure to give you plenty of options.


    [The way she says it, it almost sounds like she''s attempting to tell a joke. Unfortunately her grim expression doesn''t reflect that well.]


    "You kinda answered one of them already. I guess I''m¡­ mostly confused as to what happened, and why did you choose me to come here and meet you."


    That''s a rather jumbled way to ask a question. A journalist should always keep their head cool and tackle even the strangest of situations with poise and professionalism. I''m guessing you''re somewhat of an amateur when it comes to this?


    [There''s a noticeable pause in the conversation. I raise an eyebrow.]


    "I thought I was the one asking questions, miss Corenthal."


    Of course; and very smart of you not to reveal personal information to someone you''ve just met. At least you still have a good sense of self-preservation; an important tool for any journalist to have.


    "If that''s so, then why are you urging me to pry into your personal life?"


    See? That''s the kind of questions you should be asking.


    Fortunately, I don''t have the need to be cautious when it comes to my life anymore, for various reasons. I am safe in here, or as safe as anyone can be from them. You, on the other hand, seem to be in something of a complicated situation. Jumping from hotel to hotel, constantly on the run and with money running low¡­ I can''t see you lasting much longer out there.


    But that''s a matter for later. Now, I''m sure you''d be interested in a few answers, as stale and unrewarding as they might be.


    "I would appreciate that."


    Well, there isn''t much to say, to be honest.


    I''m sure you''re aware of the last investigation project I took before my supposed disappearance. The Wysteria incident¡­ to be honest it was something I''d always meant to take a look at, ever since I graduated for the first time. Unfortunately, I''d never found the right time for it. It all seemed so daunting a task¡­ I suppose it wasn''t until I became the most renowned journalist in Kanto that I realized no one else would do the job for me.


    As such, I began investigating with a small team of associates working under me. I took a different route than yours, mostly because I counted with the money and resources not to have to depend on telltale stories whose veracity was flimsy at best. I studied every government record, gathered every drop of solid information about the town and even went as far as to explore the abandoned place myself in search of any solid clue that might point me in the right direction.


    "Hold on. You didn''t interview any of the ex-citizens of Wysteria? Wouldn''t that be the logical place to start?"


    That''s what every other journalist would''ve done, yes. But I''m not just any journalist, am I?


    First rule of the job, miss Tulip: people lie. Accounts of previous events told by people simply from their memories¡­ well, I count them as third-grade evidence at best. Everyone has an angle or an agenda which prevents the flow of the truth throughout their stories. And falling short of that, our memories of what happened in the past aren''t always as accurate as we remember.


    I went searching for solid, unmistakable evidence. And in the meantime left my associates the job to contact these people and ask relevant questions whenever they could, though I didn''t make it a priority.


    "Judging by your current living situation, I''m guessing you''ve already come to the conclusion that you chose wrongly?"


    [She looks startled for a moment, as if my question had more edge than she was expecting.


    She lets out a low   heh   and lowers her hands to the table, fingers interlacing each other. Hex expression softens.]


    Maybe you do have it in you, after all.


    In any case, I doubt changing my approach towards the case would''ve helped much. With the resources I had, plus the people working under me, I did manage to get some answers. Not enough to paint the whole picture, but enough to show me the path towards the truth I''d been looking for.


    Unfortunately, that''s as good as it got. Soon my associates began to¡­ leave, en masse.


    "They disappeared?"


    No, that would''ve been way too obvious and it would''ve alerted the authorities. They made excuses and claimed that they couldn''t work anymore in the project for ''personal reasons''. They asked for a paid leave and refused to hear anything I had to say in the matter. Every single one of them abandoned the investigation.


    "Do you think they were threatened? Did they ever approach you for those reasons?"


    I''m sure they were and no, I was never contacted by anyone suspicious. They must''ve known how firm my convictions were and that no amount of bribing or threatening would get me to abandon the case.


    So, knowing that, they decided to take more drastic measures to ensure my silence.


    "You were attacked in your own house. I read the reports."


    They were waiting for me to come back from work. Were it not for Alakazam''s Future Sight I''m sure my remains would still be under some unmarked grave.


    [Without looking at him she raises one hand and places it on Alakazam''s shoulder. A smile briefly appears under his mustache.]


    I was able to escape, as you can tell, and I''ve been living like¡­ this, ever since.


    [She makes a gesture to encompass the whole room, a sour look on her face.


    I find it difficult to feel bad for her, considering the place looks better than any hotel I''ve ever been in, though I can understand how huge a change it must be for someone as rich as her.]


    Thanks to my dear Alakazam and some savviness on my part I''ve been able to transform this place into the perfect hideout. It is completely un-traceable from any kind of external threat and, as long as I remain here, no one will ever be able to find us.


    "Sounds¡­ awfully boring, to be honest."


    I still have cable and internet, not to mention the beautiful forest outside. But¡­ yes, it can get rather dull at times. I reckon I would''ve probably gone mad were it not for Alakazam''s company.


    Besides, I still have a job to do. I haven''t given up on my investigations about the truth behind Wysteria and its mysterious benefactors. Which, coincidentally, brings me to the topic I''d been meaning to discuss ever since you set foot on my home.


    "And that would be?"


    Your entries.


    I''ve had lots of free time to do my research, miss Tulip, and the last thing I ever expected was for someone else to start from scratch after everything that''s happened. Imagine my surprise a couple months ago when I found your first entry. The shock that an absolute nobody was able to secure an interview with one of Wysteria''s ex citizens about an event whose history has been muddy at best.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I dismissed it as a hoax at first. Anyone could sew a tale both entertaining and truthful sounding enough. However, every single detail included in that interview matched perfectly with the scattered clues I had collected over the years regarding the Harvest of ''76. Not to mention Monika''s fate mere days after you contacted her. I had to accept the fact that you were¡­ well, I hesitate to use the word genuine, but at least somewhat serious about your investigations.


    Then came Horace''s interview, and with it I became aware of just how amateur this so-called journalist was. I could begrudgingly respect your work in your first entry, but the second? It was just to pointlessly terrible I couldn''t help but feel offended.


    [She must notice my expression. Something like shame flashes across her eyes for a moment before she clears her throat.]


    Not that I mean to imply anything negative about you yourself, Tulip. It''s just¡­


    "What was so amateur about my second entry?"


    [I try to keep my tone neutral, though it''s not hard to notice the venom bubbling underneath my voice. Marie hesitates before answering.]


    Honestly¡­ where do I start?


    How about beginning the entry with details about your personal life? I don''t care what kind of narrative you''re trying to construct; the investigation isn''t about you. Why would you tell your readers your recent hardships when all you should do is post your findings and call it a day? Do you believe scientists begin their papers by talking about how hard the past week has been?


    "My readers deserved to know that¡­"


    After that you decide to put yet another person in danger by describing the entirety of the interview instead of just writing the relevant information down and cutting down all the fat.


    Then, after all that, I still can''t understand why you''d decide to interview this person at all. It''s not like the situation with Monika where she was the only one present during those events. The church chorus incident has been well researched and there are tons of papers and transcripts which describe in detail everything that happened. Absolutely no new information was gained by getting the story from that poor man instead of doing research on your own.


    From all this I was able to gather the truth behind your little writing project. What you were after wasn''t the truth, but a story. You wished to tell a tale befitting of the horrors of Wysteria and those pulling the strings of the city, turning the truth into a pill easy enough to swallow for most people. After all; government transcripts, long documents, police reports, all those can be quite dull to read. But a story? Now that''s a surefire way to get an audience quickly.


    The signs were all there. Why else would you present your investigation in such an obviously theatrical manner? Naming each entry after a different kind of wisteria flower, using fancy and mysterious language, creating a fake name for yourself such as Tulip Glasslip¡­ it was so transparently obvious.


    You weren''t a journalist. You were an entertainer who just happened to weave a bit more truth into her tales than most.


    "If you''re trying to imply that I''m doing this for my own benefit¡­"


    I didn''t say that. Who knows; maybe there is a noble cause behind your methods. Maybe you do care about the truth and you just happen to have a heart for theatrics on top of that. It doesn''t matter, it''s not relevant to my point.


    My point is that your methods are both unprofessional and disrespectful towards those who had to suffer the horrors of Wysteria. You''re making light of events that took the lives and sanity of many, and that I find unacceptable.


    [I''m unable to respond for some time, not knowing how to. Silence spreads through the room, making it appear emptier than it is.]


    "I just wanted to tell the stories behind the truth. I wanted to give a voice to those who suffered because of¡­ them. An opportunity to get that awful truth out of their chests and¡­ I don''t know. Feel like they did something about it, even if it was just¡­ talking to me. After I lost¡­"


    [I stop myself, knowing that I''m about to say far more than it is prudent. A few more seconds pass in silence, until Marie speaks once more.


    Her voice lacks the anger it previously held.]


    I believe that your intentions aren''t wicked, and I apologize if I went a little too far just now. It''s just that journalism and the search for the truth is a topic I''m extremely passionate about. A topic that, perhaps, tends to let out the worst of me when I see someone not uphold the same ideals I have.


    After I read that second entry of yours¡­ I''m not proud to admit that I acted rather childish and gave in to my own pettiness. I created the account of Pruner and wrote a few mysterious messages in your website, using a program to make it look as if they''d been written from the same places you were staying in. As cautious as you may be, Tulip, you aren''t that hard to find for someone who knows what they''re doing.


    [A smile manages to find its way to my lips.]


    "Those messages were painful to sit through. You really need to work on your poetry."


    [She smiles as well, even going so far as to letting out a short laugh.]


    That''s never been my strong suit, though I did the best I could with the material I had. I took inspiration from many¡­ let''s say frauds like the ones I believed you were emulating, and left intentionally cryptic and nonsensical messages for you to scratch your head over. I was pleasantly surprised to read that you didn''t waste your time with them, when doing so might''ve helped you grow your audience. That was my first clue that you might not be as much of a fraud as I thought.


    "¡­Thank you? Uh, don''t get me wrong, I''m enjoying this talk, but if your whole reason to invite me over was to lecture me on journalism ethics¡­"


    As hilarious as that would be, I''m not finished yet.


    When you uploaded your third entry, I decided to take a look at it more out of boredom and wounded pride than anything else. I couldn''t have been more shocked as I read the beginning of the interview.


    Kate¡­ that insufferable little brat. I could not believe my eyes; someone had really gotten her to talk?


    "I''m assuming you two know each other?"


    In a way. Much like Monika, she was a sole survivor of one of the many tragedies that took place near the town. If I wanted to learn the truth, or the closest thing to it, I knew I''d have to schedule an interview with her. It¡­ didn''t go well.


    At first she refused to even talk to my colleagues. Something about being sick of questions and inquisitive people. Then, after I leveraged in a rather generous amount of money in exchange for her time, she agreed. However she set forth the condition that she''d only talk to the one in charge of the investigation. I''ve never the greatest of interviewers, but I didn''t seem to have many other options, so I accepted.


    I don''t think it''d be exaggeration to call it a disaster. From the moment I set foot on her home it became clear our personalities didn''t mash well at all. She was rather defensive towards every question I asked and interruption I made, and I might''ve been just a bit too tactless when it came to approaching her story.


    In the end she told me to go fuck myself, threw the money in my face and yelled at me to get out of her house. I haven''t tried to contact her since; I simply gave up on that particular story.


    [It takes a monumental effort not to start laughing. Still, I believe she notices the way my lips curl upwards slightly.]


    "So¡­ you''re saying that you missed out on possible evidence because of your bad attitude and lack of empathy? And that I, an amateur journalist as you just called me, managed to secure and document it because I treated my interviewees like human beings with emotions and struggles of their own? Is that what I''m hearing?"


    Don''t stroke your ego that much; you might end up blind. Being able to empathize and deal with teenagers is a talent, but nothing to be proud of.


    Still, I couldn''t help but be impressed. On top of getting what I assume is the whole story, this one just happened to have new details about a certain part of Wysteria I''ve pooled much of my investigation towards.


    "You mean the tunnels."


    Tunnel, singular, but yes. It''s one of the first things I ever discovered that no one else had, and to this day it remains one of the biggest mysteries concerning the town. To think you''d stumble into information about one of its entrances on accident¡­ well, you can understand how that would''ve made me slightly bitter.


    I didn''t believe you would actually go through with your trek to those hills, especially after learning how dangerous they were. Still believing you to be a hack, I decided to have some fun and wrote a few more spooky comments for when you got back. Thing is¡­ you didn''t, not for a while at least.


    You won''t hate me for admitting I didn''t believe your story at first, will you? Localized amnesia¡­ sure, there are certain Pokemon capable of such a thing, but I simply thought it a lie you constructed so you wouldn''t have to put yourself in danger. Until I read your transcript of the diary, that is.


    [I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. This is getting rather old.]


    "Not to derail the interview, but is this just going to be a transcript of your reactions to my work and how you went back and forth from hating me to loving me to hating me again like the tsundere you clearly are?"


    [Again she reels back, seemingly shocked by my nerve. I smile; she''s the one who asked for it.]


    What''s¡­ a tsundere?


    [The smile drops.]


    "¡­Never mind. You were saying?"


    Right¡­ I apologize if I''ve been rather longwinded with my explanation. I simply wanted to express my views on your style of journalism and how I went from thinking you were a fraud to¡­ reluctantly respecting you, I suppose. Especially concerning your last entry; would it be stepping out of line to ask if I could take a look at that video sometime? I''m not very good at realizing when my questions or requests are insensitive, you see.


    "It''s fine. I have the file in my computer; you can take a look at it later. I just want to know the reason why you called me here."


    Of course. As I was saying; with every entry I became more aware of something that piqued my interest regarding your talents. You were, to put it lightly, determined to the point of short-sightedness. Normally this would be a fatal flaw for someone on our line of work, but still you continued to get answers and results despite your apparent lack of experience.


    It became clear that, as much of an amateur as you might be, you were also potentially useful to me.


    "¡­Useful?"


    It''s the real reason I arranged this meeting. There''s one question I''d like to ask you, before you consider standing up from that chair and leaving.


    Tulip, would you like to work with me?


    [A few seconds pass in silence. It becomes rather hard to find my own voice for a while.]


    "You want me to¡­ work for you? As a journalist?"


    With me, not for me. After my recent failures and your growing list of successes¡­ I doubt I''m in the position to look down at you.


    But yes, I would like us to become partners. I could use someone with your charisma and apparent disregard for their own safety when in pursuit of the truth. I''ve¡­ become rather ill recently, my lungs don''t work as well as they once did and I''m in no state to roam the region looking for answers. With you at my side, I might be able to gather information previously unavailable for me.


    "You''d accept to be partners just to send me towards danger like some kind of errand girl?"


    I''d have you do the things you were already planning on doing. The key difference is that you''d be getting paid for it.


    "Just being here with you is already putting both of us in danger. To keep in contact with you¡­ I don''t think any amount of money is worth that much risk to myself."


    By pay I didn''t mean just money, you know. You''d be more than welcome to call this place your home; I have way too many empty rooms anyway. You''d be safe and guarded whenever you''re not out there looking for the truth. I could also teach you the things I discovered; all that precious information about them you''ve been looking for. All of that would be yours if you simply accept.


    We might be able to find the truth if we work together, Tulip. Don''t you think that''s worth it?


    [I tap my pencil against my notebook erratically, a strange heat rising from my chest.]


    "¡­Why me, though? Even if we''re investigating the same thing, why couldn''t you hire someone else, someone who didn''t know about Wysteria and have them do your dirty work? It''d be a lot safer for both of us. You do know I''m uploading this interview as soon as we''re done, right? How will the world react to knowing that you''re still alive? How will¡­ they, react?"


    [A satisfied smile stretches across Marie''s lips.]


    Tell me, how many readers do you have?


    "¡­What?"


    Your audience. In average how many people would you say read every entry you post?


    "Around forty, I guess? And at least a few usual commenters."


    There you have it. Do you really think anyone outside your audience will believe what you''re writing? That maybe the local news anchors will pay attention to an apparent conspiracy nutjob''s blog and believe her word that she knows where the famous Marie Corenthal is hiding?


    The only ones who will buy this story are your readers and¡­ well, them. But then again they are already aware of us, aren''t they? Posting this little interview won''t make much difference in the grand scheme of things.


    And to answer your remaining question, about your employment¡­ I wouldn''t be comfortable hiring anyone who is not ready to die for the truth, like I am. You''re the only person I know who qualifies, so I will ask you this one more time.


    Do you want to work with me?


    [This time I don''t need to think about it for long.]


    "Fine, but with one condition."


    [She raises an eyebrow, amused, and smiles as she lets her cheek rest on her palm. The gesture looks out of place coming from her.]


    Do tell.


    "I won''t change the format of my investigation, nor the way I write my entries. I understand your point of view, but I disagree in that I''m being disrespectful towards those I interview. They deserve their voices to be heard, not just their stories."


    Well, if that''s what it takes. In exchange for accepting that though, I''d like to ask you two questions.


    "What is it?"


    First; what is your history with Wysteria? I know someone determined when I see them, but I don''t think what compels you to seek the truth is the truth itself, like with me.


    [I freeze for a moment, feeling as if the room has grown colder.]


    "They took something from me. That''s all I can say; sorry."


    [She nods absentmindedly, as if she was already expecting that kind of answer.]


    My second question is¡­ what should I call you? You don''t need to use that ridiculous pen name anymore; you''ll be safe here from now on. It won''t matter if people know who you are.


    "I¡­ think I''d rather stick with Tulip. I''ve grown to like it, and it''s not like I have a use for my old name anymore."


    Well¡­ if you insist.


    [She pushes herself of the table and extends an arm towards me, expecting me to shake her hand.


    I can''t help but smile. Letting my pen and notebook rest on top of the table I stand up and shake her hand. It''s firm and callused, just as I expected from someone like her.]


    Welcome to the team, miss Tulip. It''s a pleasure.


    "The pleasure is mine, miss Corenthal."


    <hr>


    I''ve been living in Marie''s home for a few days now.


    It''s been¡­ nice, so to speak, though not as relaxing as I expected. For a woman her age she has way more energy than I would''ve guessed, and as such we usually stay until late hours of the night exchanging the information we''ve been able to gather and discussing theories and what to do next. I''ve barely gotten a wink of sleep lately.


    Still, it''s nice to feel like I''m making progress again. Marie might be able to open doors previously locked for me. The truth feels closer than ever, or so I think.


    I might go silent for a while. We need to be careful and plan the next steps of our investigation. Until then, I must say goodbye.


    I''ll come back with a new entry whenever I can. Thank you all for sticking with me.


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Fragment #1: A Rose by Any Other Name

    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    Greetings, my dear readers.


    My name is Tulip Glasslip. Writer of the Wysteria Files: a collection of interviews and statements regarding the mysteries surrounding the city of Wysteria and its townsfolk''s mysterious mass disappearance many years ago.


    Some of you may already be familiar with my work.


    Some of you may wonder why I haven''t uploaded any new entries for the past¡­ well, at this very moment, two years exactly.


    Rest assured, readers. That is a question I intend to find the answer to


    I remember nothing from the past two years. Zero. From my perspective, it is as though I''d gone to sleep that night I met Marie Levy Corenthal, only to wake up here, two years later, inside of a dingy hotel room with its door locked, the fresh corpse of Marie''s Alakazam sharing the place with me. There are no obvious injuries in his body. However, judging by his lack of pulse, he can be nothing but dead.


    That was this morning. I am no longer there, of course. As much as I value sharing my findings with all of you, I felt like such an environment was not¡­ ideal for practicing journalism.


    I won''t lie and say I wasn''t¡­ shaken. Distraught. Broken, even. Had things been slightly different, I may not be posting this. Were it not for the [REDACTED] on my hands, which I discovered only after taking my gloves off, I might have let myself collapse in that room, breaking down until whoever is responsible for this came for me to finish the job.


    But the [REDACTED]¡­ it changes things. Oh, does it change them.


    I am furious. Two years¡­ Can you imagine losing that? Every one of those days, every sensation, every memory¡­ All gone by the will of some bastard who thought you''d seen enough. Why not just kill me and be done with it? Why kill Marie''s Alakazam and not me?


    Why do they enjoy toying with their prey so?


    Well¡­ I intend to find out. Spite might not make for a great meal, but in lieu of anything else it can sustain you through even the worst of situations.


    I will find out what happened, and I will make whoever is responsible pay. Those [REDACTED] bastards will wish they''d kill me.


    ¡­


    In any case. I escaped that hotel room by breaking the window, and taking with me everything I could carry. Unfortunatey, that did not include Alakazam. I couldn''t take him with me nor bury him considering the direness of my circumstances. I hope he will forgive me. At the very least I know that Marie would agree with my decision, practical as she was.


    It''s funny. Considering how deep the shit I''m in is, my most immediate worries are hunger, thirst, and that the hotel staff will see the dead Alakazam and call the police on me. I certainly hope past-me didn''t pay with credit card.


    Not that I have such a thing on me, mind you.


    The only objects I took with me from the hotel are a backpack filled with everything I found in the mini-fridge, my laptop, empty of all files, soap, a towel and a pillow and finally¡­ a few hidden gems.


    It seems whoever was responsible for leaving me there didn''t know about the hidden pockets on the sides of the inside of my shoes.


    One of them contained five hundred dollars. I don''t need to tell you how relaxed the sigh I let out was when I saw them.


    The other one is an old, small notepad. The very same notepad, in fact, that I used to record all of the previous entries in. It was almost full by the time I met Marie.


    And it is full now.


    There are two additional entries. The first one is complete, and it takes place the day after Marie hired me. The second one¡­ We''ll get there when we get there. It''s incomplete, unfortunately.


    In any case, I''ll leave the contents of the first of these two entries below. And while that processes, I''ll see if I can find¡­ Well, anything. What city this is, for once. Then we''ll go from there.


    Enjoy:


    <hr>


    [I found it difficult to sleep last night.


    Expected, I know. After all that happened yesterday, I''m surprised I even managed to get a few hours in. Still.


    Marie Levy Corenthal sits across me, sipping her morning tea and enjoying a slice of toast with jam. I''m partial to peanut butter myself.]


    I suppose we should start with a summary of what I know. To catch you up to speed, at least.


    [She looks up at me in that way that betrays she''s been waiting for me to ask her questions but didn''t want to admit it. I try to stifle a smile]


    "I did say I wanted you to tell me everything, so¡­"


    That is a much taller order than you could even imagine, Tulip. But I will do my best.


    Like I said, during the remainder of this breakfast, I will tell you the broad strokes of what I know about¡­ them. As a base. Then we may dig into the contents of my research, which will hopefully catch you up to speed so that you may resume your investigation soon.


    "Understood. You have the floor, Marie."


    Thank you, Miss Tulip.


    [Marie clears her throat, then begins.]


    In truth, the disappearance of the entirety of Wysteria''s population in a single night is the result of many factors, as well as many people. A heartless diva with a sharp-knife smile. A trainer prodigy with a family pedigree so immaculate it''s almost suspicious. A dark child, born under a blue, heatless flame. A tall, quiet scarecrow of a man, holding in his hands more knowledge than any mortal should conceivably be able to.


    But¡­ yes, in the end, all these people, all these strange, mismatched characters did join together under singular banner. A familiar image for you, I''m sure. Two wisteria vines sprouting from the same source, forming a circle.


    [I know it would be impossible to hide my reaction, so I don''t try to. The pen creaks in my hands as I apply force to it, my muscles so tense it feels like they''ll snap at any moment.


    Marie looks amused. If she reads this later, once I upload it, I hope she knows how much she''s pissing me off right now.]


    You sure are writing a lot more than what I said.


    "It''s called color commentary. Or something of the sorts."


    Of course.


    " From what you''re saying, should I assume you met some of the members of that organization?"


    Well, first off, organization is not quite the word I''d use to describe them as a whole.


    "Then which would you use? Cult? Religion?"


    Institute.


    [The surprise in my face must be apparent, because Marie chuckles.]


    Yes, indeed. Doesn''t the word invoke the image of knowledge seeking and investigation? Academia, perhaps? That which could be considered the sibling of journalism. Two similar yet different arts, born from the same source.


    That is how you should think of them from now own. Scholars. Investigators. Those who watch from above with a judging, merciless eye. Seeking knowledge for knowledge''s sake. Or at least¡­ that''s what it seems. Though I am unfortunately blind to their true motives, the manner in which they act is certainly lacking in the professionalism that a good work ethic can give you.


    Tell me¡­ Have you ever heard of the Sunken Library?


    You don''t need to answer that. I am quite sure that the term has not left the lips of anyone outside their group until this very moment. That, I believe, is a place of most importance to them. One might call it their base of operations¡­ But it''s more of a meeting ground. A place to keep their knowledge and relics. Or so I''ve surmised from what little I''ve been able to discover.


    "Is it just a fancy name? I don''t see how a library could be literally sunken without defeating its purpose."


    That''s what I assumed at first. However, after looking into the subject, trying to find anything on similar structures, I came across a very interesting¡­ Well, you could call it a folk tale or urban legend, but I believe it''s slightly more than that.


    I''ll ask again, but differently. Have you ever heard of the Abyssal Ruins?


    "I¡­ The term sounds familiar, but I can''t recall. What is it?"


    According to Unovan lore, many miles east of Undella bay, deep beneath the sea, rests a massive structure made entirely out of chargestone. Supposedly it is square in shape and as big as a football stadium¡­ from the outside, that is. Whoever is foolish enough to venture into its insides will find themselves lost in an endless, logic-defying maze from which the only way to escape is to find one of the ancient relics within, and use it to guide your way out.


    Of course, since the entire place is so deep underwater, even the best scuba equipment won''t last long down there, so it seems like a trip to the Abyssal Ruins is sure to result in death¡­ or so they say.


    In truth, such place is commonly known as a myth. Like Mirage Island or the Sky Pillar or the Hall of Origin. Stories to tell to children in order to make them believe that the world truly is a strange, unexplored place. A kind lie, so to speak.


    "And yet¡­"


    And yet.


    I can''t say I''ve ever been to the ruins, or the Sunken Library as they call it, but¡­ rumor has it that on certain nights, when the moon is full, its light will penetrate deep into the sea, reaching the chargestone from which the place was constructed. It will shine a bright, powerful blue, visible even from above the surface.


    That, they say, is the only way to find it. And if that is true¡­ Then I can certainly vouch for its existence.


    "So you saw that glow, but you didn''t enter the place?"


    It''s¡­ more complicated than that.


    Unfortunately, at the time, the only way I could''ve gone down there was either as a traitor, or as a corpse.


    "What do you mean?"


    [Marie looks at me and raises an eyebrow, seemingly disappointed that I haven''t caught on yet]


    How do you think I know so much about the institute? About its members? How could I have gotten as far as to make the connection between the Abyssal Ruins and the Sunken Library?


    They tried to recruit me, of course.


    [Marie seems to expect a loud reaction from me, but I simply freeze and stare at her with wide, panicked eyes. For a moment I consider running. Where, I don''t know. It''s clear she''s not part of them, but in the suddenness of her statement, that fact is lost on me until she opens her mouth again to speak]


    I didn''t take them on their offer, of course.


    "¡­ God dammit, I almost had a heart attack. You really remind me of Monika. Only¡­ you know, a lot worse at what she did."


    I''ll keep it in mind.


    "Hold on. Just yesterday you said, and I quote, I was not approached by anyone suspicious. So what''s this about?"


    That is correct. The man who approached me was not suspicious to me at the time, seeing as he was one of my partners in the investigation. The only one who hadn''t quit yet.


    Alberich, he was called. An odd name, made even odder by the fact that it was the only one he ever gave to anyone. He insisted that we call him that, and nothing else. Had he been my employee I could have forced him to tell me his full name, but seeing as he was one of the most prestigious journalists ever to grace the world¡­ It was clear his pedigree exceeded mine, even if only slightly. I could make no demands of him, I''m afraid.


    He was a tall, spindly man with eyes grey like steel and long, thin fingers which looked more like Ariados legs than any human appendage. And yet, he was quite handsome, in a way. He certainly knew how to dress himself. Always wearing three-piece suits of various dark shades which helped counteract the paleness of his face. His long, silver hair tied in a ponytail and the half-moon spectacles he wore did wonders to turn the wrinkles and bags under his eyes from unkempt to something more scholarly-looking.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    He was quite young too, despite his looks. More than you would''ve expected looking at him, though at this point I can''t quite be sure that the information in his birth certificate is even accurate. He could be thirty or sixty for all I knew. All his contributions to the field of journalism were highly classified pieces meant only for the most powerful of people, and to be entirely honest even now I''m not entirely sure Alberich is his real name.


    In some ways, the man is more of a mystery than any of the events he orchestrated in Wysteria.


    ¡­ Why the long face, Tulip? You look as though you swallowed a spoonful of Grimer.


    "¡­ Use those deduction skills of yours and you might come across the answer."


    There''s no need to sound bitter.


    "You knew him. The one responsible for everything that happened."


    Allegedly. Sadly, the words of a man such as himself must be taken with a grain of salt.


    "Still. You didn''t think to tell the authorities or anyone else about it?"


    Well, unfortunately I didn''t quite have the chance to, considering what happened next.


    [I leverage my desire to know more against my desire to insult Marie for her carelessness. I suppose I could go halfway.]


    "What about after your supposed disappearance? Even if it would have meant revealing that you were still alive¡­"


    A risk I couldn''t take, I''m afraid. This is a very delicate operation, Miss Tulip. I hope you understand that, for the sake of reaching the truth and apprehending those responsible, we may have to hide in the shadows and overlook tempting opportunities quite often.


    Besides, even now I don''t have quite enough evidence to even begin to make a case against Alberich. He is a very careful man. The kind to cover his tracks behind him so well that not even a trained Growlithe could pick up on them.


    "¡­ Alright. What happened between you two, then? How did he reveal himself to you?"


    In the only way which ensured I wouldn''t be able to react, unfortunately.


    When he pulled me aside one day and told me, without a hint of joking or irony in his voice, that he was the man responsible for the Wysteria incidents¡­ I can''t say I''ve ever been caught off guard in such a manner. I should have been ready. I knew they would come for me eventually but this was too sudden, too shocking. Even Alakazam couldn''t do anything as Alberich grabbed me by the shoulder and -as his eyes flashed golden for but a moment- my consciousness faded.


    By the time I came to my senses, I wasn''t¡­ myself anymore. It sounds strange, I know. But it''s nothing compared to what it felt like to be weightless and incorporeal, barely a shade of a person floating above a dark, endless sea of shifting waters. Alberich stood next to me, hands behind his back. He looked like a ghost, a specter of mist being given a form by the rays of moonlight falling upon him.


    "Are you saying he took your spirit out of your body or something like that?"


    He might be able of such a feat, to be honest, but no. I believe it was a simple illusion. A trick of the mind. Perhaps he also counted with a powerful Psychic Pokemon, one hidden from view, and used its power to trap me in a mirage in which he could talk to me uninhibited by Alakazam''s presence.


    Still. Real or not, the feeling of standing above the night sea, my form incorporeal, is one I doubt I will ever forget for as long as I live.


    "Is that when he attempted to recruit you?"


    In a way.


    We hovered there for what felt like minutes, though from my perspective I''m sure it must have been only a few seconds. Alberich didn''t seem preoccupied with starting the conversation. He looked up at the moon with a longing and an intensity I couldn''t quite place, as though it were a puzzle he were having trouble resolving. By the time I spoke, he almost looked surprised that I was there with him.


    I asked him what was happening, and I made sure not to let any kind of fear of worry taint my voice. I would not give him the satisfaction. Moreover, if he wanted to kill me he could have done it already. I tried to take comfort in that. But as soon as Alberich turned toward me and looked at me with those cold grey eyes of his¡­ I became painfully aware that he knew exactly what I was thinking.


    I don''t know how to explain it. I doubt that I could, even though the written word is my trade and I''m confident I could accurately describe anything else you asked of me. But not that. Not the chill I felt at that moment. Not the terror that overtook me as those thin, dry lips of his quirked up into something that was nothing like a smile.


    His reason for bringing me there was simple, he said. He wanted to congratulate me. Spineless journalists were a dime a dozen, he said, but one who truly cared about the truth, who pursued it with such passion even in disregard of their own safety or that of others¡­that was rare indeed.


    I told him that his words were¡­ appreciated, though he could have probably found an easier way to tell me that. A plastic card, an email¡­ hell, I''d settle for a normal conversation. He laughed at that. I remember being surprised because that laugh was nothing like his previous smile. It was¡­ warm. Friendly. A sound I never expected to come from his mouth.


    He told me that he, too, enjoyed searching for the truth. Ever since he was a little kid, he enjoyed pulling things apart, piece by piece, only to put them together again with a new understanding of how they worked. Objects and machines were easy, he said. Other complex organisms, however¡­


    He left the sentence hanging, and the weight of his implication was not lost on me. I told him that I didn''t enjoy being led by the nose. I asked him plainly if he was the leader of the group responsible for the disappearance of Wysteria''s population.


    He nodded. It was such a casual gesture¡­ If I''d been corporeal at the time, it wouldn''t have been easy to contain a shiver.


    I asked him why, and his response was just as casual and immediate. Wysteria was a place of power, he said. In the hallowed land that city was built upon, ''the gifts of humans and Pokemon were simply more''. Those were his exact words. I remember because it was such an odd way to phrase it.


    He said that the town itself and all its inhabitants ¨Cand I feel like he included both human an Pokemon in there, although I have no proof¨C were like the rusted, dismantled pieces of a once working machine. Sometimes, in an effort to better understand how all the pieces came together, you wrongly connected a cable to an output and there was a painful shock, he told me. Such mistakes were unavoidable.


    Again, his implication was clear. Now less in shock, I felt a familiar spark of rage burst within me at his words. I told him that none of what he was saying was making me feel sympathetic toward him or his cause. He wasn''t the first deluded genius with airs of grandeur I''d met, though he was probably the most powerful one. Sacrifices for the greater good must''ve been easy, I said, when you weren''t the one making them.


    He didn''t seem angry or offended. Again, he just nodded. He said that I wasn''t aware of the sacrifices he''d made, but that he couldn''t hold it against me if I disliked him regardless. He didn''t need me to like him.


    He just needed me willing to work with him.


    I admit, I had suspected this was the reason for such a strange meeting, but hearing it from his mouth left me momentarily speechless. Thoughts and memories began buzzing in my mind. Slowly, piece by piece, realization dawned on me.


    His admission into the investigation, the fact that the League had so readily given us a generous budget where they''d been so stingy before, the fact that all other investigators but me had quit under the pressure¡­


    Once again, Alberich seemed to read my mind, and nodded. He''d been waiting for someone to re-open the investigation, he told me, and once we did, he saw fit to test our resolve. Needless to say, I was the only one who met his standards.


    I asked him¡­ why me? Was he in need of someone with a lot of authority in the field of public journalism? The thought immediately set me ablaze with fury. If he thought for a single second that I would help cover up¡­


    But he interrupted me. Again one of those laughs. He shook his head and told me that he had no need for anything to be covered up. All he needed were my talents, and my determination to find the truth. Should I wish to, he said, I could keep working as usual, even going so far as to spy on him and continue my investigation into the mysteries of Wysteria. As long as I cooperated with him, he didn''t mind.


    As for the why¡­ he sighed at this point, I remember it clearly. For a second, a flash of something almost like sadness crossed the unchanging grey of his eyes.


    He told me¡­ One of the eight has been lost. I asked what he meant and he replied that the wisteria always possessed one and eight, never more, never less. I took this to mean that one of the members of his organization¨C


    Institute, he corrected me.


    ¡­That one of the members of his institute had either died or left the group for other reasons. He nodded. It was number eight. In fact, I remember him using a very specific title. He said that the woman who''d left was a¨C


    "Stigma. She was Stigma number 8, right?"


    [Marie reels back for a moment, surprised by my sudden interruption. The air grows tense and silent.]


    ¡­Yes. How do you know that?


    [The urge to scratch the sudden itch under my gloves is overwhelming but, somehow, I manage to resist. I look back at Marie with an expressionless face]


    "I told you that they had taken something from me. The person responsible was one of the eight¡­ one of the Institute''s Stigmas."


    How are you so sure?


    "Well¡­ I wasn''t, not until just now. That''s what they called themselves. But now that you''ve told me this, I know who they are¡­ or at least I have a way to narrow the search down to eight people."


    Seven, actually. Alberich made it clear that choosing a new Stigma was a long, grueling process, one which could take years. I doubt he''s yet managed to fill the spot I refused.


    Stigma¡­ a curious word, isn''t it? It''s usually used to denote an mark of disgrace placed upon a certain person or circumstance. But there is another meaning. Do you know what it is?


    "¡­Yes. It is also the word for the tip of the pistil, a part of a flower''s reproductive organ."


    And wouldn''t you know it. A wisteria flower happens to have quite a few stigmas inside its petals, all sprouting from a single clump in the middle. The most common number for them to have is¡­ eight. Funny, isn''t it?


    "I''m afraid I fail to see the humor. Additionally, while that is important information, I think we''ve gotten away from the point of this interview somewhat."


    Still not willing to share your own experience with the Institute, despite the fact that you''ve convinced plenty others to do so, including me?


    "It''s¡­ not like that. I''ll tell you once this interview is over. And I promise my viewers that you will all know it as well¡­ in due time. I wouldn''t keep this information from you if I didn''t have a good reason."


    Very well, I will take your word for it at the moment.


    "So¡­ the proposal. You refused, correct?"


    I told Alberich that, despite everything he''d told me so far, job security included, there was still no single, concrete reason for me to join him. I would be joining a terrorist group. What benefit could possibly outweigh that?


    Then, he looked down at the sea, and told me to see for myself. I didn''t understand at first. The water still looked as dark as ever, but just as I was about to say that, the clouds above parted. Moonlight fell into the sea. And there, in a place far below the waves, a pleasant, soft blue light shone.


    Again, it''s¡­ difficult to explain what happened next. I could tell you that an array of images and information flashed before my eyes at light speed and you would probably understand, but it''s not exactly accurate. Imagine being strapped into a table, only to be shown a movie in a projector. The movie has been sped up until it''s only a blur, but still you can understand perfectly what''s happening.


    Then imagine that there are hundreds of people strapped to chairs being shown such movies in different rooms, and you are all of them. That is as close of an explanation as I can give.


    I learned¡­ things. Many things. Some relevant to what we''d been discussing, like part of the Abyssal Ruin''s true nature or a vague impression of who the other seven Stigmas were. Others, not so much. Still, by the time it all ended and I found myself next to Alberich once again, I held onto as much information as if I''d been reading a multitude of books non-stop for an entire year.


    That, Alberich told me, is what we can offer you. Knowledge. True, unblemished knowledge in quantities no normal human could possibly hold. Any kind of knowledge that I desired, no exception.


    I must admit¡­ it was tempting. As I''m sure it must be for anyone who''s offered an unlimited amount of whatever they''d been chasing after for their whole lives, without any kind of repercussion.


    Then again¡­ I live in the real world. Even knowledge can be used to put a wool over someone''s eyes, and I was not about to be led to a trap by someone waving a carrot in a stick at my face.


    I turned to Alberich, and politely informed him that I would not be joining his Institute. I am a very proud woman, you see. I like to hunt for my answers, to put every single one of my talents to use until I can unearth that which I''d been seeking. The journey, I told him, was just as fun as the destination.


    Besides, I added, I simply didn''t like him. My moral fiber prevented me from working with those who would intentionally hurt others or hide information from them so that they could keep it to themselves.


    Alberich stared at me for a few seconds. I could tell that he had a retort for every one of the points I''d raised, and in a gesture I would only see then in a man, he instead chose not to say anything. No amount of arguing would convince me, he said. He could respect that.


    I asked him what this meant. Would he kill me because I refused his offer?


    Another one of his laughs. This one sounded a bit less enthusiastic than the others, though.


    Alberich turned toward me and told me, in no uncertain terms, that he himself would not harm me. Unfortunately, he was only the leader of the institute in name. He could not stop any of his companions from going after me if they thought I would be a threat to their operation.


    Please take care, Miss Marie, he told me with a flat, saddened smile. I would hate this hunt of yours to come to an end so prematurely.


    I nodded, informing him that I would be prey to no one. Then, before he sent me away, I asked him one last question.


    This plan of theirs regarding the town of Wysteria¡­ had the disappearance of all those people been its final stage?


    No, he told me plainly. That was only the beginning.


    And then I was back in my office. As though nothing had happened. It even took Alakazam a moment to realize there was something wrong; had it not been for my quickened heart rate and the mental distress signals he must''ve gotten from me, I doubt he would''ve realized anything was wrong at all.


    Alberich was gone. I expected that to be the case. What I did not expect was just how thoroughly he managed to cover his steps in no time at all.


    "What do you mean by that?"


    He erased himself from the project, for one thing.


    I asked what few coworkers I still had, I asked my superiors, I even looked into documents that I am certain contained his name in them, and yet¡­ nothing. No one remembered him. No document held his name.


    What''s more unsettling however, is that another man had taken his place as co-investigator. A journalist by the name of John Finne. At first I thought he was in on it. But the more I tested his abilities and questioned his memories, the more I realized that he wasn''t lying or deceiving me. He truly believed that he''d been working alongside me for the past few months, and his knowledge and experience backed that up.


    So¡­ I had no choice but to accept what was happening around me, and try to find another way to reach answers.


    I never saw Alberich again. The next time I came in contact with someone from the Institute was the night I was attacked.


    "Did you see who they were?"


    I''m afraid not. I was in too much of a hurry to escape. Still, my house''s security was top notch. I''m sure no one but one of his Stigmas would''ve been able to catch me unaware like that


    And, as they say¡­ the rest is history. Quite literally, in my case.


    "If it means anything¡­ I''m sorry, for what happened. I know how frustrating it must be¡­"


    There''s no need for that mushiness. I admit, you got me saying more than I expected to say, and you seem to have a knack for extracting the truth from others without really doing much. I could use that skill. That is as far as our relationship goes; I hope you understand that.


    "¡­You know what? You''re right. I''m not sorry anymore."


    That''s the spirit.


    Now¡­ I believe that should be enough to give you the general idea of what we''re up against. Next, we should catch you up to speed. I''ve got a few files and interviews I''d like you to take a look at, but¡­ I''m not sure you''re up for it at the moment.


    Am I wrong?


    [I suppose I haven''t been as successful as I thought in hiding my¡­ distress.


    The tapping of my foot against the wooden floor is obvious, as is the way my lips have been pursed so tightly they''ve gone pale.


    I shake my head slightly.]


    "I''m sorry. Listening to this was¡­ a lot. I could do with a bit of fresh air and a smoke."


    What kind of coworker would I be if I refused?


    Go. I will clean up and might join you later for a smoke of my own. I believe we both have much to think about.


    We will continue our investigation after lunch. Does that sound good?


    "Yes. Thank you."


    [In all honesty, I''m still not entirely sure how much I can trust Marie. Anyone who''s come into contact with the Institute''s influence, especially to such a degree is¡­ tainted, in my eyes.


    Yes, I know it''s filthy rich coming from me. Still. Paranoia is not a logical thing.


    Regardless, I will continue to work at her side to uncover the truth. As they say, the most important step one can take is the next.


    Always the next.]


    <hr>


    Well. That was a doozy.


    That entry answers a few of my questions, though it also opens up a lot more.


    As for me, I''ve discovered that I''m somewhere in the suburbs of Cerulean City. The ominous shape of Mt. Moon in the distance gives it away.


    As for what on Earth I''m doing here¡­ I''ll update you on that as soon as I know.


    Luckily, the outskirts of this city are well known for their abundance of abandoned construction sites of homes and businesses, perfect for spending the night.


    Don''t¡­ ask me how I know that.


    I will eat and rest and try to recover both my strength and my composure. Tomorrow, I will try to secure a better living situation for myself, see if I can contact anyone through my social media, maybe even find a better place to stay.


    Then, I will begin investigating.


    I will update with my findings as soon as they are substantial.


    Until then. I urge you to take care, readers, and while I am not one for such things¡­


    I would ask you to pray for me.


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Fragment #2: Caesura

    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    Tulip Glasslip here.


    For the moment, let''s put aside all matters regarding my¡­ current personal circumstances. We''ll come back to that at the end of this entry.


    Or, well¡­ not entry. Fragment, I suppose. I''m a woman dedicated to her themes and aesthetic if nothing else and I firmly believe that if I ever use the name Entry for any of these again it should be accompanied by one of the many elusive names of the wisteria flower, as it is tradition. At the moment, however, I am lost, scattered. All the petals need to join back together so that I may once again bloom. Thus, fragments it will be for now.


    Anyway, I apologize. I''m sure no one wants to read me debating with myself about the general theme of the title of these things, but like I said, I am very dedicated to my craft.


    It''s the only fun I have left, I suppose.


    So¡­ Fragments. I''ve taken a few steps forward and I''ve come across a solid piece of evidence, so let''s focus on that for now.


    As I said previously, someone or something stripped my laptop clean of all personal files, and not even an advanced recovery program was able to find as much as a scrap. I tried social media next. I''m not an avid user of any of them but I have a few dummy accounts for investigative reasons and I thought maybe I could find a post or chat log which might shed light into what''s happened the last two years.


    Unfortunately, I was unable to log in to any of them. No matter what password I try, it is futile. I''ve tried changing it but even the answers to my secret questions seem to be erroneous. An attempt to look at my own profiles from an even newer account was in vain as well; all of them are set to private and I can''t even look at my friends/followers list.


    This website I''m using to upload my findings is the only thing I was able to access. And of course, nothing new has been posted for over two years, with the exception of an honestly staggering number of comments from all of you clamoring for my return. And more recently, a whole lot more celebrating it. It''s almost enough to make a girl blush.


    ¡­ Thank you. I mean it.


    In any case, I was lucky, in the end. Whoever had erased everything from my laptop missed one thing.


    There''s this program in my computer¡­ I think it''s one of those that upload your files to the cloud, or something like that. I''m not entirely sure of how it works, but when I opened it, I found something inside. A sound file, titled '' 3''.


    It was¡­ an interview. Not one of mine, but of Marie''s, set shortly after her encounter with Alberich. Judging from the file''s title and its content, I can only assume that this was one of the pieces of information she would''ve shown me shortly following her explanation featured in the last fragment.


    It took me a while, but I''ve managed to transcribe the contents of the interview. I''ll leave them below:


    <hr>


    [The recording begins with the sound of a woman clearing her throat, followed by the shuffling of hands over a table. There is a moment of silence before Marie speaks]


    "Testing, testing. One, two. Very well.


    This is a recording by Marie Levy Corenthal. I''ve travelled to Pallet town after insistent recommendation from my assistants in order to personally interview Mr. Yasuhiro Tanaka. He is not an ex-citizen of Wysteria, but if what I''ve been told is to be believed, his one visit to the town many years ago resulted in a clash with¡­ supernatural forces.


    Mr. Tanaka. Please, state your experience."


    Ah, oh¡­ right, yah. Do I just tell you everything that happened or¡­?


    "Go over the whole story, yes. Just don''t dawdle."


    ¡­ Yah. Alright.


    [Mr Tanaka''s voice is that of an old, chain-smoking man, and his accent is so thick and present that I''ve been forced to smooth it out somewhat in order for this to be easily readable. I doubt I could''ve understood it much myself if my mother hadn''t also grown up in the country.


    She''d probably be mad at me for doing this if she could read this. But in all honesty¡­ fuck her.]


    Blinking lights is¡­ it''s such a clich¨¦, y''know? Don''t wanna make my experience sound universal or anything; I''m sure being a photographer and loving cinema so much makes it easier for me to notice patterns in some stories, but I feel like that one''s well known even for normal folk.


    Ask anyone, even lil'' kids who''ve only seen a couple horror movies, what''s the easiest way to know that something spooky''s going on. The lights flickering, of course. Dunno if there''s some psychology behind it or whatever. Maybe it''s the light being slowly but obviously being taken away from us, maybe it''s the flickering itself making us think of dying, twitching things. Whatever the case, it''s always the same. And whenever I saw it in a movie, I wondered why the characters always took so long to realize something was wrong.


    I know now, though. Horror¡­ real horror, has a way of sneaking up on you. Easing you step by step until you finally go over the edge and you can''t honestly remember at which point any significant change occurred.


    Well I guess there was one point. But even then, I didn''t have a real reason for bein'' suspicious that someone over at Wysteria needed my services. Was for a party following a wedding, they told me. Next week. Said they couldn''t find anyone else to take care of photography and that they''d heard of me from a friend. Apparently I had a reputation for being hard-working and responsible, and if I accepted the job they''d make sure I was well compensated.


    In all honesty, I don''t think they were in on it. Yeah I know. Doesn''t make much sense to contact a photographer from half across the damn region but rich people are like that sometimes. Probably heard my name once and were all ''Ah whatever, can''t bother to look for someone else. Sure, bring him in and we''ll pay him extra for the trouble''.


    And boy did they pay extra. As soon as I saw the full amount, all doubts regarding this job left me. Sure, I''d have to travel from Pallet to Wysteria, but so what? Didn''t have kids or a partner or anyone to take care of, and besides, the trip would be good for catching up an all those radio shows I''d been meaning to listen to.


    So I made my way to Wysteria over the span of a couple days and told the couple I''d be happy to meet with them and discuss the job after finding a hotel and taking a well-deserved shower. The bride stuttered on the other side of the phone. Then she laughed, telling me that she''d totally forgotten to tell me. There was no need for me to pay for lounging. I could just stay in the small home half a block from their new house, where her boyfriend had lived before he''d moved in with her. She told me it was a little dingy and probably full of cobwebs, but the bed was still there and the water, gas and electricity still ran.


    Again¡­ that''s rich folk for you, I suppose. The ''small home'' was by far the biggest place I''d ever stayed in, with three rooms, a kitchen, a living room and two bathrooms, but of course I didn''t tell that to the couple.


    They were¡­ nice folk, really. I''ve never been one for politeness when it comes to the rich, but at some point regardless of the money they have you can''t truly be mad at them if they treat you with such kindness and consideration. The bride didn''t shoot me any dirty looks or suspicious glares. She just showed me around the place a bit, gave me the key and told me to meet them in their house after I''d gotten a little rest.


    ¡­ I first saw the blinking window that afternoon. I''d showered and gotten ready, and decided to get a quick smoke from the kiosk I''d seen a couple streets away before heading over. There it was when I was walking back¡­ almost beckoning.


    Er. I should probably explain a bit the layout of the houses for this to make sense. Is it¡­?


    "It''s fine. Go ahead."


    Right. So imagine you walk out the door to your house. In front of you is the ''side'' of one of the houses, the wall that leads to their backyard. To get to the couple''s house you have to walk across the street and to the left, passing the front of that first house until you get to the second, which is theirs. And keep in mind that the houses themselves are a lot taller than the walls around their backyards, having more than one floor and all.


    Now imagine that instead of crossing the street and going left, you just go right, like I did when I went to buy a pack of cigs. When you come back¡­ you see it.


    Up past the wall to the first backyard, I saw the blinking window. It was small. The kind that you gotta open up instead of to the side, which was only good to let some air in. I doubt anyone pudgier than me could''ve gotten through.


    It led to one of the rooms in the second floor. And the light inside that room was blinking like crazy. It flickered on and off couple times per second like someone was throwing one of those rave parties in there.


    Of course I didn''t give it much of a reaction at the time. Just frowned and thought it must''ve been a faulty light bulb or something of the sort.


    I met with the couple that afternoon. Like I said, they were¡­ nice. Miller, I think their family name was. They led me ''round the inside of the house while I took notes and explained to them which spots would be the best for shooting depending on what kinda pictures would be needed. You know, judging location, lighting, all that. I''d be working mostly in their enormous backyard but suggested a couple places we could use for specific shoots with just the two of them.


    Almost two hours later, we were done with the planning. They¡­ thanked me, I remember. Again, I was baffled by how genuine the both of them sounded when they smiled and shook my hand and told me how much they appreciated my expertise.


    If it weren''t for what happened after¡­ I might remember them as the best customers I''ve ever gotten.


    "What about the blinking room? Did you see it while touring the house?"


    That''s the thing. By that time I was so focused on my work that I barely remembered what I''d seen, so I didn''t even look for it. But looking back on it now¡­ no. There was definitely no room in the second floor that matched the location that window led to.


    Though I would only discover that a couple days later.


    That day was a Monday, I think. They told me to come by Wednesday when all the plastic and non-perishable decorations would arrive so I could see if any changes would be needed, and I agreed.


    That night I had trouble sleeping. Odd, considering how tired I felt the moment I lay down. Couldn''t have slept more than five hours, and when I woke up at around 8 a.m. my head was pounding. And my eyes¡­ they felt sore and itchy like I''d been staring at a bright screen for hours.


    I¡­ tried not to pay it too much mind. Shit like that happens sometimes.


    Not much to talk about regarding that Tuesday. I spent most of the day planning on my own, taking care of my equipment and visiting one of the nearby parks ''cause I didn''t have much better to do. I would''ve tried reading a book or watching some T.V. but like I said, my head was pounding like crazy and that would''ve only made it worse.


    Though¡­ I did see the blinking light again. I''m positive they weren''t flickering during the day when I went out to the park, but later when I was coming back from buying something to eat for dinner¡­ there it was. This time, I did pay a bit more attention to it. And as I stared up at that window I¡­ I could''ve sworn that the odd pounding in my head, just behind my eyes, perfectly mirrored the rhythm at which the lights turned off and on. Like¡­ perfectly so.


    I didn''t get much sleep that night either. But I''ve never let something like insomnia or a headache stop me from doing my work, especially with so much money on the line, so I bit the bullet and went through the rest of the day examining the decorations at the Miller''s house and finding the best places for shoots.


    But even then, I felt odd, scattered. My eyelids were heavy and every time I closed my eyes I felt that same, persistent pounding behind my eyes. I couldn''t get the image of that blinking light behind the window out of my mind. At one point after I finished confirming something with the husband I offhandedly mentioned it, passing it off as just curiosity.


    I remember he stopped in the middle of hanging one of the decorations and looked over his shoulder at me, frowning. I repeated to him what I''d seen. I asked if maybe there was a light in one of the rooms in the second floor that was faulty during the night and I told him where in the floor the window was. He didn''t¡­ I mean, I don''t think his confusion was faked. He told me he hadn''t noticed anything like that in any of the rooms. But most importantly¡­ the house didn''t have a room with a window like that.


    The look on my face must''ve been something else because Mr. Miller actually took me seriously and went to check. And yes, just like he''d said, there was¡­ nothing there. The hallway simply stopped at a wall, and the nearest room on that side, the bathroom, contained no window like the one I''d seen from outside.


    Still¡­ Something about the hallway itself had seemed odd to me from the moment I''d seen it. It felt like it ended before it was supposed to. Either the wall itself was a lot thicker than was reasonable or¡­


    In any case, I decided to drop the subject. Mr. Miller told me I''d probably mistaken their house for someone else''s from that angle and I had no desire to argue with such a conclusion.


    I worked hard for the rest of the day, but I was¡­ silent. Less cheery. I remember being surprised and jumping at nothing when I heard a sound or felt something while I had my eyes closed. As though part of me expected the world itself to pause while I did it, which made absolutely no sense.


    At the time, at least.


    That night I¡­ I actually went looking for it. Get some ease of mind, y''know? Make sure I wasn''t hallucinating or anything. And¡­ yeah. There it was. Up and across the street, past that wall, the blinking light taunted me from behind that window. I hadn''t been mistaken. There was absolutely no chance that wasn''t somewhere inside the Miller''s house.


    I stood there for a while, debating whether I should bring it up again or just let it go. I mean¡­ it was just a light. So what if there was a weird blinking room hidden in the back of the second floor? I did have some thoughts¡­ regarding what could''ve merited building such a room. Was there something illegal going on there?


    But¡­ no. They wouldn''t make the room so obvious if that were the case and besides, Mr. Miller had looked genuinely surprised when I''d brought it up. Not to toot my own horn or anything but I am pretty good at knowing when someone''s lying at me. I guess after years of seeing the clearly fake emotions in some of the photos I''d taken, I''d learn to recognize them at a glance. And I knew that whatever was happening up there in that room, the Millers weren''t responsible.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    And when I thought that¡­ I noticed. Was the flickering of the light getting faster? The frequency must''ve increased while I was distracted. It didn''t even look like a strobe light anymore, it blinked multiple times a second and just looking at it made my headache much worse. The light was beating like a second heart behind my eyes. I know it makes no sense, even now I can barely recount it, but that''s the only way I can describe it.


    I was just about to look away, you know. I wonder¡­ what would''ve happened if I had. If I''d gotten away before¡­


    Well. Maybe it would''ve been just a couple more days of headaches. Maybe it wouldn''t have made a difference. Doesn''t really matter.


    All of a sudden, there was flash of light from behind the window. Much brighter and stronger than any of the previous flickers, and even though it''s not true I could''ve sworn it lasted for an entire second. It was like¡­ like standing in front of the lamp of a lighthouse when it''s turned on.


    I jumped back and cursed like hell until I hit the back of my feet on something and fell on my ass in the middle of the street. Thank goodness there was no one out, I guess. I already looked like a vagrant who''d moved in to this neighborhood, I didn''t wanna also make them think I was crazy.


    "This¡­ sudden flash of light. I imagine it''s what the slow flickering was slowly building towards. Did it continue afterwards?"


    I¡­ yeah. But it was slower this time. Like the first time I saw it.


    "What happened afterwards?"


    I walked away and tried my best to ignore it.


    My mind was playing tricks on me, clearly. Maybe¡­ maybe I''d inhaled something bad last time I''d mixed the chemicals in my dark room and these were the after effects. The possibility was¡­ horrifying. But like I said, I tried not to think about it. I needed to focus on the wedding. If I could just¡­ make it to the weekend and do my job, I''d get enough money that I''d never have to worry again about blinking lights or hallucinations or anything else.


    That night, when I went to sleep, I prayed to get a good night''s sleep.


    And my prayers were answered.


    It''s¡­ hard to describe what happened to me then. When exactly had the change begun. But I remember clearly that, the moment I lay down and closed my eyes, it felt like everything around me had disappeared. Not just the light and sounds. It''s like... you know when you go to sleep but even after you close your eyes you can still picture where everything is in your mind? The world goes black, but it''s still there around you.


    At that moment¡­ it really didn''t feel like it was. But I was too tired to complain or pay it much mind. That night I slept like a corpse, and I mean that almost literally. There were no dreams. No slowly easing into being asleep. I was like a lamp or a light bulb. A flick of the switch and¡­ I was gone.


    Waking up was the same. I just opened my eyes again and there I was laying on my bed, the world still existing around me. I remember being surprised because I always have trouble getting out of bed. Takes me a while to realize I''m asleep. And once I do, it takes me even longer to will myself to get up.


    This was different. I just¡­ was, again. No drowsiness, nothing. Like my body could only exist in binary terms, either awake or asleep, no in-between.


    It was¡­ like that for the rest of the day. It''s hard to remember much of a day where you''re constantly in a state of¡­ simmering panic. Trying to hold it together. Telling yourself that everything''s okay, that there''s oughta be an explanation for this. A disease, most likely. I rationalized that all I had to do was get through this weekend and then use some of the money I''d earn to go to a doctor and get it fixed.


    Yeah, I know. But like I said, most of the day was a blur ''cause of the state I was in, so it gets hard to recall.


    I remember that the day passed a lot faster than I expected. I would blink, close my eyes for just a second, and every light and noise and sense of where I was vanished completely. Then when I opened them again, minutes would''ve passed.


    I tried my best to distract myself. At one point I was talking a walk through the neighborhood to at least make some use of that anxious energy and that''s when I ran into Ms. Miller. I''d been avoiding the street from which I could see that window, so when I headed back I couldn''t help but pass by their house.


    She¡­ greeted me. Kinda smile that could brighten anyone''s day up. But I''d had enough of brightness. Even as we talked and exchanged pleasantries, I could feel something inside myself¡­ something telling me to go back home. Hide under the blankets and close my eyes. Make everything dark and right again.


    The thought terrified me. At one point¡­ I think we''d finished speaking and I was supposed to go, but I stayed a few seconds longer. I asked her¡­ dunno why but I asked her where they''d gotten the house from. If they''d built it themselves or bought it from someone else.


    She wasn''t put off by the question, so I probably didn''t sound as scared and desperate as I felt. She just smiled and shook her head. It was quite the funny story, she told me. They''d both been looking for a house since they had a young son and their old one was too small to raise him in.


    She actually said that with a straight face. That her old house wasn''t big enough to raise kids in. Had I not been in such a terrified state, it would''ve been hard not to laugh.


    "¡­Please stay on topic, Mr. Tanaka."


    Right, sorry.


    Anyway, she said that with house prices being what they were, it was getting harder and harder to find a good spot in Wysteria. And of course they didn''t want to move, she said. This town meant too much to both of them and it''s not like they''d be able to keep their jobs if they did. But then¡­


    I remember she smiled so brightly in between breaths then, I recoiled a bit. Their boss, she said. Both of them worked for the same company, and it turned out their boss had been meaning to sell his house for quite a while. A beautiful home with two floors and a wondrous and fertile backyard. Perfect. But most amazingly, the price was¡­ well, to be honest, she felt an almost criminal guilt to pay so little for it.


    But they had been friends with their boss for a while and he was nothing if not a generous man. Besides¡­ he''d said he''d gotten almost everything he needed from that house.


    I¡­ didn''t know what to say. This wasn''t the answer I expected but then again, what was I expecting? What do you do when the truth ends up being more suspicious than your own assumptions?


    In any case, that''s when we parted ways. She told me she needed to hurry back and get ready. I asked her what for and she beamed at me again and said that tonight was their bachelor and bachelorette''s party, and they both wanted to have a night of fun before finally tying the ribbon.


    I¡­ barely listened to what she said after that. Just nodded and told her I hoped the night was as fun as they expected. But deep down, I was still repeating what I''d just heard to myself over and over, like a light flickering on and off.


    They''d both be gone tonight. The house would be empty.


    I don''t need to tell you the stupid plan I came up with. You already know.


    In my defense, what little of it there can be¡­ I did muse it over for hours. But no matter how much I tried to argue against the idea, or what arguments I used to prove that it was idiotic or crazy or just plain out illegal¡­ it was for nothing. I think deep down I knew. That I''d end up going no matter what. I was like a Venomoth trying to stop itself from flying into a fire.


    Some base instincts you can''t fight against, I suppose.


    I¡­ waited outside, hidden behind a tree, until I saw their car leave. Almost didn''t. As the sun went down it got harder and harder to stop myself from just going over there and to hell with the consequences. But I somehow controlled myself. But once they were gone¡­ I don''t think I could''ve climbed that wall faster if my life depended on it.


    Once atop the wall, I slowly and carefully walked through the roof of the first house toward theirs. And the weird thing was¡­ I don''t think anyone noticed me. There was a Growlithe in their backyard for Mew''s sake! They can smell you from a mile away and you''re telling me it just lay there while I walked across its master''s roof? And it''s not like my steps didn''t make any noise. Yes I''m thin and rather small but still.


    As soon as I closed my eyes¡­ it was like I wasn''t there. Like no one in the world could''ve noticed me.


    I¡­ reached the end of the roof and there it was. The houses were built pretty close together so I just had to shuffle a bit to get in front of the blinking window.


    I don''t know why, but I refused to look inside. No, I¡­ I wanted to be inside. And somehow it felt like if I peeked before I entered it wouldn''t¡­ be right? I don''t know.


    The window wasn''t locked. I knew that before I opened it. Slipping inside was¡­ easy, like I''d somehow gotten this thin, frail body for the purpose of being there, at that point, to slip through that window.


    It''s¡­ hard to recall what of everything happened first. It was all too fast. But I remember my feet touching the floor of that hidden room. The light shone against my back. Its flickering wasn''t as fast as before. And even though the change from flicker to flicker would''ve been impossible to notice, I somehow knew¡­ it was getting slower. Each time, the darkness persisted for just a little bit longer.


    I didn''t turn around. But it wasn''t because I was scared of what I''d see. Scared of whatever was making that light.


    I was just busy trying to determine if my eyes were open or not.


    I honestly couldn''t tell. At that point I don''t think it mattered anymore. When the light shone, I could see, even if they were closed. When it went off, I couldn''t. Simple as that. A perfect binary state, with nothing in between.


    Someone spoke just then. I wasn''t surprised. Somehow I knew that there was someone else in the room with me. You know that feeling you get when you''re being watched? When you just know there''s someone else there? I felt that¡­ but only when the light went out. Somehow, I knew that if I were to turn around and look at the room when it was lit up, I''d see nor hear no one.


    It was a man''s voice. Young. There was such a chipper and cordial energy in his tone as he told me he should''ve expected something like this to happen. I would''ve replied. Ask what he meant but¡­ I was too taken away by the voice itself. The way its sound only reached me when the room was dark. It was something like¡­


    [At this point, Mr. Tanaka attempts to imitate the way the man''s voice sounded with his own. Each dash is a pause. A caesura.]


    H-e wa-s sp-eaki-ng-li-ke-thi-s.


    The man then sighed and whispered to himself that they should''ve moved the Blossoming forward until after the Miller''s wedding, but oh well, what can you do. The collateral damage would be¡­ minimal, he told me, and I could have sworn, even if I didn''t see it myself, that the smile upon his face then was nothing short of glacial.


    I¡­ was scared then, I''ll admit. I didn''t dare turn around. I asked¡­ who he was, and his reply was quick and to the point.


    I a-m th-e si-xt-h.


    His declaration sounded like a purr, like a whisper of triumph. There was such pride and unbridled glee in his voice. I don''t think I''d ever heard a man sound so perversely happy.


    I swallowed, and could feel my own heartbeat trying to rise against the tempo of the decreasing flickering of the light, but it was now tied to it. Nausea and weakness overtook me. I asked¡­ I asked if he would kill me.


    The man laughed, and with each beat of that laughter in between flashes of light I could hear it come closer and closer. Until finally, I felt his breath on the back of my neck. The flickering was weaker now. Almost nonexistent. I knew that the light was finally about to give out.


    He whispered in my ear that no, he would not kill me. He was curious. If he was to be blessed by this light, what would happen to me once it flickered away for good? Would I become his opposite? The negative to his positive? The zero to his one? He very much hoped so.


    Then, slowly, almost tenderly, he reached around me and placed something in my hands. Something heavy and plastic. My fingers recognized it instantly; it was a camera.


    I fearfully asked why he''d given me this, and I swear I heard his smile. Felt it in my bones.


    Just then, the light flickered one last time. The room fell still and dark, and at the same time I felt my own heart cease to a halt. I couldn''t breathe. Couldn''t see.


    But I didn''t die. And I felt with every cell of my being as the man put his lips close to my ear and whispered the reply to my previous question. This time, his voice wasn''t cut off at all.


    Because, he told me, a photographer is only alive when the light flashes.


    I knew, then, what I had to¡­ what he wanted me to do. I finally turned around, but of course I couldn''t see. So I raised the camera to my face, and faced it forward as I pressed the button.


    An impossibly bright light swallowed the room and there, for just a moment, I could see them. The man. He looked¡­ even younger than I''d expected. He was thin and spindly like me, but most of his body was hidden in the bulkiness of a white lab coat. He was blond, I remember. Blond with a streak of blue hair that went around his head. And his eyes¡­ there was absolutely nothing human behind them. No love or compassion or anything that would make him tick. In that infinitesimal moment, I felt him staring into me like he was a butcher and I was a Tepig.


    I also saw what had been the source of that light. There was a big glass tank in the middle of the room, and inside was a Pokemon. Aquatic, I imagine, since it had that kinda shape. It was mostly blue except for the yellow scales around the eyes. And dangling from its head was¡­ well what I imagine had been causing that light. It looked like the round glass at the tip of an Ampharos'' tail. Might be the same thing.


    The Pokemon was dead, of course. I could tell, even if I only saw it for a moment. And the liquid it was suspended in¡­ dunno how but I knew that it wasn''t water. It was transparent like water but it looked¡­ slimy? Viscous. Like some kinda gel.


    Then just when I realized that, the light faded. The picture had been taken. I''d had my one moment of life.


    And then¡­


    Well, I don''t remember anything after that.


    "Nothing?"


    Nothing. Woke up in my car the day after the wedding. Apparently I''d actually gone through with it since the cash was in my wallet, but I couldn''t find any of my cameras anywhere. The only thing I found was a slip of paper in my pocket. Small. Had a message in it, written by hand.


    Don''t come back.


    And¡­ I didn''t. That was it.


    "You haven''t had an encounter with the man or anyone else suspicious ever since?"


    No. And to be honest, ever since it''s more like everyone normal around me has had a strange encounter with me.


    "You''ve¡­ kept the abilities you gained while in Wysteria."


    You experienced it for yourself, didn''t you? When you entered the room and couldn''t find me until I opened my eyes.


    "Yes. I admit, I had to¡­ see it to believe it."


    It''s been like that ever since. When I''m in darkness or I close my eyes¡­ it''s like I''m not there. My heart stops beating. Everything disappears around me and no one can even notice my presence.


    But¡­ I guess it''s better to just be alive. I''ve done what I can to live with who¡­ with what I am so far. And honestly¡­ it''s not been as bad as I expected.


    Turns out there''s not much that differentiates a monster from a normal person.


    "¡­Yes. Quite."


    Then¡­ is that all?


    "Almost. I thank you for your time and the invaluable information you''ve given me, but I''m afraid there''s one more thing I need to ask of you. However, I''ll need to turn the recorder off for this."


    What are y¨C


    [The recording stops, then resumes a second later. Mary speaks to herself.]


    Well. Isn''t that something.


    When they suggested I interview this man myself I knew his statement must have been substantial but¡­ wow. An actual account of a Stigma''s rise to power. If I still believed in such a thing, I''d say luck has shone on me today.


    From what I''ve gathered, the Blossoming is the process through which someone becomes a Stigma for the Institute. A ritual of sorts. Not all of them gain supernatural abilities from their own Blossoming; I''m confident in guessing some possessed them even before joining and others have none at all. It would seem it is a ritual in name only. Still. It''s a very valuable piece of information.


    Now, I''m not sure just how much stock I''d put in Mr. Tanaka''s vivid recollection of the events, but if his description of this man, this sixth Stigma is accurate¡­ then that raises more question than it answers. A certain scientist came to mind immediately upon hearing it. However, that man''s age does not match with the date in which this event took place. And while him gaining the exact opposite abilities as Mr. Tanaka is indeed frightening, said abilities would not include... heh, eternal youth.


    More research will need to be conducted. Then again, is that not always the case?


    [The recording ends here.


    Marie''s last comments are insightful, but there''s something she''s missed. Not caring much for individual statements from Wysteria''s ex-citizens has come back to bite her yet again, it seems.


    These Millers¡­ I am convinced they''re the same couple that vanished alongside their son Marty following the lighthouse incident, fifteen years after this statement. And¡­ even that took place almost three decades ago.


    Just how long has Wysteria served as the Institute''s trial grounds? Were Maes and the Millers¡­ were Monika, Horace, Kate and Mark¡­ was I¡­ just another one of the countless domino pieces placed neatly in a line, simply toyed with because there was a point in which I needed to fall for their plan to be a success?


    And if the disappearance of the townsfolk was not the final stage of said plan¡­ what the hell am I staring at? What, exactly, am I fighting against?


    ¡­


    Whatever the case, I now know the identity of yet another Stigma. Mary''s implication was not lost on me. Personally, I don''t care how this man managed to be alive so many years ago. Magical or not, rotten bastards like him drop dead all with the same thump.


    I''m making a list. And assholes like him better pray they''re not in it]


    <hr>


    Well then.


    This is the kind of information I''m sure would have been ¨Cand probably was¨C immensely useful to me two years ago. Not that I don''t appreciate it now. I just wish I could''ve found anything regarding my missing memories or the cause thereof.


    But what can you do.


    I took a closer look at the program, and while there wasn''t anything in the bin, the transfer history tab told me that a significant number of files were transferred toward another drive more than two weeks ago. I don''t know what kind of files, or how many. Still, it''s a piece of evidence nonetheless.


    As for my living situation, I''ve graduated from being homeless, if barely.


    Since I couldn''t risk leaving Cerulean yet, I wandered through the city during my free time, looking for any half-time job that required no documents or certifications from my part. In that, at least, luck shone on me.


    Near the slums, I found a small, dingy archival office run by a crusty old lady looking for¡­ a secretary, she called it. In truth, servant might have been a more appropriate work. Cleaning, archiving, assisting during checkups, answering the phone, there seems to be no end to the number of tasks I can be entrusted with. Still, she asks no questions and pays me weekly. It will be enough for now.


    I feel bad for that poor guy who competed against me during the job interview. Lynne, I believe his name was? He looked about as desperate as me and I could have sworn he shot me a look of pure hatred when I was chosen over him. But I cannot dwell in pity at the moment. I needed to secure my position as soon as possible.


    Now that starving or being jumped and stabbed to death in my sleep isn''t an¡­ immediate concern, I can focus more in my investigation.


    I''ll take my laptop to a nearby IT place, see if any of those people know of a way to recover the deleted/transferred files.


    Furthermore, now that the trail has gone cold, I''ll look around the hotel I woke up in and see if I can find anything. There hasn''t been any news of a dead Alakazam in the news. I doubt the body is still there, however.


    Until then, continue to keep me in your thoughts. I''ll make sure to keep you in mine


    Cheers,


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Fragment #3: Pressure

    Tulip Glasslip here.


    In my defense, I never claimed to be smart.


    As it turns out, blog-style websites like mine have this neat function that allows you to postpone the posting of an entry (or fragment in this case) for an indefinite amount of time. You know, in case you want to queue them up or something. And it seems that''s exactly what past me wanted to do.


    There are three posts which were apparently written a while back, months apart from each other, all interviews done by me personally (the style is unmistakable) yet for some reason I never posted them. I just left them in limbo. Was this something Marie told me to do? Perhaps I was waiting until I had the full picture to post my findings. Whatever the case, while these interviews are most certainly illuminating, even if none of them have an answer as to why I''ve lost my memories.


    I''ve been looking over them and cross-referencing them just in case. I''ll post the content of the first out of the three interviews below.


    Again, thank you to the helpful commenters which gave me the tip to look in my own website for answers. You guys are troopers. With you at my side, my computer illiteracy is no longer a weakness.


    And with all that aside, here it is:


    <hr>


    [Lorelei is every bit as intimidating in person as one would expect from someone who is both an Elite Four member and a congresswoman. A feat made more impressive by the fact that, unlike in Sinnoh, the Pokemon League and the local government are completely separate institutions.


    Her reforms to the League challenge as well as numerous policies all across the region have earned her a controversial reputation. She is most famously responsible for the abolishment of the Right to Labor amendment, which made it practically impossible for unions to be formed in any of the cities or towns that supported it.


    Many have called her a traitor and unpatriotic for trying to move away from the Kantan groundwork regarding labor laws ¨Cwhich was originally taken and adapted from the Hoennese government¨C and more toward the way Sinnoh and Kalos function, giving greater rights and power to the workers as opposed to the corporations.


    It''s taken months for this meeting to happen. Lorelei wastes time on nothing and her schedule is always so full that even if an appointment is canceled, many more would be eager to take its place. Luckily for me, she''s fallen ill recently. This normally wouldn''t be enough to stop her, but the strain of cold she''s caught is contagious enough for the League to force her to take a few days off. And, with nothing better to do, she finally decided to answer my messages.


    She sits at the other side of the table with arms crossed, the tip of her shoe tapping against the floor anxiously. Every few seconds her hands twitch or her gaze moves toward a nearby desk. It''s as though she''s expecting a pile of papers to suddenly materialize before her.]


    None of us could''ve seen it coming, and if anyone claims different then they''re full of shit.


    "You''re talking about the sudden disappearance of the entirety of Wysteria''s population, yes?"


    It was madness. Something literally out of this world, as far as I''m concerned, and yet we are still getting blamed for it.


    Look, I won''t try to defend the indefensible. Whether you''re talking about the League or the government, I''ll be the first to admit that both institutions screwed up plenty of times. The Wedger bill, some of the post-war, policies, our dismissal of some of the social programs that probably would have saved us a lot of time and money, the whole Rocket incident¡­


    Dear Mew, the Rocket incident. That''s still something I mentally kick myself for every day. With a single fuck-up I gave my critics enough to sustain themselves on for the rest of their lives. A criminal organization working right under my nose, and led by one of our Gym leaders no less! Not to mention our asses had to be put out of the fire by a couple of eleven-year olds. I don''t think I''ll ever live that down, and part of me thinks I shouldn''t.


    But yes, neither the League nor the state were blameless. I would know; I worked for both. Still, the fact that every year there''s a new protest or hearing regarding the Wysteria incident¡­ give me a fucking break.


    Yes, we are responsible for the safety of the populace and yes, we do have an entire department dedicated to the study and containment of supernatural phenomena around certain Pokemon. Do you want to know how big that department is? An office. Literally just a small office. Unlike other regions, our local legends prefer minding their own business, so with the rare exception we aren''t very used to such phenomena occurring on large scales.


    Could we have prevented this by increasing the size and reach of that department? Yes. But resources are limited and besides, how on earth could we have known something like this would happen? You have to understand, we are not prepared for magic. When I sit down to do my work, I expect down-to-earth problems. Trainer reforms, Pokemon population control, new bills that need to be passed, things like that. What happened in Wysteria was simply too out of the ordinary, too supernatural to have been foreseen beforehand.


    "Yet some of the signs were there. The number of unexplained incidents all throughout the town''s history¡­"


    Statistical anomalies.


    "That is not¡­"


    You''re right, it wasn''t that, but did we have any reason to believe otherwise back then?


    Go ask the higher-ups in Hoenn how they ''prepared'' for that whole Team Aqua-Magma debacle. Yes, the signs are always there. But if you''d been in their shoes, would you have believed that a group of stupid thugs led by a couple of bastards with delusions of grandeur would''ve been capable of actually resurrecting the lords of the earth and sea? It''s absurd! The likelihood of them succeeding was infinitesimal, and yet luck was clearly not on Hoenn''s side. Same thing with the Flare incident in Kalos. Or hell, go ask Cynthia how they''re doing with the whole Team Galactic problem.


    Some things are so fantastic that you simply can''t take them seriously as a threat until they''re right in front of you, staring you in the face. There is so much more we need to worry about every day. I can assure you that a single day of bureaucratic mismanagement could do more harm than any legendary Pokemon could hope to.


    "Those examples are all referring to ideological groups trying to change the world. But this was different, was it not?"


    Maybe so, but it was just as unexpected, and that''s what matters. That''s what prevented us from realizing something was wrong until it was too late.


    Again, I''m not trying to make excuses, but we were in absolute shambles back then. Barely two years off the tail-end of the biggest, most devastating war our land had ever known. It wasn''t just our government that was being held together by metaphorical duct tape. Our people were tired. Broken. They wanted the state to reassure them, to help rebuild what the greed of my antecessors had shattered.


    And¡­ I know this won''t garner us any sympathy, but we were tired too. People often forget that we government workers are also¡­ you know, people. It is our duty to endure what others can''t in the name of our land''s prosperity, but you can only place so much weight on a person''s shoulders before they crack. We''d just lost a war, but I think deep down we didn''t care much about that, only that it was finally over. I''m sure many thought it was like cutting off a limb. Horrible, yes, but once it was done it was done, and you could start working on recovery.


    We all underestimated how long that recovery would take. How much it would ask of us.


    We lost a lot of good people right after the war. Most of them transferred. The few that had the option to, simply retired. And some of us that had no way to escape¡­ well, I don''t need to tell you about the suicide rate spike amongst the government during those months. It has been extensively documented.


    Part of me wants to be bitter at them, but I just can''t. They must have looked up and realized the grueling, endless climb that awaited all of us, and simply couldn''t take it.


    I was pretty much a political assistant at the time, a title whose job description might as well be ''Do all the shit no one else wants to''. I won''t sugarcoat it; it was hell. Right now, every single day of full work is a paradise compared to what I had to go through back then. And to think I still somehow found the time to train my team and try to apply for the Elite Four position. How I wish I still had that youthful vigor.


    "I think we''re getting a bit away from the point here, miss Lorelei."


    Right. Sorry, guess I got caught up in reminiscing.


    Point is, it would have been an extreme oversimplification to say we had our hands full at the time. The rebuilding of Vermillion''s dock and a quarter of the city itself was taking the better part of two and a half years, and it was our main priority at the time. We needed naval transport up and ready again. The Sevii islands were clamoring for help and we could do little but tell them to wait. Then there was Fuchsia and Viridian¡­ I could go for hours about what a nightmare dealing with the aftermath was in those towns, but I''ll spare you the grisly details.


    All in all, what possible reason could we have had to worry about a few ''statistical anomalies'' in a town like Wysteria? No offense to any ex-citizens, of course. But you can''t deny that amidst all that chaos, a dingy little settlement that could barely call itself a town would have never become our top priority. Not until¡­ that day, of course.


    "Those statistical anomalies¡­"


    The first sign came from the Department of Workforce Statistical Analysis. Simultaneously one of the most repulsive yet ¨Cif I''m forced to admit it¨C surprisingly useful ideas my predecessor came up with while he was still in office. It was mostly a tool to analyze individual work output in every town. Think of it like a daily census for the productivity of every industry, gauged by the result of comparing time spent working with the amount of raw ''labor'' produced.


    Just saying it out loud makes me want to gag. This was back when almost all industries had been subsidized by the government. We got a lot of backlash for that. And I can''t say I found the idea palatable at the time, but it was the only choice we had if we wanted to get the region up and running as soon as possible again. The daily census though¡­ that was a piece of shit for sure. Again, this was before I even thought of updating and changing labor policies, and way before I had the power to make such a dream a reality. Unions were a pipedream at best. And now came this tool that allowed the government to have complete knowledge and control over the workers they oversaw, without any negative consequences on their part.


    And the worst fucking part is that it was one of the most useful tools we had back then. I absolutely loathed it. Every time I felt relief at having such a convenient way to oversee the productivity of the workers all across the region, it was swiftly followed by a wave of disgust, mostly at myself.


    Maybe all that accumulated disgust and bitterness is what eventually turned me into what I am now. If so, I can''t complain. My only regret is that I didn''t act sooner.


    But that''s beside the point. Wysteria. We''re here to talk about Wysteria.


    Like I said, the first sign came from the census. One day I was looking over the statistics of the town while I had my morning coffee, and I noticed something¡­ odd.


    Overnight, the overall productivity of the town had raised by more than 3%. I know it might not sound like much, but in the context of the tools we were dealing with, that was a ludicrous jump. You could only wish for such an increase over the span of weeks, but overnight?


    I mean, not to say I was unhappy. Had I not been so skeptical I might have smiled at the news. But a 3% jump¡­ yes, there was definitely something strange. Unfortunately I didn''t have much time to worry about it so I simply told one of the other assistants to check the statistics again to see if there''d been an error in the algorithm, and then went on with my day.


    "But there was no error in the algorithm, I assume?"


    Not only that, but the next day the productivity had improved another 0.5%, and I received reports that the amount of overtime in the worker''s shifts had also increased. Not significantly, but all across the board. That''s when I began to have my doubts. Was this the result of an overzealous foreman driving up productivity in spite of their workers'' wellbeing just to score some brownie points with us? It wouldn''t have been the first time. We only had so much time and resources and more land and settlements than we could deal with at one specific time. Many had tried to harbor sympathy from us so we may decide to help them next, only to find themselves slapped on the forehead with a strongly worded warning letter with their name on it.


    It was still odd, though. Wysteria was a small town, barely over a couple thousand citizens. Unless we were missing something, I doubted a single employer could garner such results overnight. Perhaps there''d been a town council meeting? Something agreed to beforehand by the citizens themselves? Whatever the case, even then it didn''t become a priority for us. I told one of my coworkers to keep monitoring the daily statistics and to inquire on the matter through the SRP if the spike continued to grow.


    "The SRP?"


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    State Radio Program. This was before the boom of the net, you understand. It was even before we turned the Lavender tower into the second most powerful and far-reaching radio-communication hub on the planet. Before you could contact anyone from anywhere at any time you wanted without any kind of trouble.


    Back then, we had a limited number of state-sanctioned radio lines. Cities like Celadon, Vermillion and Saffron counted with a few dozen each, but Wysteria? We had a single line. Old, barely functioning. It was connected to¡­ well you wouldn''t call it exactly an embassy but the idea wasn''t much different. It was run by one of our own. Their job was to stay on the other end of the line every day until we decided to contact them, which we rarely did. In the odd case, however, they would be tasked to connect us with anyone we desired from Wysteria, be it the mayor or¡­ fucking, I don''t know, anyone.


    It was a quiet, shitty job. The kind you force upon people you want out of your way. I daresay that post served more as a punishment than a communications line. The man that worked there¡­ I didn''t know him very well, but he''d apparently stepped on the wrong toes when he''d worked as a congressman''s assistant, and for his transgressions he''d been transferred there, to Wysteria.


    I don''t think anyone could''ve known that transfer might as well have been a death sentence.


    "Was that man the one and only recorded victim of the Wysteria incident?"


    [Lorelei shifts uncomfortably in her seat, folding one leg over the other, fingers starting to tap strongly against the wood of the table.


    Cygnus, her Slowbro, approaches with a wide smile and a couple of objects in his hands. Lorelei places the ashtray atop the table and lights the cigarette in an offhanded manner, taking a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the first drag. After exhaling, she smiles down at her companion and pets his head affectionately.


    The Slowbro stays with us for the rest of the interview.]


    I still remember it as though it''d been yesterday.


    We''d received a troubling sign the night before. Unexpectedly, the productivity rate of Wysteria had actually gone down considerably during the following days, yet the overtime had continued to increase. Now we had a reason to worry. I told Reshi ¨Cour radio communications chief¨C to connect with our post at Wysteria and have him inquire on what the hell was going on over there.


    "Did you receive a response?"


    Yes, although I didn''t become aware of it until almost the end of my shift. The response Reshi had received had been troubling, though apparently not enough to warrant bothering me with it. Our post at Wysteria had informed us that there was something¡­ odd happening around town. He didn''t go into detail, maybe because he didn''t know how to put it into words or because he thought we wouldn''t take him seriously. All he said was ''I''ve got a bad feeling, is all''.


    "Yet you weren''t notified of this."


    Not right away. Reshi told him to contact the Mayor regardless and that was that until later that night. I remember it was late. A couple hours past the end of my shift, though back then that was pretty common. I''d turned off the light to my office and was walking down the corridor when Reshi came looking for me.


    Even past the exhaustion and the liters of coffee running through my bloodstream, the discomfort in his face was hard to miss. He looked¡­ rattled. That''s the first thing that let me know something was wrong. Reshi''s job was to listen to the feedback of every single state-sanctioned radio line, most of them manned by people that were really mad and impatient at us. The man had skin as thick as an Onix. And yet¡­


    He told me we''d just gotten a reply from our post in Wysteria. Apparently¡­ and this is where I remember him shaking his head and laughing, like he could barely believe what he was about to say. Apparently, the mayor had told our representative to relay the following message to me specifically.


    ''Keep your nose out of what doesn''t concern you. We ask nothing of your kin, so take nothing from us.''


    [Lorelei leans back into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.]


    Can you believe it? As a response it didn''t even make sense, at least not to the inquiry we''d sent, but as a statement¡­ that last line especially. You should''ve seen my face when I heard it.


    [She probably expects me to ask about it, but after I don''t she lets out a sigh and continues]


    This is probably the point where you and a lot more people will start blaming us for what happened, like many have done before. If we''d acted before¡­ if we''d been attentive enough to connect the dots between this strange phenomena and the many more that had occurred before throughout the town''s history¡­


    But like I said, we couldn''t have seen it coming. We simply weren''t prepared for that.


    At that point, when I heard that, I was more irritated than panicked. The phrase¡­ that was probably just a coincidence. But to have to deal with something like this, atop everything else going on¡­ it was less than welcome, to put it in the most polite terms possible.


    I told Reshi to stand by, to tell our post that he should try to contact the Mayor again, this time informing him that Lorelei wanted to speak with him personally. Regardless, I said we should probably send a small team to Wysteria tomorrow. It was a waste of both men and time, but at that point even I could see that there was something wrong, and I wanted eyes on the ground no matter what.


    I¡­ didn''t get much sleep that night. My mind kept going over that message the Mayor wanted relayed to me. Why me specifically? I mean, I knew the answer, but I refused to accept it. That last line¡­


    The call arrived an hour or two before dawn. Emergency beacon. I was out of the bed by the second beep and I made it to the office only a few minutes after. One of the perks of renting so close to work, I suppose. There weren''t many of us there, hell my boss said he''d take half an hour to arrive, but it was still chaos. Over what? Well¡­ no one seemed to know exactly.


    The only thing we knew for sure was that something had happened over at Wysteria.


    I went to Reshi first. He was leaning over the radio with this frantic, worried look in his eyes that I''d only seen a few times. I can''t connect, he told me. Line seems dead and our post there hasn''t answered in¨C


    That''s when we heard the beep. A second after, the green light went live, announcing that the Wysteria line had come back online. I didn''t need to tell Reshi what to do. He hooked his headphones on and asked our post what the hell was going on. Give me your status! he yelled. We''re ready to head over, just tell us what''s going¡­!


    And all of a sudden, he stopped talking. I can still picture it perfectly when I close my eyes. His face going pale, mouth hanging, eyes shooting wide open, the most primal kind of terror flashing through them. I repeat; Reshi was no spring Torchic. The things he must''ve heard during the war, the desperate cries on the other side of the line¡­ if that hadn''t broken him, then nothing else could, right?


    Well, I was wrong. To this day I do not know what he heard on the other side of that line. After a few seconds he simply took off his headphones. Slowly, calmly. Then he took in a deep breath and reached for the pistol in his holster.


    [Lorelei swallows. The cigarette crinkles in her fingers.]


    I was too slow to stop him. There was the boom of a gunshot and his brains splattered into the wall behind him. A second after, the line went dead again, and it never came back online.


    [Lorelei takes her time wiping the ash from the cigarette''s tip into the tray, eyes hidden by the gleam of her glasses. Suddenly, she looks very exhausted. And I fear it has nothing to do with her cold.]


    Fifteen minutes later, I and an entire platoon of League trainers landed in the middle of Wysteria. We found no living soul anywhere.


    "Was there any sign of where the people might have gone?"


    Nothing concrete. There were signs, of course. Most of the doors in the houses were wide open and fresh footprints could be seen on almost all the streets. But they clearly hadn''t gone in a single direction. Judging from what we learned later through rigorous investigation, it seems the people of Wysteria simply left their houses and then¡­ left the town. It didn''t matter through where. All possible exits through the town''s border looked like they''d been used.


    "Yet none of them were ever found on the outskirts surrounding Wysteria."


    Nor anywhere, for that matter.


    And it was like that no matter where we looked. Every Pokemon an person in every house or street¡­ it''s like they walked just outside of town and then vanished into the air overnight.


    "It must have been incredibly unsettling. Being the first people who saw it¡­"


    It is literally impossible to describe the subtle, permeating terror we all surely felt as we moved through the city, looking for any evidence of life. The sun hadn''t come up yet. Minutes felt like hours. None of us wanted to separate from the group. And I didn''t order them to, of course. Part of me feels like if I''d done so¡­ if any of us had left the security of the group¡­ they would''ve vanished in much the same way everyone in Wysteria had done.


    I try to put it behind me. To scoff at it and choose to see it as one of those paranormal things that you simply can''t try to explain. I have a job to do. Grounded, realistic problems to fret over. And yet¡­


    Some nights I rouse awake, covered in cold sweat after dreaming of that impossible, that unnatural silence and calm we felt that night as we walked through that ghost town. But most of all¡­ I dream of the one thing we did find.


    "Your post, yes?"


    We found his remains outside the city hall. I don''t think I¡­ processed what I was seeing until one of the others accompanying me fell on his ass and let out a scream of terror. Our Pokemon were a mess too. All of them had seen blood and carnage but something about what we found¡­ the sheer sense of wrongness that exuded from it¡­


    His body had been¡­ chopped up. Roughly. His remains had been left there in a pattern that only I could recognize, and the message written in blood above it, on the walls surrounding the door leading to the city hall¡­


    [Lorelei clears her throat, and as she recites the message her voice quivers ever so slightly.]


    ''We ask nothing from your kin, so take nothing from us. Forget not the pillars which support the ground you stand on.''


    To most people, that might''ve read like a threat. But¡­ no. It was a message. A message written there specifically for me.


    Have you ever heard of the Tanoby Ruins incident?


    [I shake my head, and Lorelei seems disappointed that she''ll have to explain it now.]


    It happened when I was five. The place I''m from, the Sevii islands¡­ you have to understand that both geographically and culturally, they were disconnected from Kanto as a whole, even if we were all part of the same region. There''s¡­ a divide. You can''t just annex an entire archipelago after thousands of years of freedom and expect them to adapt to your way of doing things immediately.


    This happened shortly after the first draft of the Right to Labor amendment was given a green light. Of course, since the Sevii islands were technically part of Kanto, it applied there as well. All throughout the islands, worker unions were dismantled overnight and mainland Kantan representatives were sent all over to oversee our labor.


    [She scoffs indignantly.]


    You can guess how well that went. You have to understand, we were¡­ no, we still are a very united people. But we were also peaceful and ¨Cif I must admit it¨C somewhat meek. There were protests. Riots even. But things never escalated much more than that¡­ until the incident with the ruins, of course.


    I won''t waste your time with the rich history of the Tanoby Ruins. All you need to know is that them, and all of Seven Island, had been left mostly untouched by us for hundreds of years, and now these mainland scumbags wanted to rush in and stripe the island and the ruins bare for all they were worth.


    The riots intensified. Workers rose up and tried to quit or protest any way they could, but they were denied at every turn. Those who spoke up, those who tried to hold true to our culture''s ideology were exploited and punished both through overwork and through pay-cuts. My father was one of those. He held out until the very end, and then¡­


    It happened a short distance from the ruins themselves. The mainland representative had gathered all the workers who were supposed to mine the rich minerals of the ruins, but refused to. Those were the most adamant of the protesters. And this fucking moron decided that the best thing to do was to threaten and belittle them. He told them that the mainland would not stand for the idiotic ''traditions'' of a bunch of islander hicks. He said that if they continued to refuse working, he''d make sure none of them would ever be hired by any other Kantan company for as long as he lived.


    Things escalated from there. There were shouts, insults, and then pushes. At one point the mainland representative must have lost it because he actually grabbed a metal pipe from the room and swung at one of the men who''d just pushed him. Blood was shed. That, apparently, was the point at which my people''s patience stopped stretching, and finally broke.


    There are many versions of what happened, but all of them have basically the same gist. The representative was killed. Butchered with spades and axes and whatever other tools the workers had at their disposal. His body, or the parts that remained of it, were left there in the same pattern as those of that poor man in Wysteria, many years later. And above, the same message was left in blood.


    ''We ask nothing from your kin, so take nothing from us. Forget not the pillars which support the ground you stand on.''


    [A tiny smile forms on her lips.]


    The workers of the Sevii islands never had to worry about mainland exploitation ever again. A few weeks after the incident, unions began to reform. The mainland technically had the power to disband them whenever they wanted¡­ and yet they never did.


    They say some pieces were missing from the body. They say that every one of the workers took a bone from the bastard that had exploited them for so long and kept it for themselves, passing them down their family through various generations. I never believed that when I was young. After all, my father never passed anything to me when I came of age, nor when he was lying on his deathbed.


    But I believe it now. Because the body of that man¡­ the one we found in Wysteria¡­ pieces were missing of him, too.


    [Lorelei seems to deflate, leaning back against her chair, eyes closing tight for a moment.]


    The question I always go back to is¡­ why me? Was it because I was the first to notice something was wrong? The first to try to interfere? But even so, the situation was absolutely nothing like that between the mainland and the island workers back then. That had been a very clear message. ''We support the ground you stand on. You are not as powerful as you think. If you push us enough, be assured that power and money will not be able to save you from the wrath of the common man''.


    Does that sound like the situation between Wysteria and us? Of course not! So why emulate that incident in an attempt to get at me? Maybe they didn''t need a reason. Maybe they just wanted to fuck with my head.


    Maybe one of the people responsible for what happened at Wysteria really fucking hated me and my ideology.


    If so, I can now say that the feeling is mutual.


    "Nothing else was ever found around town, then?"


    Nothing substantial, no.


    "And about the evidence we provided¡­"


    I''ve sent people to investigate the perimeter of the town ever since, but if there are any secret entrances to an underground tunnel, then none of my experts have been able to find them. I''m sorry.


    "That''s¡­ okay. Thank you for indulging us anyway. I''m aware this must have been difficult to recall once more."


    [Lorelei sighs, her head moving in what could almost be considered a nod. By the time she lights another cigarette, she''s not looking at me anymore, but at the distance past the window behind me.]


    You can try to atone, to make things better, all your life. But I feel like at the end, just before you take your last breath, the exact same question plays out in your mind, whether you''re an Elite Four member, an exploited worker or one of the victims of the Wysteria incident.


    Why me? Why now?


    <hr>


    I''d seen the reports of the incident of course, many times over, but having such a detailed perspective on it¡­ this interview is truly invaluable. Lorelei might be the only person in the world who had this information.


    Unfortunately, I haven''t been able to contact her again. She''s apparently taken some time off from her congress duties for ''personal reasons''. Oh well.


    What worries me more is not Lorelei''s tale itself, but the fact that no matter how hard they looked, the League was not able to find any of the entrances to that underground tunnel. Even if past me surely gave them the exact location of that warehouse. I''m not ready to discount the possibility that Lorelei might have lied but¡­ if she didn''t, then this makes things a lot more difficult.


    In any case, I''ve gotten my laptop back from IT, reason why I was able to post this. Unfortunately, they weren''t able to recover any files. Apparently it''s not the same as if they were deleted and it''s impossible to get them back if the were transferred. I still don''t know why it took them more than a week to realize that, and yet another to call me back.


    Fucking IT people.


    Also this might just be my constant paranoia, but ever since I went back to that hotel to look for clues ¨Cwhich was a dud, as neither Marie''s Alakazam nor anything else was still there¨C I''ve felt¡­ eyes on me. Subtle, yet always there. Just in case I''ve bought a small tape recorder which I''m keeping with me at all times. If anything happens, you''ll know.


    And finally, regarding my living situation, I''m still working for Ivy, the old woman with the archival office. Work has been¡­ exhausting. Especially since I use every ounce of free time to try to pursue the truth, but I can''t really complain, now can I? And as Lorelei just stated, asking ''Why me?'' won''t do me any good.


    I''m alive, and I can still investigate. That is all that matters.


    I''ll try to do some more investigating regarding the other two interviews before I post them. Until then,


    Tulip Glasslip.

 Fragment #4: [REDACTED]

    Greetings, my¡­ or, well. Tulip''s dear readers, I suppose.


    I sincerely hope the past few weeks have been treating you well.


    You know, if I were Tulip, I''d ask you all¡­ what does it feel? To read this from the outside, I mean. Is it fun? Exhilarating? Worrying? Do any of you feel like a Braviary circling around a wounded Salandit as it slowly bleeds out?


    If so, know that you are not alone. Personally I am a huge fan of Tulip''s investigation, though not because I have any interest in these mysteries, mind you. I simply enjoy the sight of a rabid Poochyena running full speed to gnaw at the legs of those I despise. As such, I was saddened to see that no new entr¡­ whoops, sorry. No new fragments (wouldn''t want to misrepresent our good friend Tulip, now would we?) have been posted recently, so I thought we should fix that.


    Unfortunately, Tulip is somewhat¡­ incapacitated at the moment. But fear not, for I am here for you, my adorable little voyeurs.


    I suppose I could wait until Tulip wakes up and does this on her own but¡­ oh, the temptation! When will I get an opportunity like this again? Besides, a breath of fresh air can do nothing but good to her little project.


    With that said, henceforth is my transcript of the latest of the tapes from Tulip''s recorder.


    Enjoy.


    <hr>


    [The sound of keys being rapidly pressed fills the small room. There are very few interruptions. Once or twice, Tulip leans back and stretches on her chair, or she takes a sip of something quite a bit spicier than water, if the way she grunts as the liquid passes her throat is any indication.


    Twice, the tape cuts off. Not quietly, no, but with a burst of static which I''m glad I''m transcribing, as I would not want the readers'' ears to be damaged. The first time, it comes back to the same sound; Tulip typing in her notebook. The second time, however, is different.


    Hurried, careless stomps. A curtain being pulled slightly. The sound of Tulip''s thin breathing as she tries to make as little noise as possible. Panic and anxiety are clear as crystal in her voice as she whispers.]


    "A-I think, I think I¡­ yeah. I heard something. There was a shuffle at first and I¨CI thought maybe¡­ but no, I definitely heard something. I-is it¡­?"


    [Tulip holds her breath, though she can be heard looking around, the curtain creaking ever so slightly.]


    "That¡­ that shape over there. It''s either a person or¡­ a pile of leaves? Ugh, I''ve been staring at the screen for so long that I can''t see shit now when it''s so dark outside. Come on¡­ Come on, move. I ain''t watching you. Just move once so I can¨C"


    [The recording jumps again, much like dear Tulip herself, if the sound of a window being opened followed by a rush of air and a sudden thump are any indication. She wastes no time, rushing forward as fast as she can. In the distance, the sound of someone cursing can be heard. Tulip''s ragged breathing resonates alongside the stomping of her shoes against the dirt, until finally, she jumps.]


    Argh!


    [There''s a grunt, followed by a loud thump as both bodies collide with the ground.]


    "Got you, you little¨C!"


    W-wait, I¨C!


    [The man''s voice stops abruptly as Tulip pushes him against the ground, all air leaving his lungs as the back of his head connects with the ground again. What follows is¡­ well, it sounds like a rather one-sided struggle. Both Tulip and the man stammer and spit curses as they fight for control, until finally, a plastic click is heard.]


    W-what was that? Did you just handcu¨CUG-AGH!


    [The sharp, unmistakable sound of a knife being pressed against skin is heard. A thin whimper leaves the man''s mouth.]


    "Struggle or scream and I''ll slice your throat open. I''m not fucking around."


    Gh¡­ wait, please. I''m not¡­ I wasn''t¨C


    "What, you weren''t spying on me from outside my window? Is that what you''re gonna say?"


    I-it''s not what you think. Ah-I-I was just¡­ look, listen I¨C


    [Another whimper, most likely caused by miss Tulip pressing her knife more strongly against the man''s throat.]


    "Shut up. You''re going to start talking for me now, got it?"


    T-those are two contradictory comm¨CAGRH!


    "Don''t. Fuck with me. Next time you try to act smart¨C"


    What, you''re gonna slice my neck open? S-spill my blood all over the outside of your flat? What good''s that gonna do to you?


    "¡­"


    Shit, sorry. Sorry, I¡­ please, don''t hurt me. Ah-I swear I wasn''t trying to¡­ I mean I was but¨C


    "You''ve been following me for the past few weeks, haven''t you?"


    I-I¡­


    "Tell me the truth."


    Y-yes! Yes, I was. How''d you¡­?


    "I''m very good at feeling other people''s eyes on my back. Now¡­ Why were you following me? Are you with¡­?"


    [There''s a short pause, in which only their breathing can be heard.]


    "N-no¡­ you''re not with the Insitute. H-how¡­ how''d I know that? I¡­"


    Er¡­ are you okay?


    "¡­Yes. It''s nothing, shut up."


    R-righto.


    "Answer the previous question."


    Well¡­ I mean¡­ d''you not remember me?


    "Why would I¨C?"


    [There''s a very poignant pause. A moment after, a sharp inhalation leaves Tulip''s mouth]


    "It''s you. The guy¡­ the weird Galarian guy that I got hired over. Lynne, right?"


    A-ah. Well I''m¡­ flattered that you remembered my name but that''s¡­ that wasn''t what I was hoping to hear.


    "What¨C?"


    Okay, look, I''ll just throw it out there. Okay? I''m sure you''ll laugh and then probably slit my throat open but I''ll just¡­ I''ll just ask.


    [Lynne inhales in a way he probably believes makes him sound brave and confident.]


    Have you, by any chance¡­ lost all memories of the last two years?


    [The silence that stretches past the tail-end of Lynne''s question is cold, tense and drawn-out to a delicious degree, at least to one with ears such as mine. Then, suddenly, like waking from a dream, Tulip speaks. The danger in her voice is enough to make a girl''s heart flutter.]


    "We''re going back inside my apartment. I''m going to sit you down and you''re going to explain yourself in detail. Are we clear?"


    Yes! Yes, we''re clear. Just, er¨Cwell, I might need a lil'' help to stand up. Didn''t¡­ expect you to have zip-ties so at the ready, ha. O-or a knife. Well no, a-actually, you do look like the kind of girl who''d have a knife so I guess I just didn''t read you rig¨CGHK!


    "Agh, come on, big boy. Use your legs to push yourself up, I can''t lift you all by myself."


    W-would probably be easier if you sheathed the knife.


    "No. Hurry up."


    Alright then.


    [What follows is an awkward, drawn-out silence as Tulip drags Lynne back to her apartment, sits him down and ¨Cjudging by the plastic clinking noise¨C adjusts the zip-ties so that he is handcuffed to the chair itself. Always so diligent. So prepared. There is truly nothing more stunning than a woman who is both attracted to danger yet never takes any chances with it. Such a tease.


    But I suppose we are getting away from the point.]


    I-I really feel like this is unnecessary. What am I gonna do, run away with my hands tied behind my back? How would I open the door?


    [Tulip doesn''t reply, too busy pouring herself a glass of something that sure doesn''t sound like water.]


    Well¡­ whatever. Guess I can deal with it for the time being. Nice flat by the way. Can''t¡­ see much of it, with how dark it is. But¡­ you really like books, huh. A Petal Dyed in Black by Draccus Lochees, huh? Sounds like a fun read.


    [I can confirm that Tulip does indeed have great taste in reading material. And I mean that in more ways than one.]


    How''d you get so many books anyway? It''s been like, what¡­ a month?


    "You have to know where to search for them."


    Oh. I¡­ wouldn''t know. I don''t read much besides cooking books and even then¡­


    [A soft thump echoes as Tulip places the glass and tape recorder upon the table. The chair creaks as she leans back and sighs tiredly.]


    "Alright. Spit it out."


    ¡­Not one for small talk, huh.


    "¡­"


    Right, right. Guess I should start from the¡­ beginning? Though I don''t know h¨C


    "How do you know me?"


    [It''s faint, but there''s a very slight burst of static as Tulip asks that question. For a few seconds after, Lynne mumbles, as though confused.]


    Back when we¡­ saw each other in Ivy''s office. When you got hired over me. I mean, it was kinda weird at first, I couldn''t get the notion out of my head that you looked¡­ familiar? I''m¡­ sorry if you noticed some odd looks from me.


    "I did. Though the feeling was not mutual; you did not look familiar to me."


    Well that''s¡­ weird. ''Cause after I thought that back then you¡­ I mean Ivy asked for your name and you looked all panicked for a second. And then you said¡­ you called yourself Tulip. Tulip Glasslip. I''m sure if you hadn''t been busy looking at Ivy you would''ve noticed the face I made at that.


    "You knew my name? From where?"


    It''s in my pocket. I could reach it if you¡­


    "No need. I''ll get it."


    [Shuffles of movement can be heard as Tulip approaches Lynne and takes out something from one of his pockets. Strangely enough, it makes absolutely no sound as she moves it around in her hands.]


    "Is this¡­ an orb? Looks like a big piece of amber¡­"


    There''s a note stuck to it. That''s how I¡­ knew.


    [Tulip turns the orb over, and though she mumbles the words to herself, the tape recorder somehow catches her whispers perfectly.]


    "No matter what you do, no matter what you hear¡­ protect this at all costs. If I get killed, it all falls on you. Take this to the heart of the Institute and say the words. You''re the only one I can trust with this, Lyn. Signed¡­ Tulip."


    [A few seconds of silence stretch into something that feels a lot longer, as though Tulip''s held breath were stopping time itself. After a few moments she walks back to her chair, box still in hand, and sits as though her body were heavier than usual.]


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    I found it in my pocket when I woke up, a few weeks ago. I was¡­ all alone in the middle of the woods. Had nothing but my clothes, a backpack with a laptop and a few other things and¡­ that. That orb and the note with your name on it.


    "So when you heard my name¡­"


    I''m not the kinda man that believes in coincidences. But I''m also really¡­ really shy, ha, so¡­ I lost my chance to ask you that day. And I mean, how would I have approached the subject? Oh hi, miss, I''m terribly sorry to bother you but is this your creepy and ominous orb?


    Besides, now I knew your full name at least. Or¡­ I thought I did. Later that day I looked you up online but all I found was¡­


    "My website. My entries."


    ¡­Yes. At first I thought I must''ve mistaken it for something else, maybe you''d lied in the job interview and said the name of your favorite spooky author? All these entries, these weird things I was reading¡­ I hope it doesn''t offend you that I thought it was all some very elaborate dramatic fiction. But then... I got to the last one. The¡­ fragment, I think you called it.


    "Of course. The one in which I openly proclaimed my current situation. You saw that and realized that the girl you met earlier really was me."


    Yeah. It was terrifying.


    "¡­"


    Come on, you know what I mean. Before I could at least, I don''t know, be ignorant and happy in my confusion. Maybe I''d hit my head somewhere. Maybe there was some perfectly rational explanation for my memory loss. I''d been clinging to that hope, but then¡­


    Well, you know.


    "Not really. It''s been a long time since I believed in any kind of coincidence. Occam''s Razor is not a concept which applies to me. Nor you, now that you''ve gotten enrolled in all this."


    Shite¡­ is it really necessary to say that so bluntly? You know it''s not like I''m having the time of my life here. At least¨Cat least you''re used to all this. I''m just¡­ scared out of my bloody mind here. I don''t wanna think about¨C


    "Oh cry me a river."


    Ei!


    "Unless you''re motivated by spite, your feelings don''t matter one bit in this. It won''t do you any good to take this one step at a time. You either take a full plunge into the reality of the situation you''re in or you let yourself wide open for Them to find you."


    R-right, easy for you to say. What¡­ I mean who''s even Them anyway? These people you and that old lady were talking about, these Institute folk. I mean, I know. I read your entries or whatever. But I don''t¨CI mean¡­ I''d never even heard of this stuff until now! I''m from Wedgehurst for crying out loud, I''ve never even been to Kanto until now. This has nothing to do with me!


    "It does now. The more you keep denying it¨C!"


    I''m not denying anything, I''m just¡­ Agh!


    I''m just¡­ I don''t know what to do. I t-tried contacting my family online and via payphone a few times but I just can''t reach''em. There''s not a missing person report of me either. And my job¡­ I mean I''m s-sure I''ve been fired to hell and back by now but still¡­


    "About that. What was your line of work?"


    Yeah there, see! You only care about how I can be useful to you, you don''t give a shite that I''m¨C


    "Save your theatrics for the circus and answer the fucking question, please."


    [Lynne makes a noise halfway between a snort and a growl. You can almost hear his anger in the ensuing silence.]


    ¡­ I worked at the Pokelab. Junior assistant.


    "¡­"


    What? What''s with that face?


    "Nothing. You just look¡­ older than the usual lab assistants I''ve heard of."


    I''m a late bloomer, what do you want from me?


    [Tulip doesn''t answer right away. The wood of the chair creaks as she leans back and, in what sounds like a single gulp, she downs the rest of her drink and lets out a half satisfied, half exhausted sigh.


    It''s a few more seconds until she finally speaks again.]


    "A lab assistant, eh? Well, it could be worse. I''m sure you''ll come in useful in some way."


    Huh? What do you mean?


    "What do you think?"


    A-are you¡­?


    "I''m not too fond on the idea of working with someone else, especially after how my last team-up ended. But I can''t just let you go. For one, you might still be lying."


    You know I''m not¨C


    "On the other hand, if you have some important information that you''re not recalling right now, letting you go might mean serving you to the Institute in a silver platter. I''m a practical woman. I''ll use every tool at my disposal to find and destroy them, even if it''s a pain in the ass."


    Wh¨Chey, hold on a sec. First off, you keep talking like I''m some unwanted Wooloo that rolled into your flat. What about the orb, eh!? Remember that whole ''I trust you, Lyn'' thing you wrote? And second thing¡­ d-destroy them? You''re really trying to¡­?


    "Let me stop you right there."


    [Once again, Tulip''s voice brings absolute silence with it. It is as though no one else in the world could possibly be speaking at the same time she does. Lynne certainly feels it, judging by his tiny gasp and ensuing silence.]


    "Firstly, that note could have easily been falsified. Either by you or someone else. The Institute has someone capable of erasing both our memories with ease and god knows what else. I''d have to be a fucking moron to trust someone coming to me out of nowhere and giving me a note with ''Hey, definitely go do this thing!'' written on it.


    But even if¡­ even if what that note says is true. Even if you and I worked together in the past for long enough that I ended up trusting you so completely¡­ that is past Tulip''s mistake, not mine."


    ¡­Mistake?


    "Which brings me to your second point. Yes, I absolutely do mean to find every single person related to the Institute and kill them with any and all tools I might have at my disposal. And I know that the only way to achieve that is to go at them with nothing to lose on my side. That includes relationships of any kind with anyone or anything. An anchor to reel you back¡­ that''s how they get you. That''s how they got ME the first time.


    "So no, I am not making that mistake again. I''m sorry, but I''m simply going to use you for my own needs and nothing else. If what you''re expecting is any kind of friendship or camaraderie then you''re better off walking out that door and joining THEIR ranks. I''m sure you''d have a blast hunting me down, but I assure you¡­ I will not go down that easily."


    [Another even longer silence stretches between them for almost half a minute, only this time it feels more¡­ deflated than last time, if you''d pardon the use of such a silly word.]


    ¡­


    "Well. Are you going to say something? What''s with that face?"


    ¡­No. No, I was just¡­ thinking. You''re probably right.


    "Hm?"


    About the note. It''s¡­ probably falsified, like you said.


    After hearing what you just said¡­ I don''t think any past me could''ve made friends or earned the trust of someone like you.


    "If that''s meant to be an insult, I''m afraid you''ve landed a bit short. Sorry, but I''m not here to make friends. I won''t let you or anyone else become my weakness."


    ¡­Yeah. Maybe that''s for the best, for both of us.


    "Then¡­"


    Sure. I¡­ don''t wanna believe that any of this is real or that I got roped into something this crazy. But like you said¡­ no use denying reality. You¡­ know things, clearly. You''re not going in blind into all this or¡­ w-well I certainly hope you aren''t.


    "Jury''s still out on that one, I''m afraid. But yes, I am your best chance at survival at the moment, unfortunately."


    Hell¡­ just listening to that is depressing enough.


    Well¡­ I guess I can help you, as long as you promise to help me find a way out of all this mess. Before I was thinking of just getting a plane ticket and going back to Galar but t-that doesn''t sound like a good idea for now, so¡­


    Sure. Sure, why not. I help you and you help me and in the meantime we can glare at each other all we want. Yeah, like that. You''re really good at it.


    "I was considering taking the zip-ties off before you said that."


    Oh don''t be such a dick. Come on, my wrists are getting scrapped something ugly.


    "Hm."


    [Steps are heard as Tulip walks to the other side of the table, followed by a sharp   *slick*   of a switchblade being unsheathed. The serrating of plastic drowns out the ensuing silence between them.]


    "You know, you''re taking all this surprisingly well."


    Oh no, I''m¡­ freaking out plenty on the inside, I assure you. I just¡­ I guess I''m good at hiding it?


    "That might come in handy."


    Yeah well, you jumping at me with a knife and that crazed look on your face did wonders at desensitizing me before.


    "Consider it a lesson. Next time you might want to think twice about stalking someone as dangerous and paranoid as me."


    [Lynne sighs.]


    A-I guess I could''ve just come talk to you but¡­ no offense but you look like a very scary lady. Agh. I should''ve known my social anxiety would almost get me killed one of these days.


    [Despite herself, Tulip can''t help but let out a low chuckle. Unfortunately¡­]


    "Wait¡­ what is that?"


    [¡­Such a wonderful sound is soon interrupted by another. Distant and faint. A dry, persistent crackle.]


    Huh? Why''d you stop?


    "Thought I''d seen¡­ There, past the curtains. Looks like there''s a bright light outside or¨C"


    W-wait. What''s that sound?


    "What?"


    [Lynne is the first to hear it. A sharp, attentive silence grows between the two as the distant sound of crackling flames gets ever closer. There''s a snap. A creaking of wood. Then, a loud, sharp roar as a small part of the floor beneath them breaks apart, letting through a tongue of flame.]


    A-AAH! WHAT IS¨C


    "SHIT!"


    FIRE! W-WH¨C


    [Tulip drags back the chair Lynne is handcuffed to and takes a quick step forward, toward the growing flames. The sound of slow, wooden sizzling can now be heard all over.]


    "T-the apartment below us is burning!"


    WHAT!?


    "Motherfucker! It''s them! They did this!"


    What are you¨C


    "And YOU led them here! You led them to me!"


    W-wa¡­ H-HEY, HOLD ON! D-don''t¡­!


    [Through the sizzling and the smoke rising from the floorboards, the desperate dragging of a chair can be heard. Tulip approaches quickly, stomping on the floor.]


    P-please don''t¡­ d-don''t stab me, I¡­


    "HAAGH!"


    [Tulip''s scream echoes as she brings her knife down with as much strength as she can muster. There is a moment of resistance, and then a plastic snap. The zip-ties fall to the smoking floor, torn, and it takes Lynne a moment to realize what has happened, and to be able to stand up.]


    I¡­ I thought you''d¡­


    "Come on, we have to leave. There''s a fire exit in the back. I''m sure it won''t matter since they probably have the place surrounded but¡­"


    I-I¡­


    "Hurry the fuck up! Here, go!"


    [Tulip pushes Lynne toward the back with as much force as she can, almost toppling him toward the ground. He stammers for a moment before finding his voice again.]


    But y-you¡­


    "I''ll be right behind you! I just gotta get my things; get going!"


    [Lynne stammers a string of unintelligible mumbles and apologies as he hurries over toward the back door, until finally he can be heard no more over the sound of the flames slowly rising up the floorboards.]


    "Come on, come on! Recorder, notebook¡­ Where the fuck is my notepad!?"


    [Tulip''s hurried, desperate running inside her soon-to-be burning apartment is mostly drowned out by the creaking of the wood under her. A few times, pieces of floor break from under her feet. She screams and jumps over, barely avoiding falling into the inferno below.]


    "Come on¡­ Not like this¡­"


    [There''s a rustle of fabric as she shoves as many things as she can find into her backpack. The sound gets a bit muffled, as the recorder is one of said things.]


    "You''re not gonna get me like this you pieces of shit¡­"


    [Unfortunately, in all her hurry and panic, there is one sound she fails to notice. On the other side of the room, behind the door leading to the fire exit, something¡­ shifts. Like smoke rising from a cold flame. Like a drop of ink falling into a glass of water. A second after, the sound of Lynne yelling at her to hurry can no longer be heard.]


    "Here! Shit, come on¡­"


    [Just in time, Tulip makes a sprint for the back of the apartment as the ground begins to crumble from under her. She makes one final jump and slams into the door with the entire weight of her body, opening it instantly and falling down the other side.


    Had she not been in such a hurry, perhaps she would have opened the door beforehand, to check if it lead to the same place as it did before.


    Alas¡­]


    "Agh! Ghk¡­ shit¡­ Lynne, come on! Come help me u¨C"


    [Her voice freezes as she rises to her knees, looks up and realizes the place she''s fallen into is not the fire exit outside of her apartment. It''s too dark. Too cold. Quickly, she turns her head around but only sees as the portal of smoke closes behind her, and instantly the sound and brightness of the flames vanish.


    She keeps staring at the empty space of the room she''s now in, as though in trance. It takes a few moments for her to realize there is someone else in the room with her.


    Though, because I am an educated host, she does not need to wait for me to introduce myself.]


    It''s¡­ been a while, hasn''t it, Tulip?


    [She doesn''t jump. Doesn''t scream or tries to fight or run away. She simply gulps and looks back at me with the resigned, furious expression of a Rattata cornered by a vicious Ekans, yet one who is determined to struggle until the very end. Beautiful, if I do say so myself.


    Then again, I might simply have a type.]


    "Are you with the institute? A-are you¡­ one of them?"


    Hm. That is a difficult question. Though regardless, I''m disappointed that a little amnesia was enough to erase me from your memory. I''ve always assumed I was a hard woman to forget.


    "Don''t¡­ don''t fucking toy with me. Of course I don''t know who you are; you know very well th¨Ctha¡­ that¡­"


    [Tulip purses her lips and blinks repeatedly, as though something behind her eyes were itching.]


    "Y-you¡­"


    Yes?


    "You''re¡­ Shadi. Shadi Dawn. B-but¡­ How did I¡­?"


    That''s more like it. So your little experiment was a success, then. I''d been wondering¡­


    "I¡­ what? H-have we¡­ met before?"


    Indeed we have. Back when I agreed to our little deal. You would get an interview out of me and I would get to bask in the pleasantness of your company. It was a lovely evening.


    "I''m sure I don''t need to tell you this, but I don''t remember that. Nor do I have that interview with me."


    Yes, I assumed so. You needn''t worry about that anymore.


    [The look upon her face as I retrieve that familiar small notepad from my pocket is precious.]


    Previously, I hadn''t allowed you to publish this, as I''d wished to remain¡­ anonymous to certain individuals, so to speak. But unfortunately, things have changed. Right now I need you to possess this information more than I fear unwanted gazes focusing my way. Besides, with everything that''s going on in Sinnoh at the moment, I doubt dear Cynthia will have much time to come across your quaint little blog. I''m safe on that regard, at least.


    "What¡­ the fuck are you talking about?"


    Ah, nothing, nothing. I''ve said too much already. I was just supposed to get you out of the Insitute''s line of sight and give you this notepad, nothing more.


    "Get me out¡­ y-you''re not with the Institute, then?"


    As I said, that is a complicated question. But for the purposes of this little interaction, let''s say that no, I am not with them. You could say I''m your side, if you had a proclivity for generalizations.


    "What about Lynne? Did he¡­?"


    He escaped unharmed. I''ll happily make you a portal back to where he is once I''m done with you.


    [Sharp as ever, Tulip instantly picks up on the faint tone behind my last few words.]


    "Once¡­ you''re done with me?"


    [A smile forms on my lips.]


    I''m afraid I''m not a charity, Tulip. I do expect some form of compensation for saving you from the Fourth''s flames.


    "T-the Fourth!? Then she¡­ she was the one who¨C?"


    Indeed, though I''m sure you''ve suspected as much already. Fire is her specialty, after all. But I''m afraid we''re getting away from the point.


    [Tulip gulps and takes a step back defensively.]


    "What do you want from me, then?"


    [I don''t reply, for I don''t need to. The look on my eyes is enough to give Tulip an answer.]


    "N-no. Absolutely not."


    A Griseous Orb is not a thing to be lightly carried around.


    "I don''t care what this thing is, I am not giving it to you! It''s one of the only clues I have to¨C"


    That thing almost got you killed tonight.


    "W-what?"


    How do you think they found you? Granted, the Griseous Orb has unique qualities which usually shield all in its vicinity from being tracked¡­ from all but one person, that is. And unfortunately for you¡­


    "They work for the fucking Institute, don''t they."


    Right you are. The Seventh is not easily convinced to intervene in these matters, but when it is Alberich who gives out the order¡­


    [I do not need to finish the sentence. Unfortunately, even then Tulip does not seem keen on giving up her faint hope.]


    "S-still¡­ If there''s a chance this thing can¨C"


    [There''s a soft whisper of cloth against air as I raise my hand. Immediately, a murmur is heard, and Tulip gasps as though the air has been sucked from her lungs. A deaf thump reverberates through the room as she falls to her knees.]


    I''m afraid this isn''t a discussion.


    [Even as she falls into a heap on the floor, consciousness forcefully leaving her body, Tulip continues to struggle. She shakily drags herself a few inches forward, looking up at me with eyes full of terror and righteous, white hot anger.]


    Not to worry. When the time is right, I might let you burrow the Griseous orb again. But until then...


    [Tulip lets out a last, resentful grunt before she finally collapses, a deep, cold sleep overtaking her.]


    ¡­ I''ll happily hold on to it.


    <hr>


    And¡­that is all for now, I''m afraid.


    Fear not. Tulip is safe and sound, save from a few nasty nightmares she will soon wake up from. I''m sure she will resent me for writing this in her place but, as I said, I would be a fool not to take up such a fun opportunity when it is presented to me.


    And with that, unfortunately, I must bid all you wonderful readers¡­ adieu.


    Have fun out there. And as always, don''t forget to look behind your shoulders ;)

 Fragment #5: The False Stigma

    [A crackling burst of static is heard as the recording begins.


    Tulip sighs.]


    Hi, dear rear readers. Tulip Glasslip here.


    Before I go on with the rest of this, I''d like to say one thing.


    [Tulip inhales deeply. The device she''s recording on creaks against her forceful grip.]


    Fuck Shadi Dawn.


    [A man''s chuckle is heard from not too far away.]


    "That all you got to say on the matter?"


    ¡­I thought I told you not to interrupt me while I''m recording, Lynne.


    "You blokes back home should''ve seen how she''s been for the past week. Been pacing all over the place and cursing up a storm that girl who saved her."


    Lynne¡­


    "Oi, what did you say before? ''If there''s at least one thing I pride myself in, that''s being honest with my audience''".


    [Tulip grunts.]


    Nice to see you''ve actually been rereading my older entries. But if you please wouldn''t mind¡­


    "Right, right. I''ll go to my room; you finish talking to yourself and then we can think about dinner. Later, everyone."


    [Steps are heard, followed by a slam and the click of a door as Lynne leaves the room.


    Tulip takes a deep breath.]


    Mew above give me patience, because if you give me strength I''ll wring his neck like a towel.


    It certainly doesn''t help that I''ve been staying at his place these past few weeks. Can''t quite tell him to fuck off when he''s the one putting a roof above my head, as tempting as it would be. Besides, at least he''s a good cook. Got that going for him, if nothing else.


    [She clears her throat.]


    Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I''m sure many of you must be wondering why the prelude to today''s Fragment is voiced instead of written. The answer to that lies in today''s interview, so without further ado, let''s get to it.


    Enjoy:


    <hr>


    [I''ve only been sitting across from Shadi Dawn for a minute and I can already tell I should take whatever she says during this interview with a grain of salt.


    She rests her cheek on her left palm and looks at me with¡­ amusement, almost. Like a kid dying to open a present. The shape of her smile and the glint in her eyes are twisted in all the wrong ways, shadows falling upon her body in ways that shouldn''t be possible considering the room''s lighting.


    This woman is dangerous; I can tell that much. Were it not for the fact that she willingly offered to let herself be interviewed, I might''ve thought she was one of   them  . Her presence is as cold and oppressive as that of the two Stigmas I''ve met so far.


    I give her a look to signal that we should start, and she lets out a dreamy sigh.]


    Ah, to think I''d get to star in the famous Wysteria Files¡­ I''m a huge fan of your work, miss Tulip. And I must say, you''re even more striking in person than I could''ve possibly imagined.


    "I''d¡­ rather we keep this in the realm of our interview, and nothing else."


    But of course. I can see you''re already writing up a storm, capturing my every word on paper almost before they leave my mouth. I''d had my doubts, but¡­


    Ah, but that''s a matter for later. We''re here for my account of things, my¡­ experiences with the Institute and its Stigmas, you could say.


    [My reaction must be noticeable, judging by the self-satisfied look that crosses her face.]


    "You''re clearly not an ex-citizen of Wysteria, nor a Kantan citizen for that matter. How did someone from Sinnoh end up tangled in their web?"


    I don''t know if I''d have used that particular term, but I''ll let it pass for now.


    The answer is simple; I sought them out.


    "¡­Of course you did. Why?"


    What kind of question is that? Because I was taken by them as much as I''m now taken by you, Tulip. Though¡­ maybe we should dial it back a bit, start from the beginning. I assume you''re¡­ familiar with my sordid background?


    "I-yes. I looked you up as soon as you offered to let yourself be interviewed. You were a somewhat famous trainer back in Sinnoh, right?"


    Ouch. Somewhat?


    "And then, three years ago, you mysteriously vanished from the face of the planet. You''ve been presumed dead ever since."


    A bold assumption to make, although an understandable one.


    The reason for my absence and my desire to stay anonymous are a tale for another time, but in itself it is a good place to start.


    I was, like you say, a well-known trainer in the Sinnohan League challenge back then, as I''d always planned. As soon as I turned eighteen I knocked on Professor Rowan''s door and presented my impeccable diploma from Twinleaf''s trainer school. Five minutes later, I left Sandgem town with a Charmander, a Pokedex and a belt full of Pokeballs.


    Three months after that, I''d made it to the top of the annual Ace trainer rankings, six of eight Gym badges in my possession and a number of impressive achievements under my belt, not the least of which being the full dismantling of one of Jubilife''s most prolific criminal organizations, which specialized in espionage and assassination. My reputation got quite the boost from that alone, though I''d taken from them something a lot more useful than that.


    "That''s¡­ an impressive feat for an eighteen year-old girl. It sounds like you were a prodigy of sorts, though I''m guessing there''s a point in this story when everything starts going wrong?"


    Almost, but not quite. You see, what I failed to realize until it was too late was that everything was already wrong since the moment I''d started my journey. I was brilliant, yes, but maybe too na?ve for my own good.


    I cultivated myself and my image slowly, carefully, all the while doing everything in my power to show just how above every other trainer my age I was. Putting each piece in its place. Laying out the gameboard so that once I made my first and final move, all the dominoes would fall into place, and my enemy would lay defeated. Or¡­ so I thought.


    Just for the record, I didn''t miscalculate. I took everything into account. Studied the Champion''s team so extensively that even now I could recite every one of their strengths and weaknesses in my sleep. I crafted my own team appropriately. Through training, I pushed their physical and mental capabilities past their very limits, though never taking it so far that their affection for me would dwindle. By the time I finally set foot upon the Champion''s chambers, I was as assured of my victory as I was that the sun would rise the next day.


    ¡­And yet.


    [It''s only there for a moment. Shadi''s composed expression shakes ever so slightly, revealing underneath a frustration and bitterness sharp as steel. To some, it might look intimidating. However, as this is the first time she''s looked like an actual human being, it has the opposite effect on me.


    It''s clear that her poker face isn''t as good as she thinks.]


    You sure are writing a lot, considering I''m not saying anything.


    "If you want me to stop, you could always continue the story and finally get to the fucking point."


    Fair enough.


    I don''t need to tell you that I lost, seeing as Cynthia is still the Champion. Like I said¡­ I didn''t underestimate her. My strategy was flawless, its execution nothing short of perfect, but even then, even with the strongest, most flexible team Sinnoh had ever seen¡­


    I still remember the moment it happened. A final clash, both my Charizard and her Garchomp standing across from each other, time freezing as the impact of the other''s attack reverberated throughout their bodies. Both their knees shook. At first it looked like Garchomp would fall first, but she caught herself at the last moment.


    A second later, my Charizard fell. She did not get up again.


    Never in my life have I been as furious as the moment Cynthia walked toward me with that smug, disgusting grin on her face and stretched her hand toward me. She looked¡­ so happy. So satisfied. She had the fucking nerve to tell me that was one of the best battles anyone had ever given her.


    Looking back on it, I realize I was being childish when I slapped her hand away and walked out of there. A sore loser. I just¡­ couldn''t understand, I suppose. But that''s because I was still na?ve; still thinking within a framework I should''ve shaken myself free of a long time ago.


    I never had any chance of winning, you see. I sincerely doubt anyone does, save from perhaps a few legendary trainers whose Spirits burn as brightly as hers.


    There is something¡­ more, about Cynthia, you could say. Something that I can''t see being overcome with diligence and determination.


    [That term piques my interest. I can''t help remembering Alberich''s words from Marie''s story back then.


    ''In the hallowed land that city is built upon, the gifts of people and Pokemon are simply more''  .]


    "Are you saying that Cynthia is one of them? A Stigma?"


    What? No, of course not.


    I mean¡­ She might know about them, I certainly wouldn''t put it past her. But I really can''t see her joining such a group.


    No, no, Cynthia''s¡­ uniqueness is something she was born with, I think.


    "Born with? How?"


    I''m not one hundred percent sure myself, but it might have something to do with the town she was born in, as well as¡­ well, some might say fate, I suppose. Much like Wysteria, Celestic town is a place of great importance, a spot where a certain invisible Something coalesces, you could say.


    "You know that being vague isn''t going to help either of us, right?"


    I swear that, at least this time, that''s not my intention.


    I''m serious when I say I only have a vague idea of all of this. Whatever Cynthia was born with, or just¡­ whatever is woven into her, it''s not exactly power or energy or anything I could describe. She certainly can''t conjure up flames like the Fourth Stigma, completely camouflage himself like the Sixth or even see the threads of fate like the Seventh. And she obviously doesn''t have powers like those of the legendary heroes of Sinnohan lore.


    It''s nothing that you could see, nothing that would technically raise her above the level of a normal human, but if you were next to her you''d know exactly what I mean. It''s¡­ a presence. A sort of pressure she exudes. Some might say it''s simply the strength of her Spirit, that she inherited what the legendary Nyss once possessed. It''s a good explanation as any; I personally don''t have a better one. It is simply what she is, and that''s as concise as I can be about it.


    "Is that something you discovered after your loss against her?"


    [Shadi''s expression flinches for a moment, but then she smiles and lets out a sigh.]


    Like I said, I never had a chance. All my life I''d been told that I was a prodigy, that I could achieve anything with diligent application of my intelligence, and while it is true that I am more capable than most, being raised that way gave me the wrong impression that the playing field was leveled for all of us. But of course, that couldn''t have been more far from the truth. Had that been the case, I would now be the Champion of Sinnoh.


    My desire to seek out answers and investigate Cynthia and all she was hiding was sprouted on by anger, I admit it, but it was as good a reason as any to finally force myself to open my eyes.


    "No offense, but¡­"


    [I stop, then frown.]


    "No actually, I don''t care if I offend you. All I''m hearing is that you''re such a narcissist and a sore loser that, through a leap of logic so massive it could get you over the summit of Mt. Coronet, you found a way to paint yourself as a societal victim even though you''re a prodigy from a rich family who probably had more opportunities than you knew what to do with."


    ¡­Well shit, Tulip. Did I catch you in a wrong mood or is this how you always are? Because I''m fine with either option.


    "Let''s just say you''re the kind of person that tends to constantly press all of my buttons."


    [Shadi opens her mouth, a sly look on her face, but I hurry to cut her off.]


    "No. Shut up."


    Phooey.


    But whatever. You''re more than free to think whatever you want of me, Tulip, as it affects me none. I and I alone know my own truth.


    "Sure, whatever you say. Let''s get back on topic, alright?"


    If that''s what you want.


    As I was saying, I won''t deny that at first my investigation was fueled by misplaced bitterness, but to my surprise and relief, I did actually find something. A clue of sorts, regarding Cynthia''s¡­intentions, you might say. And I never would''ve found it if it weren''t for the woman herself.


    Cynthia is, above all, desperate to find someone who can give her a proper challenge. That''s why she constantly roams the region during the time of the League challenge, carefully observing those trainers whom she deems to have the potential to someday best her and subtly interfering in their journey. Whether she gives them help or something to struggle against depends on what she thinks they lack. And so she goes, slowly, carefully grooming her would-be successors until they become¡­ perfect.


    "You''d think the leader of a region would have better things to do with her time."


    She''s a very capable multitasker, though you''re not wrong.


    "I''m assuming you were one of those trainers she groomed?"


    And possibly the only one to realize that''s what she was doing. Though, until very recently, I was wrong about her motives. I just assumed her competitive nature and immense skill had led her to become starved for a good challenge, something incredibly few could provide for her. And while that might be partly the reason, it wasn''t the whole story.


    My implication from before bears repeating. Cynthia is looking for a successor, not just a proper challenge.


    [A heavy silence hangs in the air after Shadi finishes speaking. She looks more serious than she''s done before during this interview.


    I break said silence only after realizing she must be waiting for some kind of reaction.]


    "I¡­ suppose you''re hoping I''ll ask why?"


    [Shadi clicks her tongue and gives me a sideways smile.]


    For now that is, unfortunately, on a need to know basis. And you, dear Tulip, do not need to know.


    All I''ll say is this; there''s usually only one reason to search for a successor so fervently.


    "¡­ So that''s it, then. You just spent ten minutes wasting my fucking time with something that has nothing to do with the Institute."


    You know, I don''t remember you being this cranky when you had to deal with Monika''s theatrics.


    "That''s because she was an old lady. Also it''s been almost two years since then and I''ve become a lot more tired of people''s bullshit, especially this past week."


    [Shadi huffs a laugh.]


    I suppose misplacing your teacher and that puppy-eyed assistant of yours has left you in a pretty rough shap¨C


    "Also I hate you. I''m sorry, I know you haven''t technically done anything to me but I can''t hear you speak without thinking that you''re a huge tool."


    Well¨C


    "Like seriously, is this a Sinnohan thing or is everyone related to the Institute as insufferably smarmy as you? Why is it that you people just can''t get to the fucking point? Why all the laughs and smirks and mysterious bullshit? Do you think it makes you sound special or something?"


    I¨C


    "You know what I do every time people like you act like that? I imagine you doing something common like eating pizza or buying groceries or watching T.V. in your pajamas and suddenly whatever threatening presence you were trying to invoke just flies out the window! You do realize you''re just like, a normal girl, right? Even if you have spooky powers, what are you going to do if I just decide to jump at you and punch you in the face? Your dumb theatrics wouldn''t save you from that, I assure you."


    [Shadi stares at me for a few seconds. She actually looks taken aback.]


    This week''s been that rough, huh?


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "You have no fucking idea."


    Yeah. I would apologize but¡­ you know. Your scathing comments aside, it''s not like I''ll act any differently.


    "Can you just¡­ please get to the part I want to know about? I promise I won''t insult you anymore if you do."


    Heh. I guess it''s the last I can do in return for your lovely company. Oh, but you needn''t worry, my feelings weren''t hurt by your outburst just now. In fact, I found it quite¡­ appealing. Passionate irritation is an attractive quality in a woman, I think.


    "That explains a lot."


    Anyway, yes. I was getting to this part just before you went off in your tangent, but my¡­ association with the Institute came about due to a strange mix of luck and necessity.


    I knew I couldn''t stop Cynthia as I was back then, even if she didn''t know I was onto her. I needed something to put us in equal grounds, you could say. Insurance of sorts.


    Say. Are you by any chance familiar with Sinnohan lore? More specifically, the tales of those who would call themselves¡­ legendary heroes?


    [Shadi rolls her eyes at the last two words.]


    "Something about normal humans bonding with the siblings of the Lake Trio and gaining their powers, yes? I''ve skimmed books regarding the subject. No offence, but I always found Sinnohan lore to be rather¡­ heavy-handed."


    For once, we could not agree more.


    But yes, our history is full to the brim of tales about said heroes, to the point where the line between legend and reality has become rather¡­ blurred. There are hundreds if not thousands of records detailing the existence of these abnormally powerful people. And while another one of them hasn''t publicly popped up in the last few hundred years, I think it''s pretty clear that those are not simply legends.


    I''d expect someone so familiar with Wysteria to understand that better than others.


    [I hang onto her words for a few seconds, a crease forming on my forehead. Something about this¡­]


    "So it''s real, then."


    As real as anything can be. At first, not long after my loss, I considered looking for one of the siblings of the lake and try to bond with them. Balance things out that way. Luckily, it didn''t take me long to realize that I possessed neither the valor, the wisdom nor the empathy needed for my Spirit to resonate with theirs. It would have been a lost cause.


    And besides, someone else had already staked a claim on them.


    Still, I didn''t give up hope. Ironically, it was one of the things Cynthia herself had shown me during my travels that gave me the clue I needed. A dusty old book belonging to her family''s clan of lorekeepers. A priceless relic of information that she was foolish to show someone like me.


    See, it''s true that pretty much the entirety of all records and tales of those kinds of heroes involve one of the siblings of the lake, which is¡­ understandable. They are by far the most intelligent and cognizant out of all Pokemon, being the guardians of the human Spirit and all, and they themselves constantly sought out worthy humans they could bond with. Not only that, but they are practically made for that. I''d hazard a guess that, with the exception of ghost-types, those three are the least physical out of all Pokemon. The line between their body and Spirit is so blurred it almost doesn''t exist. It makes sense they''re so often the protagonists of these kinds of legends.


    But those are just reasons why it''s easier for them. It doesn''t mean it''s impossible to attain a similar sort of bonding with another Pokemon, does it?


    [I can feel my throat dry and tighten the more she speaks. I have an inkling as to where she''s going with this.]


    Of course, I realized I''d have to do it with a Pokemon whose body and Spirit are as ageless as those of the lake siblings. A legend, in other words. Otherwise¡­ well, I doubt most normal Pokemon would survive having their Spirit separated from their bodies, be it a small piece or all of it.


    There are many lines I''ve crossed over my life, but intentionally killing Pokemon for my own benefit will not be one of them. Besides, unless it''s in the right place and with the right Pokemon, it wouldn''t be much worth it, now would it?


    [She shoots me another one of those infuriating sly smiles. I want to open my mouth and say something but I can''t seem to find the words.]


    It was a tall order, but I was determined. There were some complications, the biggest of which being a certain family duty that was thrust upon me with the worst possible timing, but in the end I found my¡­ perfect match, you could say. And I couldn''t have done it without the help of my former teacher


    "Your¡­ teacher?"


    A woman so striking and charming no one would ever suspect the kinds of secrets she hides under those white gloves of hers.


    [My fingers twitch involuntarily at the sound of the word gloves. She couldn''t mean¡­]


    Back in her youth she''d been as curious and hungry for this sort of power as I am, but by the time I saw her for what she was, she''d long since left that kind of life behind her. She wanted¡­ peace. Stability. Time away from the darkness her curiosity had unearthed, that which had been fused into her very being.


    It took some time and a lot of persuading, but eventually she did agree to teach me what she knew, in exchange for the promise that I would not follow along the same path she once did.


    I like to believe I held true to that promise, even if only by a technicality.


    And so, with her help and the rest of the information I''d gathered over the course of a year, I found not only the perfect match for my needs but also the means with which to subdue his power under my control.


    "His?"


    [Shadi smiles, and the pale green of her eyes flash a sharp, icy blue. My eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden.


    She ignores my question and continues.]


    I guess I could have stopped there. Tried to make do with what I''d already acquired even if my chances weren''t perfect, but like I said¡­ I was curious, and hungry for more. This place my teacher had spoken of, this¡­ Institute. If just the notion of such a place wasn''t enough to draw me to it, then the knowledge of what kinds of abilities my teacher had gained from them certainly did.


    [She pauses, once again waiting for a reaction, but this time I can''t find it in me to act disinterested.]


    "I¡­ guessed it when you first mentioned her, and knowing you''d met with them before. She¡­ your teacher was one of them, wasn''t she? Their Eight Stigma, the one that abandoned the Institute."


    [Shadi raises an amused eyebrow.]


    How do you know that''s what happened?


    [I pause, mouth hanging slightly open. My brow furrows.]


    "Marie¡­ that must''ve been one of her theories¡­ I think. I guess I just assumed it was true."


    ¡­Did you, now?


    "Who is she? You mentioned her like she was an acquaintance of yours even before you knew of her true nature."


    She was, though I''m sorry to say I can''t tell you much more than that.


    Oh, don''t make that face. I swore a bow of secrecy regarding her true identity before I began studying under her, and even if we haven''t seen each other in ages, I still hold her in high regard. I would hate to betray her trust like that.


    Besides, even if I told you, it wouldn''t do you much good. Like I said, she wants nothing but to leave that life behind her, and as impressive as your determination to find the truth is, Tulip, I don''t think even you would be able to sway her into giving you an interview. It''d most likely be a distressing waste of time for everyone involved.


    "Okay, okay. I¡­ I get it."


    [I look down, staring at my hand as it writes these words for far longer than I should, feeling a knot forming in my throat. If she''s not willing to discuss this woman, the only thing remaining¡­]


    Now, what''s with that face? One might think you''re scared of asking the next question.


    [I glare at her before speaking.]


    "You went to the Institute in search of the same power your teacher once had, then."


    In a way. It wasn''t in any way easy to find them nor the Abyssal Ruins, I can tell you that much. Though considering how long you''ve been at this, you probably assumed that from the start. The location of that place changes constantly, so unless you have some kind of anchor to the inside you''d have to find it all over again every time.


    But¡­ in the end I did find it, and I came face to face with the keeper of the ruins himself, Alberich, who welcomed me with¡­ well, not open arms exactly, but certainly more hospitality than I expected.


    You know, the funny thing is, I think he knew I was full of shit when I told him I wanted to fill the missing spot of their Eight Stigma. It''s just a hunch. A feeling I got when those terrifyingly sharp eyes of his bore straight through the mantle of darkness protecting me and into my very soul. And yet¡­ he gave me the opportunity anyway. And worst of all, he smiled so warmly at me as he did so.


    [For the first time, a hint of distress crosses Shadi''s face, nose scrunching up and lips pursing into a thin line. She unconsciously grabs onto her right shoulder, under which her arm is missing.]


    He must''ve known the price I''d have to pay for that power, and thought it was an appropriate punishment.


    "You got the power, then. You went through what they call a Blossoming."


    Yes, though what I gained from it wasn''t nearly as substantial as what my teacher did. Still¡­ it was enough.


    "I''m guessing you''re not going to tell me what that thing you gained is?"


    [Shadi shows me an apologetic smile.]


    It''s¡­ complicated. The Eight Stigma is kind of an unique case, fundamentally different from the rest in that, while they usually vary in their strengths and specialties, the Eight must always reach their Blossoming in the same way, from the same source. And moreover, what they must bond with isn''t¡­ exactly a Pokemon, at least not in the traditional way you''d think of them.


    To put it in simple terms, the Eight Stigma must stare into the abyss, and let said abyss do a hell of a lot more than stare back into them.


    But, like you guessed, I can''t tell you much more than that. I''m not exactly on good terms with Alberich and I wouldn''t like to test his patience further by revealing such sensitive information.


    "Scared of him, I assume?"


    [Shadi''s eyes narrow for a moment, her upper lip twitching. The smile that she forms a moment after doesn''t extend to her eyes.]


    If that''s what you want to believe, go ahead.


    In any case¡­ that''s how it happened. And while I can''t tell you exactly what my particular Blossoming entailed, you''ll probably want to know it was the only one not conducted within Wysteria itself.


    "I see¡­ I have an idea, but there''s a reason why that''s such a rarity, yes?"


    Remember what I said before about the odd nature of places like Celestic and Wysteria?


    "Yeah. I was actually going to ask about that before you pissed me off. What did you mean about them being ''places of great importance?'' And¡­ something about a coalescence?"


    That''s the best word to describe it, I think. Imagine it like a well of sorts; a series of cracks or a depression in the ground, Once rain starts falling, the water will always follow the path of least resistance. It will gather in those spots, filling them up first before anywhere else. It''s not a¡­ perfect analogy. The kind of power I''m talking about doesn''t exactly behave that way, but it''s as good of an approximation as any.


    Places like Celestic or Wysteria are those metaphorical wells where this invisible Something gathers. I''m not exactly sure why, though my teacher had her guesses. She thought it might be due to an abnormal absence that might have existed there sometime in the past. A nothingness of sorts; that which all Eight Stigma are supposed to claim for themselves. A void which, over time, has become this well of power I''ve described.


    And, as I''m sure you''ve noticed plenty already, that''s the reason behind Wysteria''s¡­ unique properties. Why the people and Pokemon living there were affected in such a way.


    Remember what I said before about blurry lines? It''s not much different. Like the outline of a painting getting thinner and thinner until the colors inside start pouring out, intermingling with those of the drawings around it until they create a result that''s more than the sum of its parts.


    And that ''result'' is what the Institute spent so much time investigating.


    [She stops talking, I don''t know if to create a dramatic pause or simply to regain her breath, but it doesn''t matter. I feel as though I need this break. I close my eyes and my shoulders go down with a long, tired sigh.


    Shadi is quick to pick up on this.]


    I assume you''ve put the pieces together?


    [I don''t respond for a few seconds, staring at nothing. There''s an itch behind my ribcage. Something hot and pulsing and venomous that, were I not in the middle of an interview, might drive me to crush the pen I''m holding with my own fingers.


    Despite suddenly finding it hard to breathe, I manage to get the words out.]


    "So that''s what they wanted all along. A way to artificially recreate that Bond that the lake siblings and their heroes shared in legends."


    [Words start pouring out of my mouth almost unconsciously. The fingers on my free hand start quickly tapping against the table.]


    "It was a process they wanted studied. Refined. That''s why they experimented on the citizens, why they forced those Bonds on them over and over, even if it killed them or their Pokemon or whoever else. They kept at it until they knew exactly how it worked and how they could best gain advantage from it.


    "The experiment with Monika''s parents¡­ must''ve been one of the first, right? It only makes sense. They tried to blur the lines between them through those eggs of hers, but they got sloppy and a lot of people ended up compromised. Same with Horace and his chorus. Their¡­ spirits were intrinsically connected, using that Chimecho as¡­ w-what had that guy called it? An instrument of resonance? Yes, The Institute must''ve sent it there. And they were ready to collect the children after, so they must''ve been observing it all. Though thanks to Horace, it ended up being another failure on their part.


    "Then¡­ Kate, Mark, Maes, Mr. Tanaka¡­ those must''ve all been accidents too. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Is that¡­ is it any better? At least they weren''t being experimented on, but¡­ Agh!"


    [I purse my lips., running my free hand through my hair forcefully. The itch in my chest seems to have extended to behind my eyes, turning bothersome. It feels like an electric current running through my nerves.


    Across from me, Shadi''s eyes widen slightly.]


    "B-but¡­ why the tunnels, then? Why did they kidnap the entire population of the town a-and¡­ where did they go? What¡­?"


    [Another throb of pain behind my eyes. I wince this time. Shadi is looking at me strangely, but she replies nonetheless.]


    I''m afraid that''s something I don''t know. Only three other Stigmas were responsible for the experiments in Wysteria, and I only met one of them, the Fourth, briefly during my short stay at the Institute. I''ve heard of another, the Sixth, but only through proxy.


    "Maybe¡­ they could''ve used whatever method bonded all of those chorus kids together but¡­ on the whole town? T-that could explain why all of them vanished at the same time. But it still doesn''t explain why, or¡­"


    [I shake my head.]


    That is¡­ a good guess. Exactly the same as mine, in fact.


    Again, almost none of what I learned at the Institute had to do with Wysteria. All the conclusions you just reached I did too in the past, but they were only educated guesses on my part. Although knowing that you are in agreement gives those guesses a bit more credibility for sure.


    And, if I were to make one more guess, it''d be that whatever led all those people down into the tunnels, whatever made them disappear, has to do with the Institute''s end goal regarding Wysteria. The cherry on top, so to speak. A way to artificially manufacture a bond as powerful as that granted by a legend, but without having to go through the trouble of getting said legend to cooperate.


    "That''s¡­ the origin of the Stigmas, isn''t it? That''s the marking they all have, those black dots on their palm¡­"


    Yes, you could call it a sort of seal, something engraved into their very souls. And while this isn''t true for all of them, it is usually the source of the power each of them were granted by their respective Blossomings, and had I chosen to fully go through with mine, I''m sure I''d be sporting a similar marking. Alas¡­


    [She wiggles the finger of her remaining hand, showing me a palm devoid of a stigma.]


    I decided to only absorb of said power as I needed before escaping. I refuse to become one of the Institute''s puppets, no matter how tempting the benefits may be.


    And, personally, I''m of the belief they didn''t need to go as far as they did in Wysteria, but you know how the Fourth and Sixth are. Relentlessness and lack of empathy don''t mix well, as those two continually demonstrate.


    [My fingers dig into my scalp with a sudden force at the mention of the Fourth Stigma. I can feel my heart beat faster. The itch behind my eyes exacerbates.]


    "So that''s all this was. All we¡­ ever were. Just a bunch of toys for them to play with."


    [Shadi smiles and opens her mouth, but I''m quick to interrupt her.]


    "If you say anything defending them I swear to Mew I''ll jump over this table and trample you."


    Oh come on, Tulip, how heartless do you think I am?


    "¡­"


    ¡­Fair enough. But no, I think you''ve already been through enough, and I can''t say I condone what the Insitute has done, even if I''ve personally benefitted from their research.


    And besides¡­


    [Another one of her smiles. It looks a lot more punchable now that I have this weird throb in my head.]


    ¡­I doubt you could actually, physically go through with your threat. At least while the interview is still going on.


    I mean¡­ I had my guesses, but looking at it first-hand is something else.


    [I freeze for a moment, the itch behind my eyes disappearing in a flash.]


    "What?"


    Haven''t you ever noticed? Hasn''t it ever seemed strange to you? I mean, just look at your hand. It hasn''t stopped moving, writing, for the entirety of this interview. Not for a single second. Not when you were irritated, not when you were shocked, not even during that heated, angry spiel of yours. Even now, while I''m telling you this, it keeps transcribing my words in real time, without fail.


    [I purse my lips and look down at my hand. It keeps moving, writing these words in the small silence following Shadi''s observation.]


    See? You finished writing that just in time before I started talking again. You always do that. Always know exactly how much color commentary to include to fill the silence. It''s almost automatic, isn''t it? If I''m not doing something worthy to write about then you describe what you''re feeling, going into more and more detail the longer the silence stretches for.


    "I-I¡­"


    You''re still at it. You haven''t tried to let go of the pen all the time I''ve been saying this. Or is it more that¡­ you can''t? Not until the interview is finished, at least


    "I''m¡­ just doing what I''m supposed to be doing. I''m this good at taking notes and transcribing interviews in real time because of experience. That''s all there is to it."


    [Shadi lets out a small giggle.]


    I don''t mind if you lie to me, but is it really okay for you to do it to your audience?


    "Wha¨C?"


    Don''t you think it''s time already? You''ve dug your nails into so many people''s chests, extracting the painful stories you needed and leaving them there, bleeding, hurting.


    When will it be your turn? Why won''t you tell us your story? You were one of the experiments we recently discussed, are you not?


    Why won''t you tell us what''s under those gloves of yours, Tulip?


    [I stare at her for what feels like a lot longer than any silence should be able to be stretched between us. I can''t seem to find the words to reply. That itching, poisonous heat in my chests seems to have been replaced with something cold and heavy.]


    Heh. It''s alright; I''ve already pushed you far enough today. I think it''s time I made my leave. Leave you alone with your thoughts. I''m sure you could use the time to reflect upon certain things.


    [Shadi pushes herself to her feet and lets out a yawn as she stretches. Part of me is tempted to stop her, to have her answer a few more of my questions if she''s capable, but another part of me feels oddly glad she will soon be gone.


    She seems to notice my hesitation, and speaks again after placing a hand on the back of her neck and making it click.]


    Ah¡­ Though I guess I could give you one last piece of information. Something to get you going¡­ a reason for you to revisit your past, perhaps. Both for your benefit and that of your dear readers. It might even help you find the location of your teacher and assistant, if you''re lucky.


    "¡­I¡­"


    However, I will require payment for this one. A small favor. Nothing too bad or strenuous, trust me, but I will need you to agree to it before I tell you what it is.


    [I swallow. As I look her in the eye, I could swear her eyes flash that cold blue again, for the briefest of instants. My gut is telling me I should simply get up and leave, yet¡­]


    "¡­Fine. Not like I have anything else to lose. As long as the information is useful, I accept."


    [Shadi actually looks surprised that I agreed. She chuckles in disbelief, then shrugs.]


    Alright, then. Here it is.


    Like I said, the handling of Wysteria as a trial ground for the Institute''s experiments might have been ordained by Alberich, but it was three of the Stigma who were mostly in charge of the project. The man himself was happy to let them do as they wished, as long as he got the results he wanted.


    But¡­ once I heard of you, Tulip, and once I began connecting the dots, I realized your case sounded eerily similar to one the Fourth Stigma once told me about. A passing comment, nothing more than that. But still, I thought you might want to know.


    The experiment involving you and your family was carried out by the Fourth, as I''m sure you know. But it was commissioned by Alberich himself. The only one, as far as I''m aware, with the possible exception of the final disappearance of the town''s population.


    [I can''t help the sharp exhalation that leaves my mouth. I stare at Shadi, wordlessly, for a few seconds before she speaks again. She doesn''t look mocking or sly as she did before. There''s genuine pity in her expression.]


    I''m telling you this so you know that your past might not be as insignificant to your research for the truth as you think it is. Besides¡­ even if you''re going up against the entirety of the Institute, the Fourth has always been your primary goal, hasn''t she?


    "¡­Yes. She¡­ s-she''s the first I''ll take out, if I have the opportunity."


    Heh. Sorry to say, but against someone like her, I doubt you''d serve as much more than kindling for her flames. They don''t call her the Demon of Flare for nothing, you know.


    But¡­ that na?ve determination might just be the reason I''m so taken by you, Tulip. And if, as far-fetched as it might be, there is a possibility you can take out someone like her¡­ then what''s stopping you from doing the same to the rest of the Institute? That would certainly make my life a lot easier.


    "Is that why you agreed to this interview? To give me more of a chance?"


    Guilty as charged. I''m counting on you, Tulip, so I''d rather you don''t go and kick it right away. Although¡­ you won''t see me shed many tears if you do. I wouldn''t want to get my hopes up, you understand.


    "¡­Right. Well¡­ thank you. That is pretty valuable information.


    "I''m guessing you''re going to collect your favor now."


    Right you are. Though like I said, it''s nothing for you to worry about. It''s simply something that''ll let me¡­ keep an eye on you, just in case.


    "What is it? What''s the¨C?"


    [Shadi extends her left hand toward me, a hook of a smile forming on her face. This time I''m not imagining it. Her eyes have changed to a deep, icy blue.]


    Touch my hand with yours. No gloves. Skin against skin.


    "W-why do you want me t¨C?"


    Ah, of course, I forgot. You can''t quite take it off as long as one of your hands is busy writing.


    In that case, I officially declare that this interview is over. You may give your hand a rest.


    "Wh¨C"


    <hr>


    [Another burst of static, followed by Tulip''s voice.]


    That''s as far as the written interview goes. I''m guessing Shadi verbally saying that it was over was enough to¡­ break me free of whatever trance I''m in whenever I interview someone with pen and paper.


    I tried it with Lynne earlier, having him give me a fake interview, and the same principle applied. I could not stop writing until either one of us agreed that the interview was over or until outside influence, like being pushed aside or thrown water at, forcefully interrupted me.


    And that, like you readers probably guessed, is the reason I''m sticking to audio recordings for the time being. I''d rather not deal with that until I know exactly why I''m like this or how the process works.


    [Tulip sighs.]


    Still¡­ my anger toward Shadi aside, this is by far the most fruitful interview I''m aware of. Even if I had to basically make a pact with the devil at the end there. I''m guessing whatever she did when we touched hands, it''s what allowed her to find and save me from the Fourth''s flames a few weeks ago.


    So¡­ I guess I''m thankful for that, as much as I hate to admit it.


    Moreover, the timing of this interview suggests it probably wasn''t very long ago. My comment about Monika''s interview happening almost two years ago and both Marie and Lynne having been missing support this. I don''t know what that means yet, but it''s something.


    [Tulip sighs. The creaking of the couch indicates she deflates and lets herself shrink into it.]


    And now¡­ at least I have a lead. Something to do besides scurry through the cracks of this city like a Durant, trying to survive. I know what I have to do.


    I''ll go back to Wysteria. To my old home. Even if I already did it before and I don''t remember¡­ I feel like it''s finally time to go back. The prospect is as exciting as it is terrifying.


    Now the only problem is gonna be convincing Lynne to accompany me¡­


    [Tulip lets out a low, irritated groan.]


    Guess I should butter him up tonight, sing sweet praises to whatever he makes for dinner. At least I won''t have to pretend too much. He really does have a gift for it.


    In any case¡­ I can see the trip to Wysteria taking a while.


    I''ll make sure to fill the time until then by transcribing and posting one or two of the interviews I have queued up in my blog. Hopefully it''ll be enough so my dear readers don''t feel so alone in these trying times.


    Until then. Wish me luck.


    Tulip Glasslip, out.


    [There''s a crack of static, and the recording cuts out.]

 Fragment #6: Hypnerotomachia

    [The recorder buzzes to life. Tulip is heard breathing heavily for a few seconds before speaking.]


    Hey, Tulip here.


    Lynne and I have been making our way to Wysteria. We''re currently less than a mile from Vermillion, which means we''re halfway there.


    [Lynne is heard speaking. The bitterness in his voice is hard to ignore.]


    "Yeah, and if you''re wondering why it''s taking us so long, I''m sure Tulip can explain."


    Shut it. How could I have known¨C?


    "What, that you needed an ID to board an inter-state bus? Even I know that and I''m not from here!"


    Oh quit your whining. I told you I''m not exactly a legal citizen anymore so not much I could do about that. Besides¡­ walking will do us some good, I''m sure.


    "Right. I''d be more inclined to believe that if we didn''t have to stop every hour because you start sounding like a choking Koffing."


    Fuck off.


    "Whatever."


    [Tulip huffs and clicks her tongue in irritation.]


    Anyway¡­ below is a transcript of one of the two interviews that were saved yet never posted in my website.


    Enjoy.


    [The recording cuts off.]


    <hr>


    [This is yet another one of Marie''s errands I''m supposed to run. Another person her team had considered interviewing, yet comments from some of the locals that this man was delusional convinced them to shift their focus toward something else.


    Even back then, it seems, both Marie and her team were an incompetent group of self-important tossers. But I digress.


    The people of Pewter call him Podvig, although it seems few know the circumstances that led him here, and those people had the decency to urge me to ask him for the story. Others I''ve spoken to have instead gone pale at the mention of him, because small town citizens are sometimes awful like that.


    And yet, I feel more comfortable in his presence than in that of most people I''ve interviewed.


    The house is old, rickety and so dark I can barely see what I''m writing, but it''s clearly been taken care of and I cannot smell a single speck of dust in the air. Podvig''s appearance is somewhat shocking at first, I admit. Only his pale, grey eyes are easily distinguishable amidst the scars and burns. Yet he does not need to curl his lips for his smile to show in his eyes, and while I sit here preparing my paper and pen he serves me a cup of freshly brewed rooibos tea, its scent alone enough to ease my tense shoulders .]


    I was never supposed to stay in Wysteria. Mine was to be a short vacation, a chance to reconnect with the town of my childhood before I went on to do bigger, more important things.


    But you know how it is. Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.


    "You grew up in Wysteria, then?"


    I was born there, though barely. My parents were from abroad, you see. Well just my mom I guess, since dad never really¡­ ah, that doesn''t matter. Thing is, she sorta just¡­ gravitated toward the town when looking for a place to live not long after she arrived in Kanto. I obviously don''t remember it well since I was still in her belly back then but she always talked about it like¡­ like seeing the light of a beacon while drifting at sea. And I can''t really blame her for that.


    Nicest folk you could ever meet, the people of Wysteria. You couldn''t lift a grocery bag without someone offering to help you carry it. At first, when mom arrived with a small group of other foreigners, they offered them shelter and food free of charge. And so she decided to stay.


    I was born that night. I''ll never forget how much my mom talked about it. She was prepared for the pain and anxiety of having me in such conditions. What she wasn''t prepared for was me opening my tiny eyes and looking up at her.


    [He raises one of his scarred, callused fingers and taps against his temple, unblinking. The grey of his eyes almost seems to gleam for a moment.]


    No one in my family had ever had grey eyes, y''see. And of course, since she''d just gotten here, no one had told her.


    "¡­Of course. The eyes of Wysteria."


    During her travels mom had heard a rumor that everyone in Wysteria was born with eyes like mine and yours, but she hadn''t thought much of it. Must''ve been ''cause of a common ancestor or something. But no. Turns out, literally every single person who''s born inside the town''s borders has these eyes.


    "Did your mother freak out at that?"


    Not really. Once someone explained it to her she just¡­ accepted it. She had other stuff to worry about, y''see. Mainly how to keep both herself and her son alive now that she''d finally reached safety.


    Though as it turns out, that wasn''t very difficult at all.


    Y''see, no less than a month after I was born they actually gave us a house near the outskirts of town. Not a big house. Not a very pretty one either, but you can bet your ass it served its purpose.


    And all mom had to do to earn it was work in the printing factory, which she was already thinking of doing. Been her job back in Sinnoh too. And hell, the price of the actual house wasn''t even being docked from her pay. She got her full salary every month and all she had to do to eventually own the house was not quitting. It was a pretty good deal, compared to what she was used to at least.


    "Yes, I remember reading about that after the fact. It was supposed to be a housing plan for those who were interested in living in Wysteria. An investment of sorts in order to grow the town''s population and its infrastructure."


    Yeah. I even heard they were planning to turn the town into a Special Economic Zone like Stark Island in Sinnoh, but that ended up falling through the cracks. Not surprising.


    Anyway, that''s all to say growing up in Wysteria was¡­ nice. It wasn''t anything out of this world. Neighborhood was close to the docks so it always smelled like fish and most of the neighbors were my mom''s age so I didn''t have many friends outside of school, but still. It was enough. It was safe, which was everything my mom could''ve hoped for me.


    "Marble street, yes? I used to walk through it on my way to the docks when I wanted to just look at the lake. It was nice. Homely."


    [Podvig makes a sound that sounds like laughter, although the expression obviously doesn''t form on his face.]


    Homely. That''s a good word. It brings to mind the feelings I had when I thought about the town while I was in college. The same feeling that eventually made me go back to visit it one last time. Or so I thought back then.


    "You say that as though you wouldn''t have had much reason to go back otherwise. Did something happen to your mother?"


    ¡­Yeah. You''re perceptive.


    She was a strong woman. Never complained, always took everything in stride, and she made the best of any situation she was in, no matter how complicated. I''m guessing that''s why she didn''t tell me how bad things were. She didn''t want me to worry.


    Still, you can''t hide everything. Four and a half years after I''d gone to Saffron to study Medicine, I was told my mother had fallen sick, and was now hospitalized. Now¡­ that was a problem, obviously. She didn''t have a lot of money saved up and I couldn''t contribute much either since I''d spent the last few years studying and not much more.


    I was ready to drop off and head straight back to Wysteria when she called me and reassured me everything would be okay.


    Turns out, whatever this sickness was, she hadn''t been the only one who''d caught it. A few people from around the neighborhood had shown the same bizarre symptoms. Lack of energy and motivation, problems with short and sometimes long-term memory, uncharacteristic obliviousness¡­ and let''s not forget the big one. Dark stains and blotches dotting the skin in a manner not much different from liver spots. Symptoms that had seemingly nothing to do with each other, but that showed in every single patient of the disease, without exception.


    The town must''ve feared it might be some easily transmitted disease, and a pandemic was the last thing they wanted to deal with. All those who showed symptoms were put under the same roof, and were placed under quarantine until the doctors and experts could figure out what this disease was.


    Mom was already in that building by the time she called me. She said not to worry, that the place was nice and homely and that everyone was taking good care of her. I was still worried of course, but¡­ I guess part of me needed to hear that. Needed that little reassurance that things were still normal, that I didn''t need to abandon my studies just to..


    [Podvig can''t finish the sentence. He shakes his head and lets out a tired sigh.]


    I should''ve gone back. I should''ve checked up on her and been there for her. Instead I clung to any sense of normalcy I could so I didn''t have to panic.


    "I don''t think you should blame yourself. Most would have done the same in your shoes."


    Yeah. That''s exactly the problem.


    [Podvig places his elbows on the table and runs his finger through what''s left of his hair. He looks distressed.]


    I¡­ made sure to demand updates from mom every week. At first, things seemed like they were getting better. No new cases arose after those who''d already been ''infected'' were put under quarantine, and even the disease itself didn''t¡­ seem to be advancing too quickly, too badly. They took test after test, but couldn''t find anything wrong with them. Like the disease wasn''t even there. Or if it was¡­


    [He makes a gesture with his hand and rolls his eyes. I don''t need him to finish the sentence to know what he means.]


    "But they were getting worse, weren''t they?"


    Yeah. Slowly, in a way the experts didn''t realize until it was too late. One bad day here, one forgetful accident there¡­ well, you know how these things are. This disease wasn''t like most. It didn''t spread, it didn''t fill its victim with itself. It just¡­ took things away. And that''s a lot harder to diagnose.


    I was¡­ almost twenty-four when I got the bad news. Only a few months away from graduation. I''d been busting my ass studying and acing in tests just so I could get my degree a year earlier than most. My plan was¡­ stupid, but idealistic. I wanted to graduate early and go back to Wysteria in order to help out with this outbreak. It was going to be the main topic of my final thesis, in fact. An opportunity to fully earn my title and an excuse to help out mom and see what I could do to help.


    ¡­Well.


    I guess knowing there''s nothing I could''ve really done helps soften the blow, but it still hurts that I was too late.


    The week before I''d gotten a call, not from mom but from one of the people working in that place. One of the people looking over the sick.


    Mom¡­ wasn''t doing so well. She was slipping. I noticed it during our phone talks before, too, but I never thought it could get so bad. She was starting to forget things. Where she was, who the people around her were. She''d lost most of the motivation she had for even the simplest things like eating or showering or walking around talking to those around her. And even when she did, she wasn''t¡­ right. She got lost easily. Didn''t pay attention to her surroundings.


    That should''ve been enough for me. Enough to tip me over the edge and head straight to Wysteria, but¡­ I was so close. Only a couple more months, a few more tests, and I''d be a certified medical professional. I''d be able to help much more than if I were to abandon my studies and just travel back home without any way to contribute.


    That''s how I justified it to myself, at least. Didn''t help much when the news came.


    "Did the disease kill her?"


    Not really. It wasn''t designed to kill you on its own.


    It was just an accident. Her caretakers got distracted for a few minutes and she wandered off into the hallways, then¡­ didn''t see the stairs. She slipped and fell and¡­


    I don''t think the details are necessary. You know what I mean.


    "I... am sorry for your loss."


    It''s alright. I doubt she had much of a chance of survival once the disease got to her.


    "What did you do after hearing the news? Did you go back to Wysteria?"


    No. I was told my mother''s body couldn''t be transported and outfitted for a funeral. Something about it being a possible biohazard, so she was scheduled to be cremated that same day.


    "They¡­ cremated your mother''s corpse? Without you being there?"


    [It''s hard to keep the shock and disgust from my voice.]


    At least they pretended to ask for my permission first. And what was I supposed to tell them? I''m a doctor, I know full well the hazard an infected corpse can prove, especially when no one knows what was it infected by. Besides¡­ if I''d gone back then, I would''ve been the only one to attend that funeral. All of my mother''s friends and acquaintances were still locked up in that building.


    I''m guessing from that face you''re making that you realize how suspicious this all was.


    "Yes. Even if I weren''t aware of the powers that were at play in Wysteria, I''d definitely raise an eyebrow at such events."


    [Podvig sighs.]


    I wish I could''ve been that observant back then. The signs were all there. An unidentified disease popping up out of nowhere, infecting only an isolated neighborhood of people who weren''t actual natives of the town... A disease that somehow didn''t spread through any traditional means, despite the fact that the entire neighborhood had caught it at the same time. Then there were those¡­ experts. The people that corralled them all into the same building and placed them under quarantine.


    I should''ve asked myself who said experts were. They certainly didn''t sound like they were from Wysteria. Not to mention, all those months¡­ I''d never seen mention of the disease or the quarantine in any news channel, not even the one local to Wysteria itself.


    I should''ve¡­


    [Podvig looks down at the empty cup in his hands for a few seconds, then shakes his head weakly.]


    No. It¡­ it wasn''t my fault. I know that. I could sit here telling you all about how I was selfish for believing she''d pull through, selfish for wanting to finish my studies before I headed back and offered my help but¡­ none of that is right. What happened wasn''t normal. It wasn''t a tragedy I or anyone else could''ve prevented.


    It¡­


    "It wasn''t your fault."


    [Podvig looks up at me, as though surprised by hearing me say that.]


    "You''re right. Some people might want to make you believe that what happened to you, what happened was some form of retribution. Payment for your hubris. But those people don''t know what the fuck they''re talking about."


    ¡­Tulip?


    "The Institute doesn''t care about the people they hurt. They didn''t target you or Monika or Horace or any of the rest because they wanted to teach you a lesson. They picked at random. You were all just¡­ unlucky. Just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There''s no meaning behind the cruelty that was inflicted on you. Just like there''s no meaning in someone being struck by lightning, as low as the odds may be.


    And if there''s no meaning, then it can''t be your fault. You can''t take responsibility for what happened if you had no control over it."


    ¡­


    [Podvig studies me for a long, silent moment. Though the slit of his mouth doesn''t move, I can see a sad smile reflected in his eyes.]


    I''m guessing you''re speaking from experience?


    "I''ve come to realize that spite is more useful for my goal than misplaced guilt."


    Heh. As a doctor, I should tell you not to overdo it. Stress and spite are bad for the heart, y''see.


    "Thank you, but I don''t think my average life expectancy is something I''ll ever have to worry about."


    I honestly hope you''re pleasantly surprised in that front.


    [Despite my efforts not to, I can''t help but form a smile.]


    "I think we''ve gotten away from the point. Could we continue with the interview?"


    Oh, right. Sorry.


    "No hard feelings. You said you stayed in college until you finished your degree; I assume it wasn''t long after that you returned to Wysteria?"


    Not long at all. Took the train to Vermilion and hopped on a bus headed for Wysteria the very next day, actually. Didn''t even stay for the graduation ceremony. I had my diploma, now all I needed was to complete my thesis, which like I said, was the perfect excuse to go back.


    I¡­ don''t know why I still wanted to carry out that plan. Mom was dead. I guess part of me wanted to do what I could to ensure what happened to her wouldn''t repeat but¡­ I don''t know. People act weirdly when they''re in grief. If anyone in the world can perfectly tell you why they did everything they did in life, let me know. I could learn a lot from them.


    "Your plan worked, then? They let you join the medical team even though you were a fresh graduate?"


    Now, to be fair, my grades and my resume were impeccable, even if I lacked experience. And besides, it''s not like they had much choice. Most of the ''experts'' that had been working on the case had quit. Nothing indicated they''d caught the disease, but it was mighty suspicious¡­ still, at the time I figured that''s why they accepted me with open arms. More so when I told them my mom had been one of the infected.


    It was¡­ the weirdest thing, actually.


    "What was?"


    Well, I''d been making calls to these guys pretty regularly ever since the quarantine started. It was always the same few people that answered the phone. They''d have me say my name and would then call my mom so we could talk. But that night before I headed back to Wysteria¡­ when I called to offer my help, it was someone new that answered. A man whose voice I''d never heard before.


    He had a pretty thick Unovan accent, but his voice was really cheery and singsong. It¡­ creeped me out, honestly. At first I thought I''d dialed the wrong number but then he introduced himself as the man in charge of the medical team and the quarantine effort.


    Those were his exact words. I didn''t think much of it at the time, but now I realize he never actually gave me his name. Not then and not when I saw him in person.


    Anyway, I don''t think I even made it to the part about my thesis before he cut me off. He sounded¡­ giddy. Excited. He told me my timing couldn''t have been better, that they''d been looking for someone with my ''qualifications'' and that he''d be more than happy to let me start working as soon as I made it to Wysteria.


    "I assume said ''qualifications'' had nothing to do with your formal training at all?"


    Well, yeah. That seems obvious in hindsight.


    Still. Something about his voice, how gleeful he sounded when talking about the quarantine¡­ and yet it didn''t sound like there was any malice in it, you know? This is, again, hindsight talking but it was kind of like hearing a kid all giddy and excited about how a magnifying glass can ignite a Joltik''s fur. It''s more about the discovery of what the magnifying glass can do than the harm it causes, you know what I mean?


    [I purse my lips. Were I able to massage my temples with my hands, I would do so.]


    "Yes¡­ I think I know exactly who you''re talking about."


    I figured.


    But as creepy as the call was¡­ I mean, I couldn''t say no, could I? I''d gotten what I wanted, there was no going back now. Twenty-four hours later I was dropped in Wysteria by a rusty, dilapidated bus, finally¡­ finally back home.


    [He fidgets and twitches a bit, worry clear in his eyes.]


    I guess¡­ I should mention this, since it''s important to the story. Someone else got off the bus alongside me.


    "Someone you knew?"


    No, not then at least. She looked¡­ well, let''s just say she looked out of place in a small dingy town like Wysteria. She was tall and beautiful and¡­ over-produced I guess? I don''t know how to better describe it. Her outfit looked like it was worth more than my scholarship and her pink hair was done in a way I thought only famous, rich people had time for. She looked more ready for a gala or an opening ceremony let''s just say. But instead she was here, getting off a shitty bus and walking down the dirt roads toward the center of town.


    She didn''t even acknowledge me or say hi¡­ but then again, neither did I. I was too taken aback. I couldn''t get the feeling out of my head that I''d seen this woman somewhere before.


    I wouldn''t see her until a few weeks later, w¨C


    ¡­


    [He freezes, the skin above his eyes where his eyebrows should''ve been furrowing into a worried frown.]


    Tulip, are you okay?


    "I¡­"


    [It''s only then I notice how heavy my breathing is, how tightly I''m gripping the pen as I write these words down. I can''t even imagine what my expression must look like.]


    "I''m quite alright. I just¡­ think I recognize this woman from your story. Please, pay it no mind and continue."


    Well¡­ I mean, alright.


    Where was I? Right, er¡­ I''d been told by that man in the phone to meet with him in front of the quarantine building. He said there''d be no need for me to stay in a hotel or pay for an apartment. His¡­ employers, I remember he told me, would be more than happy to provide something for me, and I''d have a room all to myself inside the quarantine building itself should I wish to stay there.


    I¡­ I remember frowning when I first saw the building. It wasn''t until then that I realized I''d never¡­ actually seen it. I always thought it''d look like a small hospital or a hotel or something similar, but in reality it was¡­


    Well, it''s hard to describe. It looked almost like a rest home, though the layout and brickwork of the place were much, much older than the neighborhood surrounding it. There was a worn down wooden sign near the entrance with the name of the place and a couple lines of text below.


    The name was¡­ Sinnohan. I knew that just by the alphabet that was being used, but it wasn''t a word I was very familiar with. At first I thought the name might have been ''Dovecote'' and¡­ well, I wasn''t entirely wrong. It''s just that the word has another meaning I wasn''t aware of at the time.


    "Columbarium."


    ¡­Yeah. And the text below read:


    Tesi samanunga was edele unde scona


    et omnium virtutum pleniter plena


    [I frown for a moment, then realization hits me and I can''t help but groan.]


    "That''s¡­"


    In terrible taste? Yeah. I''m sure whoever wrote it must''ve thought they were being funny. I''d say it was the man I met in the entrance if it weren''t because he looked too young to have been around when the building was designed.


    "The one you talked to over the phone, yes? Let me guess¡­ he was tall, lanky, blonde hair with a streak of blue going around his head?"


    Nailed it in one. This is¡­ kind of the part where people start assuming I''m nuts when I tell the story, but I swear to god the guy appeared out of thin air behind me. I didn''t hear him approach. Didn''t even realize he was there until he cleared his throat and almost made me have a heart attack.


    "You needn''t worry, you aren''t crazy. I believe you."


    [He seems relieved by the sincerity in my voice.]


    Anyway, he was a real weirdo, much more up close than through the phone. Gave me a light pat on the shoulder and called me ''old chap'' though I didn''t even know his name and he sure as shit didn''t sound Galarian. But whatever.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He told me he didn''t have much time, had to get to some appointment and had only stayed behind to welcome the two new arrivals. I remember asking who else was coming after me, but he barely heard me, just kept talking. And considering I didn''t see anyone else new from that day on¡­ well, it wasn''t odd to assume said second person had come before me.


    So the guy gave me the keys to the place as well as my new apartment and told me the two remaining assistants could help me out with whatever problem or doubt I might encounter. Needless to say, I was a bit¡­ overwhelmed. I''d come to help, sure, but I had no idea I''d actually be taking the reins of the whole project.


    "He put you in charge? Even though you were just a fresh graduate?"


    I had the same reaction. But this guy just waved that off like I was being ridiculous and told me there was no reason to worry. He complimented my resume and assured me I could take care of whatever needed¡­ taken care of. He also said that whether I failed or succeeded in researching and categorizing the disease, my thesis would be incredible nonetheless. A great start to a long career, he described it as.


    I asked him¡­ just before he left, I asked him what had happened to the other doctors who''d been in charge of the project. Couldn''t be lack of funding. This guy was willing to pay me double what I''d originally expected. Was there something he wasn''t telling me?


    And to that¡­ the guy looked at me and smiled. It was¡­


    "Terrifying?"


    Let''s just say I wasn''t as prone to asking questions after that.


    He said¡­ he said ''They just simply lacked what it took to get the job done. But I can tell you''re different. Like I said before¡­ there is no need to worry, my friend.''


    That, er¡­ that definitely made some alarms ring in my head, and I think he realized that because the very next thing he did was say goodbye and leave. Probably realized I''d been freaked out enough already. I guess he needed me focused in order to do my job.


    "Did you see him again after that?"


    No, never. Didn''t even talk to him through the phone. Whenever I called to report something it was the same people that had always answered before. People from some¡­ medicinal or pharmaceutical company, I don''t know. Back then I guessed this guy must''ve worked for them or something, but now I''m not so sure.


    Didn''t have much time to wonder about that though. My new job had started.


    "How was it?"


    Well, first few days breezed by, really. I spent them catching up on everything I could find regarding the disease and the studies those before me had conducted. I also made sure to meet with and talk to all of the patients. Not just to get a good idea of what they were doing before they got infected, but also as a way to¡­ you know, catch up. They were all my neighbors once. I knew these people. Anton, one of the oldest patients, had taught me pretty much every card trick you could think of from his time as a stage magician. I''d say I owed him more than half of my amazing finger dexterity. Sophie would babysit me all the time when I was younger, whenever my mom was working a long shift. She had this cute lil'' Ditto that would transform into pretty much anything, and it''d always keep me entertained. Then there was Lyn... I mean, I''m sure all of us have had some kind of crush on a teacher before. Pretty sure he knew, but he never held it against me.


    "It''s no wonder you volunteered to help, then. You knew these people."


    ...Yeah. Though that didn''t stop me from betraying their trust and hiding from them when things started to get ugly.


    Anyway. There were seven of them in total. Which was¡­ convenient because the building counted with eight rooms which were outfitted for medical use, all of them on the first floor. Er, Unovan first floor, the one at ground level, you know what I mean.


    "It''s fine, that is the system I know too."


    Ah, sorry, couldn''t quite place your accent so I just assumed you might be Galarian like your friend. The one that called me and scheduled this interview.


    "Heh. I suppose his accent might be rubbing off on me, but no. I''ve been Kantan for as long as I can remember.


    You were saying about the building, though?"


    Right. The eight room was empty now but it''d been¡­ my mom''s, before she passed. Like I said, the first floor consisted of four rooms on the right and left, connected through vents to a bigger room in the back, which was locked. I was told the first day that it was a boiler room and that there was no reason to go there, and¡­ well, who was I to argue with that?


    So, I counted with seven patients and only two assistants, so it really was up to me to figure out what was wrong. I remember¡­ not a single night of full rest since the moment I set foot inside that building.


    "Was it that much work?"


    For three people? You have no idea. Categorizing a new disease¡­ it''s something that takes months, even with a full team of medical researchers. I was a fresh graduate. A brilliant one, yes, but still just one person. But¡­ I guess that''s not entirely the reason I worked myself half to death every single day.


    You see¡­ our patients were getting worse. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. And my job¡­ I mean, even if I managed to categorize the disease, that didn''t guarantee I''d be able to find a cure, or even that a cure might exist. From the moment I accepted the job I knew deep down that all seven of these people might just die of some external factor before I could cure them. I understood that.


    But¡­ part of me refused to accept it, I guess. Part of me thought that, if I worked hard enough, I could¡­


    [Podvig looks down at his raised hand for a moment, then shakes his head and lets it fall to the table, sighing.]


    Well, I couldn''t. It''s pointless to think of what-ifs. Though I feel like, had I been given a bit more time, I could have gotten closer to the truth at least.


    [He looks up and me and leans forward against the table.]


    Like I said, this disease was¡­ odd. Previous studies had come to the conclusion that it wasn''t transmitted by air, blood, saliva or any other bodily fluid. We figured the cause must have been environmental. It was the only plausible explanation, considering all the infected had been neighbors.


    "But I''m guessing you were unable to find said cause?"


    ¡­Yeah. Then again, that''s the problem with environmental diseases, the cause could be literally anything. Rusty water pipes, hidden Pokemon remains, moldy house-paint, badly-processed ham, toxic fertilizer¡­


    Suffice to say I spent most of my time walking around the neighborhood over and over, leaving no stone unturned, checking every little nook and cranny. Then, when I found something, I''d bring it back with me and have it examined, which could take up to a week for something that brought no results anyway.


    "Wait. You¡­ went and checked yourself?"


    Yes, though I obviously wore a protective suit each time. Which was convenient, if hard to move around in.


    "I just figured¡­ that might be the kind of work one would assign to their assistants."


    [Podvig takes a few seconds to reply, looking down at his hands then up at me.]


    They were busy taking care of the patients. And I¡­ I didn''t like to be inside that building for long. It brought¡­ well, you can imagine what it brought in me.


    "I understand. I''m sorry."


    You shouldn''t be. But thanks.


    [He picks up his teacup and examines it closely for a moment, absentmindedly. Like he''s wondering if it''s worth it to get up and refill it just to have something to do with his hands and mouth.]


    I don''t need to tell you none of my work bore fruit. You already know that. But I should at least tell you how everything started to go wrong.


    One day, we noticed something that at first we thought must have been an anomaly, but later in observation turned out to be a pattern. Like I said, I kept myself quite busy, and my two assistants were no slouches themselves. All in all, there wasn''t much time to be with the patients. We made sure to check up on them a few times a day, of course. Polite chats and warm smiles to remind them that we were still there, still trying to help them, but not much more than that.


    Then our two oldest patients, Anton and Sophie, got better over the course of a few days.


    "You mean their mood and memory and all that improved?"


    Yes. They seemed more lively, more attentive, more willing to do things on their own than before. Then, during a routine check-up, we noticed that the dark skin discoloration in their chest and arms had receded somewhat.


    I was¡­ well, not excited, not in the constant state of exhaustion and anxiety I was in, but definitely curious. Was the disease receding? Maybe the immune system was driving it off? No, that wouldn''t have made much sense if the ones getting better were the two oldest patients. A later test confirmed it. Their immune systems were working as normal.


    I asked my assistants if there''d been any changes the days before. They said no, it''d all been pretty much the same. I pressed them again, asking them to think of anything that might have affected the patients, and after a while of them thinking, I had my answer.


    Apparently, one of the days before, the two of them had finished the work I''d assigned them a lot faster than expected. And I mean, with their shift still on and not much to do¡­


    "They chose to spend time with those two patients?"


    Their plan had been to hang out with all of them, actually. The patients were allowed to roam the halls, talk amongst themselves and go wherever they wanted as long as they didn''t leave the building, but as time went on and their sickness progressed, fewer of them chose to do so. My assistants thought it''d be nice to bring them all together for tea, snacks and a little talk. Something to chase off the monotony, you know?


    Unfortunately, only Anton and Sophie were willing. The others gave vague excuses like pain or exhaustion or just¡­ flat out didn''t answer, and it''s not like they could be dragged off and forced to socialize if they didn''t want to.


    In any case, from what my assistants told me, it was a pleasant evening. Nothing life-changing. There were no heart to hearts or emotional breakdowns, just a nice chat amongst friends with accompanying tea and cookies and Sophie''s Ditto changing into a bunch of stuff to entertain its guests.


    And yet¡­ it was enough. Enough to help.


    My understanding of the disease changed significantly at that point. Was their small recovery somehow tied with their state of mind? I mean, yes, mind over matter and all that, but a bit of improvement to their mood shouldn''t have made the skin discoloration decrease if it weren''t directly related to the cause itself. Still, I couldn''t make much sense of it. Were we dealing with a neurological disease? An infection? If so, how come it affected only the mental state and the color of the skin? What relation was there between the two?


    As a development, it raised more questions than it answered, but it was something.


    "Did you try implementing more socializing amongst the patients?"


    In a way. The three of us couldn''t divert too much time from our work to hang out with them, and forcing them to socialize with each other might have been counterintuitive. So I decided to call the people I thought would be best for the job.


    [He stops for a few seconds. Hands wringing, he looks down and swallows.]


    I thought¡­ well, what better way to improve their mood than to have them see their loved ones?


    "You mean family?"


    For those who had family, yes. Friends or spouses for those who didn''t. I called them and told them my theory; asked if they could come by and visit somewhat regularly, to test the effect it''d have on them. Of course, I assured them there was no risk of infection, that they could wear protective suits while in here if they so wished. It¡­ I mean, it sounds like a good idea when I say it out loud, doesn''t it? Of course these people would be more than happy to contribute to their loved ones getting better, right?


    "Were they¡­ not?"


    I¡­ somewhat.


    [He keeps wringing his hands. I can tell he''s getting more and more uncomfortable.]


    Things were fine at first. Their loved ones came, they spent some time with the patients, the patients got better. I thought I could have that pattern continue until I could fully categorize the disease, but¡­ that was just me being na?ve.


    That was the mistake that might''ve cost all those people their life. It''s a mistake I might have not made if I''d actually gotten some experience as a doctor before heading to Wysteria.


    Tell me, have you ever had to deal with a slowly-dying loved one?


    [I pause for a second, gaze frozen on my notepad, then slowly look up at him. I take a few seconds before replying.]


    "¡­Not slowly, no."


    It''s¡­ I honestly don''t know how to describe it. Crushing might be the best word. But not like something extremely heavy falling on top of you, more like¡­ a constant weight. A weight which keeps getting heavier and heavier as you go along.


    "No offence, but that sounds like a pretty disrespectful way to refer to someone who''s dying."


    Please, don''t misunderstand me. I''m not trying to say they are some sort of burden, you can trust me on that. In fact, they are usually the ones carrying the heaviest weight. Those who have to endure the most.


    And it is people like us, like those patients'' loved ones, that are unable to do the same most of the time.


    Like I said, I was na?ve back then. But I''ve seen it time and time again ever since. When a patient is hospitalized, someone who cannot leave, someone who keeps getting worse and worse until it is clear they will most likely die on that hospital bed... it''s not easy. Not for them, not for their loved ones, not for their doctors.


    Hope and optimism are abundant at first. The patients are visited constantly, and are usually reassured with a firm smile and a confident tone. Then, as time goes by and improvement eludes them¡­ things change. About a third of them start coming less regularly, and even when they do it''s clear they don''t want to be there. They don''t want to suffer at such a horrible sight. Another third keeps up the rate of visits, but like the last group, their mood¡­ dwindles. There''s more tears. If it''s a big family, fights might start breaking down. It reaches the point where they might start doing more damage by being there than if they were absent.


    Then there''s those who never stop visiting, never stop smiling, never stop hoping. They put on a brave face in the vain hope that it might scare away the specter of death they see gleaming from behind their loved one''s eyes. But¡­ don''t kid yourself. They don''t suffer any less than the other two thirds. I''d say they actually suffer more, they just know how to hide it.


    Those who came to visit my patients¡­ they were of the first and second sort, I''m afraid.


    "You sound bitter."


    I am. But not toward them; toward myself. Even though I''m aware we were all being manipulated, it''s hard not to¡­ feel regret.


    Things started going downhill. The initial improvement in the patients'' wellbeing couldn''t counteract the massive drop that followed soon after. Some loved ones stopped visiting after the first few times, or they kept visiting but very sporadically. Others came, but¡­ you could tell at a glance their presence would not make things better for anyone. No matter how much everyone tried to keep their spirits up, in the end it as a battle of attrition none of them could win.


    Not everyone can defiantly smile at death for that long.


    "I don''t see how their suffering could compare in any way to that of the patients. All they had to do was keep visiting and at least pretend to smile. I''m sure it must''ve been hard, but the alternative was clearly much worse."


    It''s... a lot more common than you think. I''ve seen it time and time again ever since, even from the best of people. But it''s also possible you''re right. It''s possible I''m just trying to make excuse for those kinds of people because that''s exactly what I ended up doing in the end. Maybe I wouldn''t be so quick to forgive those people if I hadn''t been in their shoes.


    In any case, what happened... it''s something I''m content with taking full responsibility for. I should have known better. It''s our job, as doctors, to stare death in the face and keep it at bay, not that of the patients or their loved ones. It''s a burden we sign up for when we take on the job. To thrust it on people who were already suffering so much¡­


    If I''d chosen not to go through with that plan, maybe I would''ve had enough time. The patients'' decline would have continued, but at a steady, controllable pace. But dangling that hope over them, that semblance of the life they''d been stripped by, then having it be taken away¡­ it accelerated their decline immensely.


    Before, we knew of the disease''s limits, of what it could and couldn''t do. We thought that as long as we kept a close eye on all patients, what happened to my mother wouldn''t repeat.


    But then, as it worsened, the disease changed.


    The patients had already stopped leaving their room voluntarily. They rarely smiled or cried or showed any recognizable type of emotion. They barely remembered themselves and those around them. Like the disease was sucking the soul out of them. It was... haunting. Wrong. I knew these people, I knew how they smiled, how they laughed, how strong they''d always been because that''s what they needed to be. It''s what I couldn''t be. But now, I could barely recognize them. It w-was just... cruel. I couldn''t have imagined how things could have gotten any worse.


    Then came the screams.


    Anton was the first. I was getting ready to clock out when I heard him scream bloody murder from inside his room. We rushed to him as fast as we could and found him hollering and thrashing about on his bed like he was being tortured, but¡­ there was nothing. It was just him, alone.


    We had to sedate him so we could examine what was wrong with him. A few seconds after, the smell hit me. It hit all of us.


    I don''t think I could describe it with words. It wasn''t foul or nauseating like you''re probably thinking, more¡­ bitter. Strong. You know the smell of burnt tissue? Imagine that, but¡­ cold.


    It was the dark markings. Over those past few weeks they''d been spreading all throughout the patients'' bodies, but the day before¡­ they''d stopped. Stayed in place. I''d hoped t was a sign that the disease was spreading itself too thin, but again, that was na?ve of me. It''d only stop spreading because it was intending to change its nature.


    What we thought was a simple skin discoloration had quickly mutated into full-blown necrosis.


    "Necrosis? You mean the skin cells started dying?"


    The skin, then everything underneath. In Anton''s case it meant much of his arms and legs, as well as parts of his stomach, pancreas and lungs. The necrosis didn''t penetrate deep enough to cause mortal injury. Only to destabilize the patient and cause¡­ what I imagine must have been a staggering amount of pain.


    But knowing that Anton wasn''t about to die didn''t exactly calm my nerves. It did the opposite, actually. It was at that point that I became aware of just how in over my head I actually was. The following minutes were¡­ chaos. I know because I can barely remember them. I wasn''t prepared. I doubt even the most experienced of doctors would''ve been, yet there I was.


    Funny thing about necrotic wounds, by the way. They don''t heal on their own. So before we could even think about what was happening, we needed to remove all necrotic tissue so that the body could start to heal.


    "I thought necrotic tissue was usually removed surgically, but I''m guessing you didn''t have the resources to¡­"


    There wasn''t any need, though you''re right in that we didn''t have access to that kind of equipment, nor a surgeon. There are plenty of other ways to deal with necrotic tissue that don''t involve surgery though, and thankfully we counted with a Pokemon that is commonly used in hospitals for that kind of treatment. Sophie''s Ditto. We ran over and asked her if we could borrow it, though she could barely muster a response. We then took it to Anton''s room and placed it on top of his wounds, telling Ditto to absorb the dead cells and then spit them out.


    We managed to get rid of all the dead tissue, though that did little to put us at ease. There was¡­ silence, though. The sedatives we gave him would last for a few more hours, so for a while the three of us just stood there around his sleeping body, breathing hard and staring each other down, like we expected one of us to say something reassuring or at least try to come up with an explanation to what the hell had just happened.


    In the end I cleared my throat and told them to check on the other patients while I stayed by Anton''s side and¡­ thought about what to do next. I was sure everyone in the building had heard the screams. And if I was right and the disease got worse as the patients'' moods did¡­ then this couldn''t mean anything good.


    I stayed in that room the whole night. Sitting next to Anton not because of any specific reason but because I didn''t know if I was in the right mental space to even go back to my apartment. Then, first thing in the morning, I called my employers and told them I was quitting.


    "Just like that?"


    There''s nothing else I could''ve done. Whatever this disease was, whatever was happening to these people¡­ I couldn''t help them. I was way in over my head. I told them so and asked them to send someone to replace me, or failing that to at least transfer the patients to a proper medical facility. But¡­ they couldn''t help us. Not fast enough at least.


    They told me they could look into hiring a more specialized group of medical experts, but it would take some time. And as for transferring the patients¡­ they couldn''t do that. Even with the evidence we''d gathered, there wasn''t concrete, 100% proof that the disease couldn''t spread from person to person and Wysteria''s hospitals weren''t outfitted for quarantine-level threats.


    However¡­ they told me they''d still accept my leave if I wished to go through with it. No hard feelings. My two assistants would keep taking care of the patients until they could get a hold of other medical experts. I could just¡­ leave, if I really wanted to.


    ¡­You know, they could''ve just ordered me to stay there and keep working unless I wanted to face legal repercussions, and it wouldn''t have been as effective.


    "You had to stay. You couldn''t just abandon them."


    [Podvig laughs bitterly.]


    Don''t say it like it was kind of me. I could''ve left and put it all behind me or I could''ve fully thrown myself in and spent as much time as I could with the patients, supporting them whatever way I could, until someone else came to help. Instead I chose to do neither. I kept drowning myself in work while things kept getting worse around me.


    I couldn''t live with the fact that I was the kind of person who''d have rather leave those people to rot while I relished in blissful ignorance, but I couldn''t bring myself to face it either. In the end, it''s like I didn''t choose anything at all.


    [He shrugs with heavy shoulders.]


    At that point the fight was already lost. We let the disease get enough momentum that it didn''t matter what we did next; we couldn''t stop it.


    "Did the rest of the patients suffer from the same?"


    Yes, but that wasn''t the worst of it. Their discolorated skin would mutate to necrotic tissue, we would clean it out but then more spots would pop out elsewhere in their body, and the cycle would repeat. It was madness. It didn''t make any sense biologically, but what could we do? Help wasn''t coming. Almost all the patients'' loved ones had stopped visiting and the last time one of them had come, they''d passed out from shock and horror just moments after entering the room.


    I won''t describe what the constant spread of necrotic tissue did to them. You don''t deserve that. But I''m not talking about how their bodies looked, or how the room stank like cold rotten flesh or anything of that sort. Sometimes bodies fall apart in the most twisted of ways and there''s nothing inherently wrong or unnatural about it, it''s just life. That, we had trained for. That we were ready for.


    What we weren''t ready for was what the disease did, deep down, to these people.


    Having their weak cries and wails echo through the rooms of the building while we could do nothing but try to ease the pain was¡­ horrible. Indescribably so. But do you know what was much worse? Having those wails be replaced with silence.


    At some point, one after the other, they just¡­ stopped complaining. Stopped struggling. They weren''t in a daze or a coma or anything. They were just¡­ done. They would lay on their bed and look up blankly at the ceiling, resigned, as their bodies slowly rotted away from the inside.


    That was the worst part, I think. The disease never killed them on its own, even with the necrosis. It always stopped just before doing serious damage to any system or organ. It just¡­ hurt them. Tortured them as much as possible without putting them in danger of death. Like it didn''t want them to die at all.


    At least not by its hand.


    [Podvig shakes his head and looks down, chest deflating.]


    Funny how it''s always us who get the short end of the stick, eh?


    "..."


    You said they didn''t choose us because they had a grudge against us, but that doesn''t change the fact they specifically targetted people who weren''t native to Wysteria. Maybe that''s the kinda people they needed for their experiment. But still, magic or no magic, excuse or no excuse, funny how outsiders like us are always the one being hurt like this. Funny how even in the realm of the fantastical we can never seem to catch a break.


    "I... apologize if what I said before came off as me trying to excuse their actions in any way. That is not what I meant at all."


    It''s alright. From what I''ve read in your website, I doubt there''s anyone in the planet who hates these people as much as you do, and who is as dedicated to bringing them down.


    "Still... I''m sorry."


    Yeah. So am I.


    Those following days... I''d say it was hell, but in all honesty, it was more like purgatory. A never-ending, never-changing state of miserable, pointless suffering. At some points during those weeks, I began to think that might''ve actually been the case.


    I could barely remember why I''d come to Wysteria or what I''d planned to do afterwards. Couldn''t remember what I was working towards. Calls to my employers kept being hand waved, those to my patients'' loved ones kept being ignored. The few times I left the building and headed back to my apartment, I don''t remember seeing any person or Pokemon sharing the street with me. Inside my room, despite knowing full well that it couldn''t be the case, I couldn''t get the idea out of my head that I was the only person living in that entire building.


    Everything was still, cold. Unchanging. Even when I was with my assistants, it felt like we were each talking to the other from opposite ends of a long, narrow tunnel. They didn''t feel real, didn''t feel like they were actually there. When I looked at them all I saw were blurry figures, like shadows in a heat haze.


    The only thing in the world that felt truly real was the presence of my patients behind the walls surrounding me. Whatever was going on inside them, it felt like it echoed off every surface of the building. It wasn''t anger or pain or sadness. It felt more like¡­ a tenseness. Impatience. Like when a string is stretched to its limits, the moment before it snaps, except¡­ the moment never came. We were trapped in the moment before it, and deep down knew it wouldn''t change unless someone did something about it.


    [He stops for a moment, then shakes his head and smiles as he looks up at me.]


    Sounds like a pretty flowery and convoluted way of saying I wanted my own patients to die, doesn''t it?


    "I¡­"


    I won''t try to justify myself. I was just¡­ exhausted. Wrung out. I wanted it to end, even if I had to make it so myself. Funny that, no? I was arguably the one suffering less in that entire building, yet I was the first one to crack. Speaks volumes about the kind of person I was.


    I''d already tried to subtly discuss the possibility with the patients'' families¡­ those who had family, that is. But of course they refused. Part of me wanted to feel bitter; first they refused to come visit them and then they chastised me for wanting to put an end to their suffering? But¡­ no, it wasn''t their fault. Dealing with this was my responsibility. When you give a loved one to a doctor, you do so expecting them to do everything in their power to help them. In that regard, I wasn''t much different from them. I''d broken under the pressure.


    Still, there were two¡­ Anton and Sophie. The ones that had suffered necrosis first. They were in the worst state out of all of them; you could barely call them living anymore.


    And they didn''t have families, at least not in Kanto. I''d been given the role of their legal guardian. I could make medical decisions on their behalf once they were unable to make them, which was now the case.


    [I look up from my notepad to Podvig, brow furrowing.]


    "Last I checked, guardianship doesn''t give you the legal means to perform euthanasia on a patient, no matter what state they''re in. In Kanto, at least."


    This is something you''ve checked before, then?


    "¡­"


    Right, sorry.


    But yes, I am, and was, aware of that. But do you really think I cared? My future, whatever might happen to me, it''s like those notions didn''t exist. In that moment, I truly did believe that there''d never been anything in my life except that building and my dying patients. Legality wasn''t a concern.


    I just wanted it to end.


    "¡­How did you do it, then? I can''t imagine you had the drugs commonly used for euthanization."


    No, but we had morphine, and lots of it. All sent by my employers. To be used sparingly and only in order to help with immense pain.


    ¡­Yeah, Right.


    All it''d been good for so far was to delay the inevitable. But now, it''d help me selfishly put an end to this. Not to their suffering, but to mine. Mercy was on my mind when I did what I did, but it was far from what really drove me to it.


    I¡­ chose to stay in the building that night. Told my assistants I was too tired to walk back to my apartment, that I could look over the patients and that they should head back and get a good night''s sleep. I barely heard their reply. Like I was listening from far, far away. But it didn''t matter, as they left a few minutes later, and I got to work.


    [It''s hard to keep the clear discomfort I feel as it seeps into my voice.]


    "Tell me at least you asked for his consent."


    Of course I did. But don''t think better of me. It wasn''t because it was the right thing to do, I only did it so I could justify it to myself. So I could at least pretend this wasn''t about me and was instead about my patients. But even the reply I got was...


    [He shakes his head, unable to find the words.]


    I won''t burden you with the details. It was quick. I stood next to Anton as he slipped into a morphine overdose and watched like in a trance as he quickly fell to his own death.


    And that''s when it happened.


    I don''t know what I expected to feel. Relief? Sadness? Disgust at myself? Even then, I didn''t have much time to reflect on what I''d done. The moment Anton died, something happened.


    The light in the room went out. I was plunged into complete darkness and yet, somehow, I thought I could see something in front of me. Right where Anton''s wide, dead eyes were, I swear I saw a¡­ gleam or flicker of some kind. Like the spark that comes out of a lighter before flame erupts.


    A second later, I heard the sound of something catching ablaze in the boiler room. Then an explosion tore through the building, and I lost consciousness for what felt like a whole minute.


    When I came back to myself, it was¡­


    [Podvig takes a few seconds to continue, trying to find the words.]


    I don''t know. I don''t know what it was. The room was bright with the flames licking up the walls and ceiling and I could swear their crackling sounded like snapping bones. My mind couldn''t process what was happening so my body moved on its own. I ran and kicked the burning door open before jumping through it, but I needn''t have bothered. The rest of the building was burning too.


    It was like a surreal dream. Sometimes I still think it couldn''t have been real, right up until I look in the mirror.


    Every wall, every door, every room and every inch of the ceiling was burning with bright, almost white flames that somehow produced no smoke. They licked at the edges of the building and grew, slowly crawling through the floor toward me. The heat was¡­ unreal. Despite the absence of smoke I could barely take a breath and every time I did it felt like my lungs were being cooked from the inside.


    I had to find a way out. I had to run through the flames and get to the front door and¡­


    And that''s when I heard the voice behind me. A woman''s voice, coming from the burning insides of the boiler room. It sounded cold and uncaring.


    ''You certainly took your time,'' it said. ''But I guess all''s well that ends well.''


    I slowly turned around and found myself face to face with the woman from the bus, the one I hadn''t seen ever since I arrived at Wysteria. She was¡­ different. Her clothes were slowly burning away and both her skin and hair looked like they were partly made of flames themselves. And¡­


    And she was holding something between her hands. Some sort of¡­ ornament? No, it was like one of those fancy chandeliers made of crystal and black iron. I wouldn''t learn until much later that it was actually the husk of a Pokemon native to Unova; a Chandelure. One whose flame had been snuffed away.


    A flame this woman had probably taken for herself.


    A second after I noticed it, she grabbed it with one hand and threw it casually behind her. I heard the sound of crystal shattering. Then she took a deep, relaxed breath like she was breathing fresh air and shone me a quick, dispassionate smile.


    ''Thank you for your help,'' she said. ''But it''s all right. You can rest now.''


    Then the flames eating away at the building flared up, and¡­ nothing.


    "N¡­nothing?"


    I don''t remember what happened after that. Next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed, weeks after the fact, about ninety percent of my body unrecognizable from the burns. I''d¡­ survived, somehow. The only one who did. Official story was that there''d been a malfunction in the boiler room which had caused an explosion and then a fire.


    I guess I should''ve gone with that story, try to preserve my sanity and other''s beliefs in it. Instead, I tried to tell everyone the truth, and look what that got me. My medical license was revoked because they thought my psyche had been compromised, and even after moving to a different city I''m still known as the burnt man who''s completely out of his mind.


    ¡­Still. It could''ve been worse. I could have died back there.


    And¡­ the rest, as they say, is history. I doubt you''re interested in me recounting what happened after I left Wysteria.


    [We sit across each other in silence for almost a minute. I want to say something, but I can feel my gut ablaze and my head spinning with the information I''ve just learned.


    But that''s no excuse, really.]


    "For whatever it''s worth¡­ I''m sorry."


    Thank you, Tulip.


    "Would you like me to¡­ would you like to know? The truth. Who those responsible were and why they did what they did? I feel like it''s only fair to¡­"


    No, that''s fine.


    "Are you sure?"


    Yes. I didn''t agree to this interview to help myself move on or anything like that. I agreed to help you. Because I knew this information would be useful to you. I''m¡­ alright, as I am. Despite what it might look like, I''m happy with my life. I''ve moved on. I''ve accepted that what I did was horrible, but that I never would''ve done so if I hadn''t been pushed that far by the powers that be, as it were.


    So no, I don''t want nor need the truth. I just want to enjoy what''s left of my life, if that''s okay with you.


    "¡­Of course. I understand."


    [Podvig smiles, though it''s only clear by his eyes.]


    It''s not too late for you either, you know.


    "¡­Thanks. But someone has to do what I''m doing."


    I don''t doubt that. But there''s no harm in looking forward to a future where things are better, even if you don''t think you''ll ever experience it.


    "I think I''d rather not get my hopes up."


    Well¡­ if you say so.


    But if you ever feel like you could do with a break from all this¡­ I''d be more than happy to brew you another cup of tea.


    [I try to smile back, but my lips feel like they''ve forgotten the gesture. After a few seconds, I just nod.]


    "Thanks. I''ll keep it in mind."


    <hr>


    [The recorder buzzes to life once again.]


    Tulip here. We''re still on our way to Vermillion.


    "Boy are we ever."


    [Tulip pauses, takes a deep, slow breath, then continues.]


    This interview clearly depicts the process through which the Fourth Stigma, with the Sixth''s help, came into possession of her¡­ abilities. It seems her Blossoming involved not only the demise of a Pokemon, but also that of seven other people. I do believe Podvig''s mother was originally supposed to serve as a sacrifice as well, but she died in an unrelated incident before she could suffer that fate.


    I do have some theories about the significance of these sacrifices and what they mean in relation to what the Fourth ''inherited'', so to speak, but I''d rather wait until I have more information on the matter.


    Still, this is by far one of the most fruitful interviews, in terms of information. Now that I know more about the Fourth, it''ll be easier to find a way to kill her.


    In any case. There is another interview, which I''m sure I''ll have the time to post and analyze before we make it to Wysteria, s¨C


    "Let''s be honest. You could probably post about a dozen in the time it''ll take us to get there."


    [There''s silence for a moment. The recorder creaks against Tulip''s forceful grip, and for only a moment she tries to breathe deep and control herself.


    It doesn''t work.]


    Okay, you know wh¨C!?


    [The recording cuts off.]

 Fragment #7: Sympathy

    [The recorder crackles to life. Lynne speaks amidst the faded, distant sound of an urban setting.]


    Hello. Er¡­ Lynne here.


    Tulip relegated the task of recording the intro to the following interview this time. We reached Vermillion and stayed in a hotel for the night, intending to leave today, but it seems she had some business to take care of first. Something about an¡­ acquaintance of hers that lives here. Good with computers, apparently. Said that she couldn''t get in touch with her through the internet, but she might as well check if she''s still here, considering we''re in the neighborhood.


    Curious how insistent she was on calling her an acquaintance, not a friend. Though knowing her¡­


    [Lynne sighs, shifting in place]


    Regardless. I''m hiding in a dark alley behind a large skip so I can record this in peace. Didn''t think I''d find people louder and more obnoxious Cerulean''s lot, but here we are. I''d say Kantans are way too chipper and energetic for their own good, but as dear Tulip shows, that''s not always the case.


    [There''s a moment of silence.]


    And I''ve just realized she has to listen to this later, so she''ll hear me insult her. Oh well. Not bothering to do this twice. Besides, those grievances had already been aired¡­ plenty of, actually.


    Maybe that''s partly why she''s gone looking for this¡­ acquaintance. Maybe she needs to talk to someone, anyone who''s not me right now. As if I''ve asked to get roped into all this nonsense¡­


    [Lynne stops, taking in a deep breath.]


    No, enough of that. Just get this over with.


    Right¡­ what did Tulip tell me to say? Oh, yeah. The following interview is one she''s been debating whether to post or not, but in the end she decided it couldn''t possibly make things worse, so here we are. Transcription lies below.


    Enjoy. Or not. What do I care?


    <hr>


    [I must admit, an interview taking place inside a bar is a first for me, though you won''t see me complain. It''s killing two Pidgey with one stone, you could say.


    The waitress leaves our drinks on the table and shines me a kind smile before leaving. I take a sip of my gin tonic, letting its refreshing taste linger in my mouth. My interviewee downs about half her glass of bourbon in one chug, closing her eyes tightly as it passes through her, then seems to deflate onto her seat with a heavy sigh. I have a feeling that glass will be the first of many tonight.


    This is, yet again, one of Marie''s leads. Shizue Kurashiki, current owner of the Kantan branch of Goldenrod Radio located in what used to be Lavender tower, as well as producer for many of its most famous and influential radio dramas. From what I understand, she is not a native of Wysteria but lived in the town for a total of six months before moving back to Johto, shortly before the townsfolk''s mysterious disappearances.


    She looks exactly like one would picture the head of a production company. The kind of woman to wear a suit for all occasions, though never one that would make her appear ''too professional''. Someone who is very deliberate about her image¡­ in public, at least.


    Part of me is inclined to immediately distrust her, yet there''s something behind her eyes that is hard to miss. Emptiness. Sorrow. The kind that could easily be mistaken for calmness and level-headedness.


    She finishes drinking the rest of her glass and orders another before starting the interview.]


    I suppose we should make one thing clear before we start.


    [Her voice is surprisingly soft. I fully expect to be threatened, however¡­]


    I read your website. All your entries. I know¡­ everything that happened, why you''re here, what could happen if you¡­ if I tell you all this.


    "If it makes you feel any better, I''ve tried my best to keep in contact with all my previous interviewees, and disregarding Monika, all of them are still alive and well. Mostly."


    That''s not what I mean. I¡­ don''t really care what happens to me. But I have a family, you understand. Well¡­ a daughter. If you went with what I''m about to tell you to the press¡­ or if one of your few readers were to make this entry go viral¡­ I''m quite confident my career would be over. Gone in a flash.


    "Why did you agree to the interview, then?"


    Hah. I''m¡­ not entirely sure, to be honest. To get this out of my chest, maybe? As a way to atone for what I did? Maybe part of me wants to get caught, wants people to know the truth. I''ve already left quite a substantial will to my daughter should anything happen to me, so it''s not out of the question that my better half is trying to sabotage me.


    Still, I''m sure I''ll need a few more shots of liquid courage before I can get to the heavy stuff. That''s why I chose this place. It''s one of the most niche bars I know in Lavender, and one of the most peaceful too. And it''s open sky; what more could you want, really? I always come here when I need to think. Or right before I''m about to take really stupid decisions.


    Anyway¡­ I guess you want me to start from the beginning?


    [I give her a nod as confirmation, and Ms. Kurashiki sighs and takes another big sip of her bourbon before continuing.]


    I was¡­ 18 the first time I visited Wysteria. My father''s job as manager of a trading company meant that we often traveled to small towns like that one for¡­ y''know, business. Dad always took me with him because he wanted me to learn. Never pressured me to succeed him, though. He always said I could specialize in whatever I wanted as long as I took his teachings to heart. And I did.


    We were both taken in by the town the first time we saw it. It was¡­ quaint, small. But my father and I had that special kind of eye that let us know when a certain place had an intrinsic value to it that wasn''t immediately obvious. There was something about Wysteria. Something in the unnatural peace and quiet. In the stormy grey eyes of all its residents. Something¡­ alluring.


    We visited the place a few more times in the following years, but as time passed I was less and less able to accompany my father, seeing as I''d started college in Goldenrod. I was serious about my education, so I couldn''t waste much time with traveling.


    "What degree did you choose?"


    Media Studies and Communications. A very recent addition to the curriculum, mind you, but I''d known for a long time that''s what I would specialize in. There''s just¡­ something about the entertainment industry, you know. The work, the ethics, the insistence of pushing everything aside for your own passion.


    There was no room for failure in the industry. You either made it or you were the rubble that got pushed under the rug. I couldn''t help but find that sort of environment¡­ exciting. It felt like just the right place for me.


    [I try my best to hide the look of disgust on my face. Luckily, Shizue is too busy taking another gulp of her glass to notice.]


    Back then I was very taken in by what Unovans now call the ''New Wave''. It was a sort of renaissance of entertainment for them. By the time I graduated it of course had been more than a few years, but it was still unmistakable that Unova''s obsession with radio production as well as the early phase of them dipping their toes in the television industry would set the tone for an entire generation of worldwide entertainment. I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to start the boom of radio dramas here in Kanto by creating my own production company.


    Father was all right with it, of course. He was a fan of the media himself. But he made it clear that he wanted to¡­ test me, so to speak, before he let me stray free of his company''s shadow and spread my own wings. And, once I graduated, that''s exactly what he did.


    I was 24, a fresh graduate, when he proposed it to me. He would help me jump start my career, but first I would have to prove that I had what it takes to make it in the Sharpedo-infested waters that was the business atmosphere of the time. Things were rough back then, you understand. Between Lorelei''s reforms and the subsidizing of so many of our region''s industries by the government, the soil wasn''t quite as fertile as a businesswoman like me would''ve liked.


    But that was just part of the challenge, my father told me. And I, of course, couldn''t agree more.


    "What was this¡­ proposal?"


    It was simple, really. My father would loan me a¡­ generous but still limited amount of money. My task was to set up shop in one of Kanto''s many small towns or settlements and start building my brand, putting all I''d learned into practice. In only six months, I had to quadruple the amount of money my father had given me. If I succeeded, he would share a great portion of his company''s assets with me. If I failed¡­ I would be on my own.


    I don''t need to tell you that I accepted. I''ve always loved a good challenge.


    "I assume the small town you chose to set up shop in was¡­"


    Right you are. I said before that I''ve always been taken in by Wysteria. Not only did the town possess an inherent sense of personality but it was right in the middle between Vermillion and Fuchsia, so I had a lot to work with, you could say.


    I arrived in Wysteria shortly after accepting the challenge, and rented a small space that was more a warehouse than an apartment. A week later, I had all the radio equipment I needed. Come sunrise on that beautiful Saturday morning, Wysteria A.M. was born.


    "I was under the impression that the town only had one radio station."


    They only had one inter-state line, yes, but I figured I''d start by transmitting only around town first. And it''s not like I was the only one. There were plenty of local radio programs, and not just for the news or weather. You''re a native, aren''t you? Shouldn''t you know this?


    "I¡­ didn''t have a radio growing up. Never cared much for them."


    You''re missing out.


    [She finishes her second glass and signals the waitress for another one. I can see a hint of pink start to form on her cheeks.]


    I started with something simple, something people could listen to on the background while they went about their homely lives. A simple talk show called Morning''s Eve. Why the name? Well, it aired every Saturday morning and I got a girl called Eve to be the host, so it only made sense. She was a real sweetheart. Barely graduated high school yet she had a nice voice that was just the right amount of sweet to be alluring, yet not overtly distracting. I met her thanks to her aunt Linda, who was both a good friend of Father and one of my new drinking buddies.


    Anyway, things went well¡­ for a time. People were tuning into the show, we received a good number of calls every time it aired, people recognized Eve on the street which served as great marketing¡­ it was nice. Unfortunately, my earnings weren''t exactly up to previous expectations.


    No matter, though. I decided to wait a few more weeks before I added another show to the station. This time, I went with something a bit more specific, yet still alluring. A radio drama about a group of high school graduates who took a weekend trip to the forest near Wysteria, and ended up getting chased and harassed by a mysterious, terrifying creature. I wrote the script and Eve recruited a few of her classmates to act the whole thing out.


    It was a pretty big success as well. Everywhere I went, people approached and told me how much they enjoyed my shows every week, and asked me if I would add any more in the future. I couldn''t have been happier. You know what they say, there''s no better marketing than word of mouth.


    And still¡­


    "Let me guess. Earnings weren''t very high?"


    Right. It''s not like they were bad; definitely would''ve been enough to live on comfortably, but that''s not what I was there to do, y''know? I was there to win. To build a brand that would keep supporting me for the rest of my life. Taking that into consideration, it was a pretty lukewarm start.


    And unfortunately, things didn''t get much better from there.


    There were more shows, there were more hosts and listeners and revenue, but the growth just wasn''t exponential enough. I had no momentum. And in the world of business, you either have momentum or you go bust. I needed to do something. I needed to find a way to turn this around, a way to make real money with all this.


    It was¡­ during one of those drinking nights that I found the answer to my problem. I''d gone out with Linda as usual. It was a lovely summer night on one of Wysteria''s only bars, but we got by with what we had. She''d always been a slower, more refined drinker than me so of course she was still plenty sober by the time I''d downed almost an entire bottle of wine.


    I''m¡­ not sure our conversation would''ve happened if the situation had been reversed. I''d say maybe no one would''ve died if that''d been the case, but that''s not true. In the end they would''ve been caught up by what happened to everyone else in town sooner or later, so it''s not like my actions made much of a difference.


    Anyway. It was getting late and I was wholly wasted by then, which is why I started airing my concerns to Linda. She listened to me patiently as always, bless her heart. And when I told her about my financial situation compared to what I was actually supposed to be earning, I remember her eyes lit up excitedly.


    There was no¡­ malice or hidden intentions or anything, let me make that clear. Linda genuinely believed her idea would do nothing but benefit me.


    "What idea?"


    Well, you see¡­ as it turns out, Linda''s husband happened to be a man named Joseph Miller.


    "Wait¡­ Miller? As in¨C?"


    Yyyyup. Linda and Joseph are the Millers that have appeared twice so far in your little interviews. You should''ve seen my face when I found them there, you being none the wiser as to who they actually were.


    "I¡­ who were they, then?"


    In truth? Not much more than a normal, albeit rich family that had moved to Wysteria some time ago. Linda was a dentist. Her husband¡­ well, she''d always described it to me as a ''businessman''. The fact that she never specified further made me think, even back then, that there was something about his job she''d rather not speak in front of others, but I wasn''t actually expecting her to tell me straight up, especially not while I was that drunk.


    To put it simply, Joseph had dealings with an organized crime group. What some might call a ''mafia'', although back then they hadn''t quite earned such a name yet. It wasn''t his main activity, of course. He really was a businessman; or well, an accountant more specifically, but he did work for this group whenever he could, and that''s where the vast majority of his wealth came from. He wasn''t quite a part of them, but he was certainly associated with them. In the world of business, such a difference is crucial, you understand.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Is there any information you could give regarding this¡­ group? Or is telling me all this dangerous enough for you already?"


    Ah, no need to worry there. The group was¡­ forcefully disbanded a good few years ago. All thanks to the efforts of an 11-year old that was too talented for his own good, or so I''ve been told.


    [That gives me pause. I look up at Shizue and she simply nods.]


    At the time they didn''t go by the name most people know them for, of course. They were also being led by a different person; a cruel, haughty woman who loved wealth and extravagance just a bit too much. It was only later that she was succeeded by her son, who had¡­ bigger ambitions for the group. Maybe that''s why their early misdeeds are so rarely talked about.


    "And thanks to Mr. Miller you¡­ started doing business with these people?"


    You know, it''s funny. I''d had my doubts before talking to Joseph, but deep down I think I knew I''d accept his proposal anyway. I didn''t have many scruples as it was. And besides, if someone like him could work alongside these people and still have a career and a family¡­ well, how could I refuse? You have to sacrifice a few things to achieve your dream, even if one of them is your morality.


    "And you didn''t consider this cheating?"


    [She raises an eyebrow at me, looking like she''s about to laugh. I just sigh.]


    "Right. No such thing in business, I assume?"


    No comment.


    "What kind of jobs did they have for you anyway? Couldn''t have been something very public, with how known you apparently were."


    Of course, that was part of the deal beforehand.


    It was all very¡­ polite and straightforward, really. Professional, too. I know they were masquerading as an insurance company inside the town itself but they wore the disguise very well. Their main office was actually an office, with people working all day. They had accountants and mob doctors and anything else you could need for any kind of operation. They weren''t a mob of stupid thugs is what I''m saying. These guys knew what they were doing; they knew the game they were playing and how to play it.


    "I understand, you were very impressed by the murderous mafia. Could you please move on?"


    [She''s clearly taken aback by my words. She opens her mouth to say something, but then a look of guilt washes over her and she avoids my eyes.


    She signals for another drink before continuing.]


    ¡­Anyway, I started by helping them out with light, easy jobs. Things I could do in my spare time or even incorporate into my own radio show. Joseph and the Rockets both bought a good amount of my advertisement spaces from time to time, whether it be for their own "services" or for other services and products they had a personal stake in.


    Sometimes, I''d be a source of advertisement. Others, I''d be nothing more than manpower or a pair of eyes outside a door to make sure no one entered.


    Eventually though, they realized I had a few skills that''d be useful to them for more¡­ involved projects. If there''s one thing I''ve always took pride in, it''s my vocal range. I was an excellent radio host, yes, but diligence and personality had little to do with it. Whether it was a talk show or a radio drama or a news report, I always knew exactly how to speak so that others would be taken in. So that they''d keep listening. I guess you could say I had the voice of those Primarina from ancient legend that lured ships full of people to their doom with their dulcet tones. And¡­ that''s exactly what I did, eventually.


    At first sight, the new gig was nothing more than a common phone scam. They made me call certain people and offer them "the insurance opportunity of a lifetime". I didn''t connect the dots at the time, but the "victims" of the scam were always elderly citizens without many friends or family who happened to own¡­ certain patches of land inside Wysteria. Patches of land that my employers were very interested in.


    My job wasn''t to convince or seduce them into the deal or anything, it was just to get them interested. Interested enough that they''d agree to a meeting with Joseph, who was the real star of the show. He was the one that did the magic. I was never there to see it, but I''d heard he had quite a way with words and¡­ I could believe it. He was an unbelievably charismatic guy. And unlike me, he didn''t have to fake it.


    Those kinds of people¡­ the ones who have wealth and land but nothing else to accompany it¡­ you''d be surprised how desperate they are. For attention, for a real connection. For anything that''d make life¡­ worth living again, you know? Back then¡­ I was good, but I wasn''t as good as Joseph or the Rockets. I never would''ve imagined to prey on the loneliness of rich old people to trick them and¡­


    I¡­ I guess I should back up a bit.


    [She downs another half of her glass. By this point her words are starting to slide more easily.]


    Like I said, the first step was offering them an insurance deal. Nothing odd or nefarious; it was just a way for those people to meet with Joseph, and to have them sign a contract with him. They wouldn''t sign it right away. Some time needed to pass first, for Joseph to visit them more and more, to¡­ lure them into the trap of his company. To make himself well-acquainted with them so they''d want him around more and more.


    And then the contract¡­ I have to admit, whoever wrote it was a genius. The clause was there, but it was worded in such a way, and scattered throughout so much of the contract that it was almost impossible to notice at first sight.


    Long story short, the clause specified that were¡­ something to happen to the owner of the land, they may refer a "secondary contractor" to take ownership of it in their stead. And it wasn''t necessary for that person to be related to the current owner, which only made it easier.


    As a scam, it wouldn''t have worked had Joseph not managed to make them trust him so much. It wouldn''t have worked if the Rockets hadn''t set up a good number of their people as "social lawyers" whom Joseph could recommend to these people to choose as secondary contractors, always someone different, always without any obvious ties to each other. And¡­ it definitely wouldn''t have worked if I hadn''t played my part so well. Joseph might have been the Lanturn waiting for its prey, but I was the shining ball dangling above his head, acting as bait.


    [There''s a noticeable change in her demeanor. Whatever confidence and self-importance had been there before has now been washed away by the alcohol.


    Her eyes are distant and glossy. Her voice sounds strained and her smile, though still present, is full of sadness and regret.]


    "How did they end up claiming those lands? Was it done directly or¡­?"


    That''s the thing about this type of land-sharking. Because of the type of people that are usually chosen as victims, these groups can bide their time without having to be in a hurry. But the Rockets¡­ they were indeed on a hurry. Their employers wanted those specific spots of land as soon as possible, and so¡­ drastic measures needed to be taken.


    "By their employers you mean¡­"


    Yes. I took orders from Joseph, who took orders from the Rockets, who took orders from their boss. And said Boss had only moved a good part of their numbers to Wysteria because she''d been commissioned by¡­ a certain group of people. The ones behind everything. Who you call ''The Institute''.


    Of course, I only put it all together years later, when I read your entries. That''s when everything came back to me. I''d always felt this¡­ guilt over what happened, but reading it all again, and knowing that so many of these people were still alive, that those sons of bitches were still out there, getting away with it¡­


    In any case, that''s how it worked.


    "Were you ever directly part of these¡­ drastic measures they took?"


    Never¡­ directly, no. But a few times I was called to guard the outside with a few other people while it happened. Still, Joseph was the one who always got his hands dirty. He made sure I never had to be the one¡­ I know I shouldn''t be grateful or feel bad toward him, considering everything he did but¡­ at least he saved me from the worst.


    It was an easy process. No bloodshed involved. Once the contract was signed, once all these people got to know Joseph enough to trust him completely¡­ he took care of them. The trick was simple. He''d get them to start drinking with him, and when they were looking away or just drunk enough to stop paying attention, he would slip a few drops of Gloom acid into their drink.


    "¡­I see. Gloom acid is almost unmistakable from alcohol in its molecular structure."


    Yes. I''m surprised you knew that.


    "Still, it wouldn''t have been enough to cause any real harm. Gloom acid¨C"


    It works a lot like alcohol but worse, yes, I know. It attacks people''s inhibitions, their sense of balance and place and circumstances, much like some numbing drugs do. By itself it''s not terribly dangerous¡­ unless you''re around something dangerous yourself.


    The acid was just to get them¡­ docile. Easily manageable. The rest was¡­ simple.


    [Her voice starts to crack slightly.]


    Once it was inside their system, all Joseph needed to do was soak them in ice-cold water. He could dump a bucket on them or throw them into a bathtub, the method wasn''t really important. What¡­ was important though was the cold water itself. The way the acid interacts with the alcohol and the rest of the human body once its ingested¡­


    [I nod, and she seems to relax, happy that she doesn''t have to describe it.]


    "It''s common knowledge amongst those who consume Gloom acid to never expose themselves to too much cold, or they might suffer from a sudden stroke or heart attack. The chances of it go up the older you are."


    [She simply nods, unable to look up at me.]


    The money was too good to pass up. But after a while, that wasn''t really what kept me working with them. It was guilt. That''s how they get you, I think. They know that guilt makes for a tighter leash than the threat of death or the reward of money ever could. Back then I¡­ I would have honestly preferred death to the truth of what I''d been doing getting out.


    Even so, I kept myself together by remembering that my time in Wysteria was almost over. Soon, I''d leave the town and return to Father with all the money he expected from me, and then I''d be able to start a new future, one where I wouldn''t need to rely on¡­ those kinds of jobs to reach my goal.


    But¡­ I didn''t even make it there. I left a week before the day I was supposed to, and with so much more money than I expected.


    "What happened?"


    The patches of land the Rockets had acquired for their employers¡­ you should know that one of them was the lighthouse standing at the town''s shore.


    [I feel something in my chest tighten.]


    "The one that appeared in my fifth entry?"


    Yes. And not just that. They also got ownership of a few of the hangars close to it, and also an old bunker resting outside the town, in the middle of the forest.


    "You mean¡­?"


    Until I read your entries I never knew why they''d want those places. It didn''t make sense from a land-sharking perspective since they couldn''t really turn them around and sell them for a big amount. The dock hangars made sense; they were storing things in there. Contraband that came in every weekend through boat. But the lighthouse and bunker¡­


    But now I know.


    "Both those places were connected to the maze of tunnels underneath the city."


    Yes.


    "Then¡­ if they needed to get ownership of those places specifically it stands to reason that the Institute wasn''t the one who carved out those tunnels. They just knew they existed and needed to find an entrance."


    [She shrugs.]


    Maybe. I wouldn''t really know.


    "But¡­ the lighthouse was eventually destroyed. And the entrance from the bunker isn''t there anymore. Are you¡­ do you know of any more places they were interested in? Other places that might''ve had an entrance to the tunnels?"


    [She squints and looks down, trying to remember. The alcohol might be obstructing a bit the cogs inside her brain.]


    There was this one house¡­ east district of the town, near that park with the water fountain. Lunaria Park I think it was called. It was a pretty big house, very fancy. I think it''s the one Joseph and Linda used to live in. They''d bought it from the Rockets a long time ago and in the end the Rockets bought it back.


    [I frown. That must be the house from Fragment 2, the one with the hidden room and the flickering lights.]


    "Why would they sell their house back?"


    [She looks up at me and purses her lips into something that''s almost like a smile.]


    Haven''t put it together yet? It''s in one of your entries. What do you think happens next?


    "I¡­ Maes'' story. That''s what happened next, isn''t it? Were you¡­"


    [She nods solemnly. She hasn''t touched her drink in a few minutes.]


    I was there, front and center, first thing in the morning. Though of course, I didn''t know what for. They just told me to be in the docks and be ready to stand guard while they took care of business. At first I thought it''d just be more of the same, but then¡­ why the dock? Why the lighthouse? They''d already acquired this place. And¡­ where was Joseph? I hadn''t seen him yet.


    Strangest of all was that the usual Rockets that often came with me for guard duty weren''t there anymore. Instead there were these¡­ people in suits. Four of them. All wearing the same outfit with the same insignia on it. I''m¡­ sure I don''t need to tell you which.


    "No. Please continue."


    They were¡­ transporting something. It was very early, sun had barely come up. From inside the black boat resting on the waters two of the guys in suit brought back these¡­ barrels. They were big and sturdy, you could probably fit an entire person inside. And as they took the barrels inside the lighthouse¡­ I could''ve sworn I saw one of them shake a little bit.


    The two others came back with barrels too, but this time from the direction of the town. This time, I definitely saw one of them shake. A strong shake, like something slamming its body against it from the inside. I gasped. I tried to cover my mouth but it was too late. One of the women carrying the barrel turned to look at me and¡­


    I¡­ I don''t know how to describe it. Her eyes were¡­ there was something wrong with them. I could barely see them through her shades but I could''ve sworn I saw something almost like a flame gleaming behind them. Then she just¡­ smiled and nodded, then went inside the lighthouse. And when her partner came out¡­ she didn''t. She stayed inside.


    "Was this woman by any chance¡­ red-haired?"


    Kind of between a red and a pink if I remember correctly, but yeah.


    "I see. And what happened after?"


    Then¡­ the whole damn thing went up in flames.


    "The entire lighthouse?"


    All of it. I remember¡­ I remember screaming. It was instantaneous, like the entire building was the tip of a match. It was completely engulfed with these¡­ these horrible purple and black flames that didn''t emit any light but felt hotter than anything else I''d ever felt. It was¡­ like a nightmare. In that moment I felt certain that I was dreaming. I just stood there next to the other three people in suits, staring gormlessly.


    Then¡­ the flames got bigger. Stronger. I don''t¡­ remember it very clearly but I swear to Mew the cobblestones started to fucking melt. That''s when one of the men wearing suits tapped me on the shoulder. This¡­ lanky blonde guy with glasses. He smiled and told me we should start heading back before we got caught up in it.


    I couldn''t refuse or¡­ say anything. Couldn''t bring myself to ask him what the fuck was happening or what was in those barrels or why were we leaving his partner inside the lighthouse as it burned. I just¡­ nodded and followed him. Hoping that by doing so I''d wake up from this nightmare. That I''d¡­ realize none of this was real, somehow.


    But that realization never came. And then, when we were far enough away¡­ I saw the explosion in the distance. I couldn''t see the lighthouse coming down, but I could imagine it perfectly in my mind.


    They¡­ they drove me back to my apartment. I remember feeling my heart in my throat, wondering if they were gonna kill me or do something to silence me but¡­ they didn''t. That blonde man just smiled and said I''d receive a call from the Rockets tomorrow and¡­ that was it. They were gone.


    And the next morning¡­


    "The next morning, news came of the disappearance of Joseph, Linda and their son, as well as another young boy named Carlos."


    ¡­Yes. All four of them.


    Not long after, I received that call. The Rockets urged me, subtly but firmly, to leave town as soon as possible, and to never speak of what I saw to anyone. As incentive for me to follow those orders, they transferred a¡­ staggering amount of money to my account. More than enough to double what I''d come to this town for in the first place. And that was on top of what I''d already gathered before.


    And so¡­ I did. I made up some excuse as to why I had to leave and left the running of my radio station to Eve. A gift to her, for all she''d done for me. And come sundown¡­ I was on my way back home. Far away from Wysteria, with more than enough money to convince my father that my trip had been¡­ a success.


    And the rest is, I guess, history. I got his financial backing, I created my own entertainment company, I became famous all throughout the world, and now¡­ here we are.


    [She smiles sadly, raising her arms to the side. I can tell she expects me to say something but I stay quiet. After a while, she lets her shoulders drop and sighs.]


    I know. I''m a horrible person, aren''t I?


    "I think that''s a light way of putting it. You''re a coward and a monster."


    Ha¡­ rough, but fair. Are you¡­ are you going to reveal all this to the public?


    [A few more seconds pass in silence.]


    "I should. But I think I''d rather wait until my own mission is done. Otherwise, it might make things more difficult."


    I guess I should hope you fail then. But¡­ I don''t really want that. Even though I have a family and a career and everything¡­ I guess part of me wants all this to be revealed. To finally get it out of my chest even if it ends up ruining my life.


    "But because you''re a coward, you can''t do it yourself. You want someone else to do it."


    Still, the fact that I''m at least considering it¡­


    "No, that doesn''t make it better. Nothing will."


    [Her eyes narrow slightly.]


    Are you saying that no matter what I do¡­


    "Yes. At least to me, no matter what you do from now on, even if you spent the rest of your life trying to atone, it wouldn''t change anything. It wouldn''t bring back the people you helped them kill. It wouldn''t change the fact that you had a hand in what happened to Wysteria."


    You''re¡­ you''re not strained for sympathy, huh.


    "Sympathy''s earned. And people like you don''t change. Taking advantage of people to get what you want is the easiest thing in the world. It''s a road only gutless cowards take, and if I can I''m going to take down every single one of you, one at a time. So don''t worry; once I''m done with them, I''ll make sure to turn my attention toward you. In the meantime¡­"


    [I get up from the table, and I signal the waitress to bring the check.]


    "You can start by paying for our drinks."


    <hr>


    [Recorder buzzes back to life.]


    Fuck me, talk about cheery.


    Though, having read all the other entries or¡­ fragments or whatever, I can''t see myself being shocked by these things anymore.


    Depressed acceptance¡­ never thought that''d be my default state this late in life, but I guess it''s just like what Tulip said in that interview with Podvig. Shit happens, regardless of if you deserve it or not.


    [He sighs.]


    Just wish she''d have as much sympathy for us as she seems to have for all the other victims.


    ¡­


    Yeah, I know I shouldn''t whine into these, but I''m as much a part of this whole mess as she is, and she gets all the time she wants to wax philosophically, doesn''t she? Who cares if she hears this later? Her opinion of me can''t get any worse, nor vice versa.


    ¡­ I don''t hate her, like she seems to believe. I just wish she''d¡­


    I don''t know. I was going to say I wish she''d stop pretending we have a sodding chance in hell against all these monsters, but that''d be cruel of me. Can''t blame her for wanting to keep fighting ''til the end.


    Maybe I just wish I had the courage t¨C


    [Steps are heard from further down the alley. Lynne grunts in surprise and is quick to stand up. He lets out a sigh of relief once he recognizes the person approaching.]


    Oh, hey. How was it?


    "¡­She was alive, if nothing else. I won''t say it''s a relief, but our chat was certainly useful."


    Did you get¡­ whatever it was you wanted from her?


    "Yes, I¨C"


    [Tulip pauses. There''s silence for a moment.]


    "Is the recorder on?"


    Hm? Oh, yes, I was just finishing when y¨C


    "Turn it off."


    What?


    "Turn it off you goddamn id¨C!"


    [The recording cuts off.]

 Fragment #8: Only One House

    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    [A burst of static signals that the recorder''s been turned on. Only the flat sound of two pairs of steps against cement is heard for a while, accompanied by no other. No wind, no Pokemon cries in the distance. Lynne is the first to speak.]


    "Huh. Look, a car."


    Yes. Motorized vehicles, how fascinating.


    [Tulip masticates that last word as emphasis, and Lynne doesn''t make himself wait before huffing.]


    "You know that''s not what I mean. You''d think someone would have stolen it by now. Looks a tad rusty, but other than that it seems to be in perfect condition. Hm. Nice rims, too."


    [There''s a pregnant pause.]


    ¡­Are you into cars?


    "Kind of. Never could afford one, had to rely on the old Corvinight Taxi to move around. I remember I have a few magazines full of cars back home."


    Gross. Awful. Illegal.


    "¡­Yes. Motorized vehicles, how abhorrent."


    [Tulip chuckles. It''s short and she cuts it off mid-way in a failed attempt to disguise it as a cough.]


    "Would you look at that. Who''d have known all I had to do to make you laugh was repeat your own words back at you. Isn''t that narcissistic? It feels a tad narcissistic."


    What do you expect? I spend all my time around idiots, haughty older women, normal cultists, theater kid cultists, and traumatized folk. If I didn''t love myself I''d have jumped off the tallest building by now.


    "Huh. That''s kind of inspiring, in a way. Wait, which one of those am I?"


    ¡­


    [Tulip raises the recorder to her lips and starts talking in a serious voice.]


    Tulip Glasslip here. We have recently entered the abandoned town of Wysteria in the hopes of¨C


    "Oh sod off."


    [Tulip lowers the recorder, and while she doesn''t laugh, there is a sharp exhalation.]


    It was a joke. Sorry if my humor is too dry for you.


    "Right. And about as scathing as an internet comment. Why did you even turn the recorder on in the first place?"


    Because we''re finally here. I was thinking about how to start the entry when you distracted me with your car-spotting.


    "Sorry for wanting to break the silence."


    ¡­It does feel heavier in here than back in the route, doesn''t it?


    "Yeah, it''s¡­ it''s like being in a room where someone else is sleeping. Except you can''t see them."


    And you can''t hear their breathing either. Which is, in my opinion, the most unsettling of the two possibilities.


    [The pitch of Tulip''s voice changes, ever so slightly. It''s deeper, but not in the way one would associate with the word.]


    "Yes, it''s¨C"


    It''s like entering a building after the power has gone out, with headphones on. It feels disorienting. You can''t be sure if your next step will be the one that''ll send you crashing against someone else. But if you don''t move, then that someone else might crash into your first, right?


    "I¡­"


    It''s a cold lake at night. A sheet of moving black that sometimes glimmers and sometimes lets you catch a glimpse of movement that might as well be born of your imagination. You don''t touch the water, but it feels cold from afar, doesn''t it? But it''s summer. Why would a lake be cold during summer?


    "T-Tulip?"


    [Tulip mumbles to herself. She doesn''t sound as though she''s fully aware of what she''s saying.]


    It''s the pearly mist, you think. It rolls over the lake in the same way the nonexistent waves do not, carrying perhaps not cold but the idea of cold, like the vapor that comes out of someone''s mouth when they speak in the middle of winter. Just looking at it makes you feel a bit colder, doesn''t it? The black surface remains underneath, unmoving, but common sense tells you that there''s nothing to feel in shallow waters. That brush against your leg must be an algae. That cold rising up your body to your neck is the surface of the water. It couldn''t close above you. It only looks solid because nothing has disturbed it.


    But then you have. And even a summer lake holds spots in them where you could freeze to death. Except the lake was never cold in the first place. It was alwa¨C


    "Tulip!"


    [They stop walking. Tulip mumbles to herself, surprised, for a moment before she regains her voice.]


    W-what? What is it?


    "¡­ What were you rambling about? You sounded like a proper maniac. That thing about the lake and¡­"


    [Lynne is heard taking a step closer and Tulip inhales sharply.]


    "I thought your eyes¡­ no, never mind. Must''ve been a trick of the light or something."


    I¡­


    [There''s an undeniable effort in Tulip''s voice, of her trying to keep it unwavering.]


    I was just¡­ trying to spook you. Obviously. You make this really funny face when you''re unsettled, you know.


    "¡­ Really."


    Yes. Really.


    [She says that in a way that makes it clear there''s no more room for discussion, then steps are heard as she walks away. Lynne follows a second after.]


    ¡­What I was going to say before you interrupted me is that we probably shouldn''t worry too much.


    "Shouldn''t we?"


    I mean, yes. Technically speaking we probably should, but we''re at a point where if we''re being followed we''re fucked anyway, so there''s no point in thinking about it. And the town itself isn''t dangerous.


    "How do you figure? You were just rambling about how we could freeze to death or something."


    Figure of speech. Maybe. My point is that whatever had to happen in this town, it already happened. I don''t know how to explain it but¡­ I feel like it''s done. Like an actor whose character dies during a play; they''re out of the equation, you know you''re not going to see them again. This place feels dead in more ways than one. Just talking out loud I can feel the quietness pressing down on my tongue, like it wants me to shut up. Like no one or nothing should ever say or do anything ever again. The same way you shouldn''t disturb a corpse.


    Does that make sense?


    "Not in the slightest."


    [Tulip snorts.]


    Good. If I were to start being understood then half of my charm would disappear.


    [Lynne laughs.]


    "You know, I don''t remember you being this much of a drama queen before. Are you sure that lass covered in shadows didn''t influence you a tad too much?"


    Dear Synn above, no. Don''t ever say that to me ag¨C


    "Dear Synn above? What? What are you now, Sinnohan? I was just kidding before but¡­"


    [Tulip stutters for a moment, her steps getting slower. After a moment she just laughs.]


    I¡­ always liked that saying. Sounds good, I think.


    "¡­Right."


    Anyway, I would be compelled to punch you for comparing me to that tasteless mess of a woman, but we''re almost there. My house¡­ or, well, what may remain of it, is just a couple streets away.


    "Hm. Going there before the Miller''s house, then?"


    It''s very possible that past me already came here, and if she did then she probably left something there for current me. There are a lot of good hiding spots, so even if someone else searched the place I doubt they''d find it. Only I could.


    And besides, it''d be nice to visit again. Less so to open up my chest and pour out my past and all of my most horrible secrets onto an interview of my own, but I am a woman of my word, and I promised my readers that I would do this. It''s about time, anyway. Couldn''t hide this forever.


    [Lynne waits a bit before replying. When he does, there''s less of an edge to his voice.]


    "Want me to wait outside while you do all that? I wouldn''t want to intrude."


    [There''s a short pause.]


    You''ll have to read the transcribed version later anyway. It''s okay.


    "Are you sure? Bec¨C"


    I said it''s fine, so it''s fine.


    [Lynne doesn''t argue further. He doesn''t have time to regardless, because a few moments later Tulip speaks again with a hint of excitement in her voice.]


    Here. Over this next corner on the right, it''s there on the opposite end. Should b¨C


    [Tulip''s steps cease in an instant. Her breath hitches in her throat.


    Lynne doesn''t notice. He takes a couple more steps and then whistles appreciatively.]


    "Sod off, are you serious!? THAT''S your house? I was expecting¡­ I don''t know, a haunted shack, a witch''s castle or something. That''s a proper mansion!"


    [He laughs to himself, sounding aghast. Tulip doesn''t make a single sound.]


    "Why didn''t you tell me your family was rich? It explains a lot, even¨C"


    That''s not¡­


    [Tulip''s voice comes out cold and shaking. Lynne stops talking and is heard turning around, a grunt of concern rising up his throat.]


    "Tulip?"


    That''s¡­ that''s not my house.


    "What?"


    That''s not my house.


    "Wh¨C"


    [Her hurried steps echo loudly, and when Lynne screams out his voice sounds far away.]


    "Oi, wait! Tulip!"


    [The sound of Lynne''s footsteps are heard in the distance, but they''re muffled by the quick, ragged breathing from Tulip. After a few seconds her steps stop echoing and instead make a swishy sound as she steps on grass.]


    "Careful! There might be Pokemon there on the lawn!"


    [Tulip doesn''t listen. She stops a few seconds after, a hollow thump resounding as she presses her hand against what sounds like a doorframe.]


    Come on, come on. Where is it!?


    [Lynne''s steps stop beside her, and for a moment all that can be heard is the sound of their breathing.]


    "What are you looking for? What''s going on?"


    The address plate! It''s there but I¨C


    [Tulip jumps high with a grunt.]


    C-can''t reach it. It''s full of mold and dirt and I need to see if¡­if this is it. Maybe I took a wrong turn or something or¡­


    "H-here, let me¡­"


    [Lynne walks closer and there is a sound of a hand brushing against something flat and metallic.]


    "Hemwick St. 108¡­"


    [Silence stretches for a few seconds.]


    T-that''s my address. That''s my house''s address.


    [Tulip''s voice sounds breathless.]


    "Maybe¡­ maybe it was¡­"


    [There''s a pause. Lynne''s breath hitches.]


    "Wait. A mansion¡­ and this is the biggest building we''ve seen so far since we entered the town."


    [A noise comes out of Tulip''s mouth that almost sounds like a chuckle.]


    This is it. This is the Millers'' house. It has to be.


    "But then why¨C"


    I don''t know, okay? I don''t know! There''s something going on, maybe¡­ maybe I forgot something. Wouldn''t be the first time. Maybe they messed with my mind again, more than just to erase two fucking years from my memory. Maybe¡­


    "Tulip."


    [Tulip stops, almost hyperventilating. There''s a sound of her hand running through her hair and she laughs bitterly.]


    I-I''m not¡­ I don''t want to think about this. Let''s just go in. We can worry about finding my house later, let''s just go in and search for the entrance to the tunnel and¡­ god. Just¡­


    "It''s okay. Let''s do that. It''s fine."


    [They stand still for a few seconds, Tulip gathering her wits, slowing her breathing. Then there''s shuffling under her feet as she walks closer to the door. The hinges creak sharply as she opens it.]


    Of course it''s unlocked.


    "Let''s hope it''s a good omen."


    Get your flashlight. Something tells me the power''s not gonna still be working in here.


    [Tulip turns her flashlight on with a click. Lynne shuffles through the inside of his backpack and then another click is heard as he turns on his own. They step inside and the hinges creak again as the door is closed behind them.]


    "It''s¡­ dusty. "


    Hold on. Look.


    [There''s silence for a moment.]


    The layer of dust is pretty thick all over the floor. Doesn''t look like there''s any footprints nearby, and there was all that rust that fell of the hinges when we opened the door.


    "No one''s been here for a while, then."


    Not necessarily. There might be another entrance, we''ll have to check. But at least we know no one came through here.


    [Their steps are muffled by the thick dust, but still they echo into a dry, hollow sound as they make their way forward.]


    "A marble staircase? Hell, look up there at the end of the rail, that''s a bronze statue of a¡­ it looks like a Nidoran?"


    Head is too big to be a Nidoran. I don''t know what they are but they look exactly the same as the statues in Cinnabar Mansion.


    "Cinnabar Mansion?"


    Long story, don''t worry about it. Look, there in the mess of the rails. Notice something?


    "Not¡­ really? Looks all nice and proper, I guess."


    That''s the thing. It''s copper, it should''ve rusted and turned green by now. Look around. There in the lobby. There''s only dust; do you see any webs or shedding or anything else littered around?


    "N-no. If it weren''t for the dust and the darkness you''d think this place was just built."


    Yeah. I don''t think any Pokemon has set foot in Wysteria, no matter how small or thoughtless. They must avoid it on instinct. Same goes for people.


    "We''re the idiotic exception."


    [A sound almost like a chuckle leaves Tulip''s mouth.]


    There must always be one. Come on, let'' see if we can find the entrance to the tunnels. If it''s out in the open it might be in a basement of sorts, but otherwise we''ll have to look for cracks or shifting walls that might be hiding it.


    "And¡­ how would we find that, exactly?"


    Look really hard.


    "Right."


    You take the left wing, I''ll take the right.


    "I¡­ is it smart to split up?"


    Why not? If there''s something in here then we''re dead anyway, being together won''t make a difference. And the faster we get this over with the better.


    "¡­ Alright. Scream if something happens. I''ll come in running."


    Same to you. If anything attacks you let me know, it might give me enough time to escape.


    [Lynne lets out a genuine laugh.]


    "Righto."


    [Lynne''s steps get farther and farther away while Tulip''s keep resonating. Hers are slower, more deliberate. She stops every few seconds, her breath hitching as she concentrates on the sight the flashlight shows her.


    Another sharp creak is heard as she opens a door, then stands still as she moves the flashlight around.]


    Kitchen looks normal. Doubt there''s a secret passage here, but I might as well check. If the food here was well preserved I might''ve just found tonight''s dinner.


    [She walks around the room slowly, occasionally grabbing items from the table or counter, then setting them down moments later. There''s another whirring sound as she opens one of the drawers.]


    Utensils. None of them are rusted. And¡­


    [She pauses for a moment.]


    Ceramic knife. There''s something inscribed on the handle but¡­ ah. Can''t read it. Is that Sinnohan? Looks square enough.


    [The knife makes a soft sound as she shoves it inside her backpack.]


    Might as well.


    [She lets out a small grunt as she most likely stands on her tiptoes to reach the cupboard. There''s another creak as she opens it up.


    Tulip yelps and there''s a   Bonk   as something hits her in the head.]


    FH-SHIT!


    [The object sounds thick and heavy as it falls to the ground with a deaf thump. Tulip grunts, and her hand is heard rubbing her forehead as she takes a step back.]


    I''m¡­ I''m fine! Don''t rush over or anything, I just gave myself a concussion, I think.


    [Lynne doesn''t reply.


    The joints on Tulip''s knees crackle as she lowers herself and picks up the object that fell from the cupboard. It sounds smooth as she rolls it through her fingers.]


    A lighter? It looks extremely old.


    [A click is heard, followed by the soft swishing of flames. It persists for a moment before Tulip closes it with a snap.]


    Weird.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    [She saves it in her pocket and then her steps echo down the room.]


    Nothing in the kitchen. Let''s see¡­


    [For about half a minute only the sound of her steps is heard, slow and deliberate. She closes the door behind her and walks around while moving her flashlight, silent.


    Finally, she stops and doesn''t say anything for a few moments.]


    Pretty impressive collection of ugly ceramic plates. And cups. And¡­ ugh, those little ugly Meowth figurines made of marble. I fucking hate them.


    [There''s a pause.]


    I could say something really bad, but I have to transcribe this later and I don''t want my readers to think I''m a bad person.


    [Another pause. Tulip sighs.]


    Whatever. I don''t know if this was Joseph or his wife, but if they had such bad taste then it''s probably for the best that they''re dead.


    I''m joking. Mostly. If you guys abandon me because of that comment then I''m gonna feel real lonely.


    [She laughs to herself.


    After a moment, she reaches with one hand and this time the creak isn''t as loud as she opens the cabinet, perusing its insides. She mumbles to herself.]


    Chasers, whiskey glasses, champagne cups¡­ no actual alcohol though. God dammit. Maybe they have a wine cellar; this house is ridiculously big enough for that, right? I''m definitely stealing some bourbon if they have it. Or fuck it, anything over 80-proof. I''m not picky.


    Hmm, can''t see anything. Guess they really do have a separate room to keep all the alcohol in. That''d be such a nightmare, why are rich people like this? If I''m in the mood for drinking the last thing I want is to have to walk to two separate rooms to get the glass and the bottle.


    I guess when you have so much space in your house you have to fill it with something.


    [She sighs, then closes the cabinet and only walks a few steps before stopping again. There''s silence for a moment, then she murmurs a   ''Hmm''  ]


    Family photo. This must be them.


    [Tulip reaches over and grabs something, turning it in her hand. Then she curses under her breath.]


    This is the Miller''s house, alright. I''ve never seen them before but there can''t be too many rich nuclear families in town that fit the description this well. They''re¡­


    [She examines the photo in silence for a moment.]


    Shizue was right, Joseph is one hunk of a man. He''s got those eyes too, and that cocky grin that every guy thinks he can use to get what he wants. Still, sounds like he at least was pretty good at it.


    [Tulip chuckles.]


    Still didn''t end up saving him, did it?


    The kid must be Marty. He certainly takes a lot more after his mother with those rosy cheeks. He looks to be about fifteen, so this couldn''t have been too long before the incident.


    ¡­ Bunch of fucking ghosts, giving me the run-around as usual. That''s the story of my life right there.


    [Crinkly, plastic-y noises are heard as Tulip tries to remove the picture from its frame. She succeeds after a few huffs and curses, and throws the frame itself down to the ground.]


    Hnm. Nothing written in the back. I''ll take the photo anyway, I''m sure I can find some use for it. Lynne''s good with computers, maybe he can¨C


    [She cuts her sentence short, a heavy silence hanging in the air for a moment.]


    I¡­


    I don''t hear him. He didn''t reply when I yelled out earl¡­ shit.


    [Her steps echo loudly and fast as she runs back the way she came, her breathing quick and harsh, desperate. She opens the door quickly, making it shriek and then slams it behind her as she emerges into the foyer.]


    Lynne! Lynne, hey, are you still there!? Lynne!


    [She waits for a second for a reply, but none comes.]


    LYNNE! You better answer or I''m going to shove this knife I found up your¨C


    "I''m here, calm down!"


    [Tulip gasps so hard she goes into a coughing fit. She takes a step back and turns around, her voice breathy.]


    S¡­ son of a¡­ why the hell didn''t you answer me!? And wh¡­


    [She stops again, only now noticing Lynne''s steps as he walks down the staircase.]


    ¡­Why were you upstairs?


    [Lynne takes only a couple seconds before answering.]


    "Didn''t find anything below. Thought I''d check the rooms upstairs."


    [There''s a heaviness to his voice that Tulip doesn''t miss. She takes a step forward and Lynne makes a sound that''s almost like a grunt.]


    Are you okay?


    "Yeah, I''m fine, I got scared when you yelled and ran down as fast as I c¨C"


    Don''t treat me like an idiot, Lynne.


    [The next words hitch in Lynne''s throat. He stays silent for a second, then speaks again.]


    "You''re the one that yelled like a maniac."


    Yes, and you''re the one that''s looking at me like I''m a rabid Scyther, what the hell''s gotten into you? You''re acting l¡­ like¡­


    [Tulip''s voice trails off, getting thinner before vanishing. When she speaks again, it''s barely a whisper.]


    What is that in your pocket?


    "W-what?"


    In your pocket, something''s bulging out. What is it?


    "It''s nothing, I just¨C"


    Don''t lie to me!


    [Tulip takes a sudden step forward. Lynne curses under his breath and stumbles as he tries to take a step back.]


    "D-don''t!"


    [She stops in her tracks. Lynne slides up to his feet again, grunting in pain.]


    "D-don''t come near me."


    What? Lynne, what is up with you? I''m not going to hurt you, I just want to know why you''re not answering me!"


    "Look, just¡­ just stay there. Please. I''ll¡­"


    You''re scared of me. Why?


    [Tulip''s voice sounds saddened as she says that. Neither of them says that for a few seconds, an uncomfortable silence setting in. Then there''s a shuffling sound as Lynne takes the object from his pocket.]


    "I¡­ I found this."


    W-what is that? Is th¡­


    [Tulip moves the flashlight. She lets out a sharp breath.]


    A tape? It''s¡­


    "Same model as the ones you use, yeah. Found it upstairs."


    Then¡­ it has to be one of mine! I must''ve come here before and left it there. Give me t¨C


    [Again Tulip takes a step forward, and again Lynne steps back.]


    Lynne¡­


    "I told you to stay there."


    Well then you better explain yourself or I''m going to run up to you and punch you in the face for that tape. It''s not like you could''ve listened to it, so why the hell are you acting s-


    [She pauses, the weight of realization falling on the ensuing silence.]


    Did you find something else?


    "Y-yeah. A note. It was stuck to the tape when I found it."


    What¡­ did the note say?


    [It''s faint, but Lynne can be heard taking in a deep breath, muttering something to himself.]


    "Alright. Alright, alright. I''m going¡­ I''m going to give the tape to you, and I''m going to tell you what the note said."


    Yeah I sure fucking hope so.


    "But first, I need you to do something for me."


    A-are you serious? What, do I need to prove myself to you or something? Fuck you. F¨C


    "N-no, it''s not that. Please, just¡­ I need to ask you something. And you have to answer honestly. Do that and I''ll give the tape and the note to you."


    I¡­


    "If you refuse then you''ll have to take it by force."


    You''re serious.


    "I''m not pissing about here, Tulip. I''m serious. It''s just a question. One question, that''s all."


    [Tulip sputters a few interconnected swears to herself. She is heard pacing in a small circle, clearly antsy.]


    Fine. Fine, ask your fucking question. I can''t believe this.


    "You''re sounding very irritated."


    Is that the question?


    "N-no, it''s¡­"


    [Lynne sucks in a breath, and it sounds as though he runs a hand through his hair.]


    "When we came here. You said this is where your house should''ve been."


    Yeah, but I must''ve been mistaken or remembered it wrong or something. Why?


    "¡­ I don''t think you did."


    ¡­What?


    "Here''s¡­ my question. Do you remember what your house looks like?"


    Wh¨Cwhat kind of¡­ Yes, yeah I remember my house!


    "Could you close your eyes and picture it in your head?"


    Of course I could. Why are y¨C


    "Could you do it for me? Please?"


    I¡­


    [After a few moments of silence, Tulip inhales deep, and when she speaks again her voice is heavy with irritation.]


    Fine. Here, I''m doing it. This better be important.


    "Thanks. So¡­ are you picturing it?"


    Yes.


    "Describe it to me. From the moment you enter through the door, tell me how the house is laid out."


    It''s...


    [Tulip takes a moment to gather her thoughts.]


    You¡­ you open the door and enter. First thing you''ll notice is the couch at your right; there''s a little space in between it and the door-side wall where you can walk around to the space between the couch and the T.V. If you go left instead, it''s only a couple steps to the narrow hallway with a big mirror at the end. Left side of the hallway has two bedrooms, right side has the bathroom and another bedroom. The walls of the hallway are red. But it''s not¡­ paint, I think. It''s some weird, rough wallpaper or paste or something.


    [Tulip fails to notice, too focused on her explanation, but Lynne''s breathing hitches, getting shallower.]


    If you ignore the hallway and the couch and just walk straight, you''ll reach the table where everyone eats, and there''s a big¡­ furniture thing on the right where all the cups and glasses and plates are. You can see the garden past the table, through the big window doors, but it''s easier to get out there through the kitchen, so¨C


    "No."


    ¨Cyou have to go left an¨C


    [Tulip pauses.]


    What? What do you m¡­ hey. Lynne, are you okay? You look¡­


    "I''m fine."


    Seriously get down from that staircase you look like you''re about to pass out any second now, what the fuck is going on?


    "That¡­ that wasn''t it."


    W-what wasn''t it?


    "Your house. What you described wasn''t your house."


    Wh¡­!? Yes it fucking was! It has only one floor and three bedrooms and a big garden in the back and to get there you have to either go through the kitchen or¨C


    [Tulip''s voice gets harsher and louder, she can be heard gesticulating more wildly as she explains the layout.]


    "Or through the bedroom on the right, past the bathroom. There''s a window door that opens to it."


    [Lynne, on the other hand, can barely be heard. His voice is thin and weak.]


    How¡­ do you know that?


    "I just told you. Because what you just described wasn''t your house."


    [He laughs. It''s a shaky, broken sound.]


    "It''s mine."


    W-wh¡­


    [Tulip''s voice dies in her throat. For a few seconds, she stays still and silent, and nothing can be heard on the recording.]


    ¡­ Go fuck yourself.


    "Tulip¨C"


    You think this is funny!? You think you can just make a stupid fucking joke like that and think I''m going t¨C


    [Tulip stomps her way forward, her voice hot with anger.]


    "It''s not a joke! I''m not lying, Tulip, you just¨C"


    What!? I just¡­ misremembered again!? Yeah, first I can''t remember where my house is, then I can''t even recall what it fucking looks like. And how would I even know what your house looks like? I''ve never been to Galar! I''ve never¨C


    "Then maybe there''s another reason."


    Fuck you. You lying sack of s¨C!


    "Fine! Refuse to believe me, it''s fine. Get angry. Punch me. It won''t make you right, it''ll just turn you into a violent wanker."


    Sounds fine by me. I''ve got no problem punching a fucking liar.


    "Why would I even lie to you about this!?"


    Why are you asking me!? Hell, maybe you¨C


    "Wait. Wait, I got it."


    [He takes a moment to swallow, and to breathe in.]


    "You want to prove that the house you remember is your house."


    I''ve got nothing to prove to you.


    "Great. Well, do it anyway."


    ¡­


    "Here it is. You remember the big tree in the middle of the garden, right? The one a tad right of center when you look from inside."


    I¡­ yes. Of course I do. It''s been there since I was a kid. It bloomed every May. It''s¨C


    [She pauses. A low whine leaves her throat and the recorder creaks with the force of her grip.]


    "Do you remember the kind of tree it was? The flowers that bloomed on it?"


    I¨CI¡­ I r-remember, yes. It w-was¡­


    [But that''s as far as she can get her words out, each one straining her voice even further.]


    A-agh! Fuck, wh¨C!?


    [Tulip shakes, moves erratically, a deep, guttural grunt of pain rising up her stomach to her throat. She thrashes and whines, the floorboards creaking under her stomps.]


    Hngh! W-what is¡­ why can''t I¡­?


    "It was a Bristol Whitebeam, a tree that you can only find in Galar. And do you remember the Pokemon that always rested outside your house? It belonged to the neighbors. You pet it every day on your way to school. Do you remember what Pokemon it was?"


    N-no, I can¡­ It was¡­


    "A Wooloo, right?"


    [Tulip screams, and her knees are heard touching the floor before Lynne finishes airing his question. A burst of static shakes the recorder.]


    I-it hhhur¡­ fffuuckc,ng much, god, fuck, oh god¡­


    It¡­ I¡­


    [An actual sob leaves Tulip''s lips. Her voice is thin and shrill, nothing like her usual tone.]


    "Tulip¡­"


    W¡­ why can''t I remember? I can''t e-even picture¡­ it. I c-can''t¡­


    [She stops. A heartbeat passes, and then she lets out a whine and starts quickly muttering to herself.]


    N-nononono I¡­ t-they can''t, I¡­ I don''t¡­


    "Tulip?"


    [By the time Tulip can stop heaving and breathing out only half words, the pain she was feeling seems to have dissipated, as she stops whining. Instead she just lies there, breathing in deep, before speaking.]


    I¡­ I can''t remember my parent''s faces.


    "What?"


    I can''t remember¡­


    [There''s a burst of static in the recording as she says those words. It hangs for a moment before vanishing. Tulip speaks again, but the word is swallowed by static once more.]


    Did you hear that? What I just said?


    "I¡­ you didn''t say anything."


    [Tulip pushes herself to her feet. It sounds as though she stumbles wildly and doesn''t stop moving, her steps resounding in a circle.]


    Nonono, this can''t be happening, this isn''t¡­ they¡­


    "Tulip?"


    What¡­ what was my dad''s name?


    "I¡­"


    What was my dad''s fucking name, Lynne!? You''ve got the memories of my house, maybe you have that, too! What''s his name!?


    "That''s¡­ I told you, that wasn''t your house, it was mine."


    Fuck that. You''re lying.


    "Then how did I know to ask for that? Why do your memories of your supposed house have Galarian stuff in th¨C"


    [Tulip grunts and shakes again, and Lynne stops.]


    "Sorry. But you see? This proves that I''m right. I knew it from the note; it told me what to ask you."


    W-what did it say?


    "Here, you can have it. I said I''d give it to you."


    [Lynne tentatively walks downstairs and hands over the recorder and piece of paper, which Tulip takes off his hands quickly.]


    "There. What does it say?"


    I¡­


    [Tulip breathes out. She says silent for a moment, then reads the note aloud.]


    Don''t trust her. She is not Tulip, but what little is left of her. And soon, she''ll be what little is left of you, too. Unless¡­ you stop her. Ask about her home. Ask about her family. Confront her with the contradictions she herself is unaware of and then¨C


    [She breathes in sharply, her voice thinning.]


    K-kill her. It probably won''t work, but it''s your best chance at escaping from her while still yourself.


    [There is a moment of silence, in which the change in the sound of Tulip''s breathing indicates that she is looking up at Lynne.]


    "I¡­ figured I maybe shouldn''t go around killing just because a note told me to. Could be a lie. Fabricated. But¡­ we can''t deny that there''s something wrong here."


    N-nono, this isn''t me¨Cthis isn''t¨CI''m not¡­ tricking you, I''m¡­ I can''t¡­


    [She places both hands and the recorder against her head and lets out a painful growl, taking a step back.


    When she talks again, her voice is on the verge of breaking.]


    I c-can''t¡­ remember their faces. Or their names. My parents, my friends¡­ anyone. They must''ve¡­ must''ve fucked with my head, somehow. It was more than the two years, it was¡­


    "Why did you only realize now? Did you never think about your parents ever since you woke up in Cerulean?"


    Wh¨Cno, I¡­ of course I did. I¡­


    [She pauses.]


    I¡­ must have. Right? There''s no way I haven''t thought of them once; I knew I was coming back here, I knew I was going to tell everyone what happened to us, so I must''ve¡­


    "But you can''t remember it."


    [Tulip doesn''t say anything.]


    "And what about all the other people? The ones you''ve interviewed so far."


    W-what?


    "You said in one of your entries that you regularly kept in contact with them. Is that true? I haven''t seen you do anything of the sort."


    Because¡­ I''ve been busy, but I''ve talked to them! They''re¡­ I had to make sure they were okay so¡­


    "But you have no proof. You only told your readers you did."


    W-why would I lie about that!?


    "I don''t know. But you¡­ have to admit it''s weird. Do you remember what you talked to them about? What they told you, exactly? Do you remember each conversation?"


    R-right, yeah. It was¡­


    [There''s a swish as she raises her hand, gesticulating as she prepares to respond, but the words never come out. Seconds pass in silence. Tulip lowers the recorder slowly. Her breathing is hard to hear.]


    ¡­ I can''t.


    "You don''t remember?"


    [Tulip doesn''t answer directly. She takes a step back, letting out a breath that almost sounds like broken laughter. She mutters to herself unintelligibly.]


    They¡­ they took them from me. All of them.


    "That''s¡­ we don''t know that. We can try to contact them later an¨C"


    No, nononono! They can''t¡­!"


    "O-oi'', Tulip¨C"


    They can''t take them!


    [Tulip throws her hands down, her scream echoing through the walls of the mansion.]


    They can''t, t-they can''t! They''re¡­ T-they can''t take them from me, they''re all I FUCKING have!


    "Calm down, we don''t know if that''s the case! We have to keep¨C!"


    SHUT UP!


    [There''s a burst of wind and static. A second after, something flies through the air and breaks against a wall, shattering like glass. Lynne yelps and stumbles back. Tulip lets out a deep grunt and kicks one of the nearby pieces of furniture, making it clank against the wall.]


    Where are they!? Where the fuck are they!? Where''s the entrance to the tunnels!?


    "Tulip, calm down!"


    HGGAAGH! F-FUCK!


    [Once again, Tulip grabs at her head and lets out a series of curses and pained grunts, her steps quick and erratic as she stumbles her way around the room.]


    W-where are you!? I''m here, just come and take me! If you want something then stop playing me and just fucking do it!


    "Tulip, pl¨C"


    "If you insist."


    [The voice sounds simultaneously as though it''s an inch from the recorder and also far away, on the other end of a long and narrow tunnel. It''s low and soft, yet sharp. Like the crackling of flames.


    Tulip and Lynne freeze. They don''t gasp or scream in surprise. They stand there, in silence, for a long, uncomfortable second.]


    "W-who was that?"


    I¡­


    [The door behind them creaks loudly, as though every individual splinter were trying to separate itself from the rest.


    Then comes the sizzling. Tulip inhales sharply and the recording is barely intelligible as she jumps and screams.]


    GET DOW¨C!


    [The rest of her warning is swallowed by the roar of the flames, and the sound of the door flying off its hinges by the force of the blast.


    Little can be made out over the chaos. Tulip throws Lynne down, shielding him with her body. The recorder flies off her hand, bursting with static with every bounce.


    After the boom, the sound of flames licking up the walls around the spot where the door was crackles loudly.]


    "Keep them still for me, will you?"


    [They have no time to do anything. Lynne and Tulip are still coughing out the smoke they inhaled, and when they hear the running behind them it''s too late.


    Tulip tries to jump to her feet, but a deep roar cuts through the room like a second explosion, and then something swipes at her, throwing her to the side. Tulip tries to scream, but the sound is cut off as all air leaves her lungs. It sounds as though one of the creatures presses hard against her with its paws, immobilizing her. A second after, the same happens to Lynne.


    The depth and pitch of the ensuing hisses indicate that the creatures are Pyroar.]


    "Hgh-ghaah! C-can''t¡­!"


    G-get off me! G¡­Ghaah!


    [Their struggles echo against the background of the growing flames. Behind them, slower, more delicate steps approach.]


    "It''s funny, you know? After all that trouble you gave us, after I''d started thinking this might be a problem¡­ you just go and announce your position. You ask us to find you. Who would have thought?"


    [There''s an inherent smile, a constant hint of laughter in the woman''s voice. It''s a discordant sound.


    Tulip''s breath hitches as she hears it, and she goes taut.]


    Y-you¡­!


    "Wh¨Cwho is she? What... GHaagh!"


    [One of the Pyroar presses harder against Lynne''s arms, making them creak.]


    Lynne! S-stop that! Let him g¨CHMPH!


    [A paw presses against Tulip''s mouth, silencing her. There''s a tearing sound as the Pyroar''s long claws drag down her face, digging into it ever so slightly.]


    "You''ll have to forgive me for silencing you, Tulip, but I''m pretty sure I know exactly what you''d say to me if you had the means to, and I''m not in the mood to be insulted at the moment. I''m on something of a schedule here."


    [The woman''s steps somehow echo louder than the crackling of the flames behind her as she approaches the pair, walking around them slowly.]


    "Hm. Seems I got here just in time. Sanbica was right to be worried; meeting with Shadi twice, going as far as to interview her¡­ I shudder to imagine what would''ve happened if you''d actually taken a big piece of her. But you seem¡­ mostly unchanged. You''ve been fighting it, haven''t you?"


    [Tulip moves and struggles and tries to yell through the paw against her mouth, but it''s all for nothing.]


    "She was mistaken, thankfully for us. If she''d known what you really are¡­"


    [Her voice trails off, and Lynne struggles to get a few words out as it does.]


    "W-who¡­ are you?"


    "Hm? Ah. You don''t remember me."


    "Wh¨CI''ve never¡­ met you before."


    "Haven''t you?"


    [The woman''s smile can be heard through her voice as she says that.]


    "Not to worry, though. I''ll have you fixed and ready to go in no time once we''re back at the Institute. I''m sure I''ll get chewed out plenty once everything''s back to normal and¡­ I most certainly deserve it. Hmph. Matters for later. I guess I should be courteous and introduce myself regardless:


    "I am Malva Valzifer, member of the Kalos League and Stigma number Four of the Institute of the Sunken Library. Some have taken to calling me the Demon of Flare, as tasteless as the moniker is. A pleasure, I know. Or it will be, very soon. Once certain pests are taken care of."


    [Malva takes a few steps, walking closer to the recorder, to Tulip. She stands still for a second.]


    "Three years. Three long years you''ve evaded us¡­ and all because of a single stupid mistake on my part. I never should''ve let her in the same room as you.


    "Oh well. Mistakes are there to be fixed, and I''m finally on course to do that with you, Tulip."


    "O-oi¡­ what are you going t-to¨C"


    [There''s a muffled thump as Malva stomps on what sounds like Tulip''s knee, followed by a single, loud crack.


    Tulip''s screech is muffled by the Pyroar''s paw, but even so it shakes the air, sharp and broken.]


    "TULIP! S-stop! Stop it, what the hell are you doing!?"


    "Don''t you worry your pretty little head. I made sure it was a clean break; no mess, no internal bleeding. Or, well¡­ not too much, at least. I can''t have her die yet, not before the slate is wiped clean and all she has stolen is returned to their rightful owners. It wouldn''t do for a Miltank to be put down in the same way as a lowly Poochyena, would it? It needs to be pampered and ready before it''s sent to the slaughterhouse."


    "Wh¨Cshut up! Just¡­ p-please let us go. We didn''t do anything! We never wanted to mess with you so just¨C!"


    [Malva whispers an order, and a second after Lynne''s voice is cut off, muffled by a large paw pressing tightly against his mouth.


    For a few seconds, all that can be heard is his struggle to break free, as well as Tulip''s failed attempts to keep herself from sobbing due to the pain in her leg.


    Malva sighs.]


    "I''m certain I''ll get chewed out for all I''m worth. You''ll probably be spitting out Pyroar hairs for a week, but try to remember that I wouldn''t be doing this if this side of you weren''t so noisy. And Galarian. Dear god, that accent¡­


    "Hm. Where was I? Oh, yes. Waste disposal."


    [The familiar sound of a Pokeball opening is heard, the rush of sound and light promptly materializing into another fiery creature next to Malva. Its flames, however, crackle in a much calmer way. Almost pleasant.


    The soft, almost musical purr indicates that the Pokemon is a Delphox.]


    "Again, sorry for the swift and impatient treatment, but the fire growing behind us is not the only timer I''m running against. You''ll be getting the premium treatment regardless, Tulip, be sure of that. Normally¡­"


    [She stops talking for a moment, the bracelets on her arm clinking as she raises a hand.


    Then, there is a surge of something, a burst of emptiness, and the entire room falls deathly silent.


    Another crackle, similar to that of the previous flames, resounds from Malva''s hand. But it sounds wrong. Devoid of life, of an echo.]


    "¡­I would simply erase you myself. But I''m afraid those pieces need to be returned to their respective boards¡­ or so Colress tells me. So instead, you''ll be given to a pair of more¡­ surgical hands, you could say. And yes, you should feel exactly as lucky as you look.


    "Now, Walpurgis, if you''d please. Bring her along."


    [Tulip gasps sharply as the paw is lifted up from her mouth.]


    YOU FUCK¨CGGHHAH!


    [But almost immediately after being released, the air crackles and pops as though it were solid, a sudden surge of psychic energy cutting through the fabric of reality. A low, persistent static overtakes the recording, although not powerful enough to drown out the voices.


    There''s a shuffle as Tulip is lifted off her feet by the rush of psychic energy. Judging by the choked, desperate sounds leaving her mouth, she is unable to move.]


    "There we go. Now, I believe you came here hoping to find an entrance to those tunnels you were going on about? If so, today is your lucky day. You will get to visit them personally."


    "Hmphgh! Ghg¨CGah!"


    [Lynne struggles hard enough that he manages t free his mouth, if only for a moment.]


    "Tulip! Tulip, please hang in there! I''ll come back for you, I¨CHGHG!"


    [He is silenced once again, only muffles coming through.


    Malva groans.]


    "I told him to go easier on you because I don''t want to be reprimanded later, and this is how you repay me? Just stay put, would you? I''ll be right back for you.


    "Let''s go, Walpurgis."


    [The creature next to her slides through the air as though it were floating, the fur falling around him making a pleasant sound as it brushes against the floor. Judging by the change in volume in Tulip''s whines, she is being moved as well.


    Malva starts walking away, but stops only a few steps after.]


    "Hm. Of course."


    [She walks toward the recorder and picks it up, the static getting louder and harsher the closer she gets. She giggles at herself.]


    "Good."


    [She starts walking again, and both the Delphox and a powerless Tulip follow, the latter two either sliding or floating through the air in front of her. There are shorter steps, then longer ones as they reach what sounds like the room in the back of the mansion, then stop.


    Something is unlocked with a metallic sound, and next Malva is heard walking down a stone staircase, following her Pokemon. They walk for a few seconds before reaching an underground room, filled with a wet, heavy echo.


    Tulip continues to struggle the entire way, but she is powerless against the hold of Delphox'' psychic power. Her whines are harder to hear now, as the static coming from Malva continues to beat irregularly, like a heart.]


    "Colress said the wine cellar, and this is it. Entrance should be around¡­"


    [Malva mutters to herself as she walks around the room, her steps echoing more loudly than they ought to.


    After what feels like an entire minute, she stops and stays silent. Then she laughs.]


    "Here it is! Now¡­"


    [The bracelets on her wrist clink again, and then that emptiness, that void crackles to life again, swallowing every other sound in the vicinity except the static and the sound of Malva''s voice.


    She takes a step further, and presses the hand against the wall. It sizzles. Whines sharply, as though it were being burned away.


    Then, something unlocks. The void disappears. A loud, grating growl shakes the room as the wall moves by itself, parting to reveal a hole from which a gust of wind emerges into the room.]


    "There we go."


    [Tulip''s whines stop. She is unnaturally quiet as she is slowly brought near the opening.]


    "Hold on. Before you throw her in there¡­ here."


    [Malva walks toward the immobilized Tulip and, with a loud shuffling sound, places the tape recorder inside the pocket of her jacket. The static disappears. When she talks again, her voice is muffled and distant.]


    "You can keep that, as a sign of¡­ good faith, let''s say. Don''t worry, I''ll retrieve the recorder once I come back for whatever''s left of you, so just make sure you record the entirety of your hopeless struggle, okay? I need something entertaining to listen to during my lunch breaks now that I finished all the podcasts Colress recommended me.


    That is all. Walpurgis, be my guest."


    [The pressure upon the air disappears with a pop, and Tulip falls to her knees with a sharp inhale, crumbling upon herself. She screams as she lands atop her broken knee, but doesn''t let it distract her for more than a second.]


    M-MALVA! YOU''LL¨C


    [She crawls on her stomach and throws herself forward, the fingers on her hand creaking slightly as they close around Malva''s ankle.


    Then, the air pops again.]


    G-GHAAH!


    [A force like a wall of powerful wind crashes against Tulip, throwing her a good distance back past the opening, where she lands and collapses again, falling upon herself.]


    "Goodbye, Tulip. It''s been¡­ a pleasure, let''s say."


    N-NO! N¨C!


    [Tulip struggles to move, but it''s too late. The stones move at lightning speed, slamming against each other with a loud, echoing thump, closing the opening shut.]


    No¡­ N-no, this¡­


    [Malva''s steps are barely hearable past the thick wall of stone. They only echo for a few seconds, getting farther and farther away, until they disappear altogether.


    Never to come back.]

 Fragment #9: Carriage Return

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    [The tape keeps on recording, and minutes pass with no sound except Tulip''s harsh, deep breathing occasionally interrupted by a wince or a cry of pain as she tries to move her leg. There are further echoes. Sounds of water dripping against rock in the distance, but they''re heavily muffled by Tulip''s pocket.


    Time passes. Tulip sobs, then harshly insults herself under her breath and says nothing for a while, simply breathing and shaking. At some point, she drags herself to lay against a wall and takes a sip from a bottle of water hidden in her backpack.


    Only after almost an hour of silence does Tulip speak again, her voice sounding utterly spent, without energy.]


    "¡­Do I have anything to make a splint with?"


    [After shuffling through the inside of her backpack, she sighs in relief and pulls out something that sounds long and woolen. She places it on the ground next to her and stays silent for a while.]


    "I guess a rolled-up towel will have to do. Thank Mew I brought some gauze too."


    [For the next few minutes, all that can be heard are Tulip''s pained grunts and the sharp swish of gauze against cloth and skin as she makes a splint around her leg. Judging by the screams and profanities, she has difficulty tying the knot. She tries a few times and ends up letting go once she feels the pressure and pain. In the end, taking a deep breath, she bites onto the fabric of her collar and ties it in one quick motion.


    Even muffled, her scream peaks the audio of the tape.


    Through a storm of curses and sobs, Tulip slowly calms herself back to normal, but by then another twenty minutes have passed. Finally, she hoists the backpack over her shoulder and turns to face the rocky wall.]


    "Hghk¡­ s-secured, looks like. C-come on now¡­"


    [Tulip grabs onto the rock and slowly drags herself to her feet, stopping every few seconds to breathe and wince through the pain. After about three minutes, she manages it. A loud, deep sigh is heard as she presses tightly against the wall, standing on one foot.]


    "H-ha¡­ Never, n-never even tried making a splint before. Pretty sure this is the first time I''ve broken a bone, too. Or¡­ had someone else break one, I guess."


    [A few seconds of breathing pass.]


    "¡­ I don''t remember, but I know I heard someone talk about knowing how to make splints. And now I''m starting to ramble like Lynn does, too. And those things I said before¡­"


    [She swallows hard enough for the tape to pick it up, then curses under her breath again and shakes her head.]


    "I-I can''t¡­ not right now. I have to¡­ agh, get moving before¡­"


    [There''s a sound of skin against rock, followed by a grunt and a stomp. Tulip breathes heavily for a short time before continuing.]


    "Right¡­ should be able to walk along the wall if I hold on with one arm. It''ll take a while but¡­"


    [The heavy, discordant steps echo a few more times as Tulip slowly makes her way forward. After a minute or so, she stops to breathe and grabs the tape from her pocket with her free hand.]


    "Hha¡­ Hey. Sorry, forgot this was still on¡­ heat of the moment and all. So I guess you had to hear all that¡­ or a future transcription of it, should I keep myself alive for the next¡­ five minutes, or so."


    [She laughs bitterly.]


    "If you''re Malva listening to this while drinking your coffee or whatever after you killed me, then¡­ well, fuck you I guess. Get a hangnail and die, all that."


    [Tulip lowers the tape for a moment, seemingly looking ahead.]


    "Laugh through the pain¡­ that''s what Lynne would say. Poor bastard."


    [Her voice sounds saddened, bitter, as she says that.]


    "I¡­ don''t get it. Why did she take him alive? What do they need him for? About all that fucking git''s good for is cooking, nothing more."


    [She huffs. Then breathes angrily, in and out, quickly.]


    "¡­I''m sorry. I''m sorry, Lynne."


    [A laugh leaves her lips.]


    "Though if that note''s true, maybe you''re not the first I¡­"


    [After a few moments of silence, Tulip continues forward, sometimes dragging her feet, others making small jumps. It''s loud and slow.]


    "Won''t have time to worry about that unless I leave here alive, I guess. Judging by what Malva said, that¡­ thing, that Gardevoir''s probably still roaming these tunnels. She got me the last time¡­ I think. If that video''s accurate. Won''t have much of a chance if I run into her, dragging myself across the wall, one leg broken, both hands occupied.


    But I guess we''ll fall down that bridge when we get to it."


    [Tulip shakes the tape recorder for a second. When that doesn''t work, she turns it slightly around and presses a button on the back.]


    "There we go. Gonna have to thank Lynne for recommending me the one with a light. Even if it cost almost double.


    Of course, the real light in this tunnel are the memories and wishes of all my wonderful readers."


    [She can barely make it through the sentence before falling into a burst of self-hating laughter. When she speaks again, though, she sounds better.]


    "Sorry. I''m not kidding, though. If, and that''s a Snorlax-size fucking ''if'' there, I survive this and end up posting this transcription, then I''ll write a love letter for all of you. I''m serious. The sappiest shit I can possibly write down on paper."


    [She sighs, whether dreamily or in irritation it''s hard to tell.]


    "¡­So keep me in your thoughts and prayers, will you?"


    [There''s silence for a few more minutes of agonizingly slow walking, until Tulip finally stops, breath quick and erratic. The sound in the tunnel changes. It''s coming from different directions now.]


    "Fork in the road¡­ fancy that."


    [She stays silent, in thought.]


    "Right¡­ Agh. Let''s see¡­ if this were the branch of the tunnel I used before, I''d be shit for luck. That''d be at least an entire day of walking like this. But this entrance was in the Miller''s house, not in the mountains off the side of Wysteria. So that means¡­"


    [She counts under her breath.]


    "It''s at least¡­ six or seven kilometers I''m saving myself here, assuming I''m doing the math right. The Miller''s house was northwest of town, and the dock where the lighthouse was located was¡­ southeast, I think? Definitely the other extreme of town. And since the entrance to the tunnel was on the right wall when we went down that cellar and has gone straight since¡­


    "¡­Okay. Right it is."


    [There''s a slower, more expansive echo to her steps as she continues, indicating that the passage has widened considerably. Her advance is slow.]


    "Hgk¡­ I don''t know if it''s even a good idea to keep going. Even if I make it to¡­ where I got last time, and even if by some miracle I''m not killed or taken by that Gardevoir, there''s still no exit. The lighthouse collapsed. Might be another path further down but¡­ I''d doubt it.


    "Might at least find¡­ something. Answers, a stick I can use as a cane, a gun I can shoot myself with. Anything is better than laying down and taking it, I suppose."


    [She stops for a moment, not only to breathe but to retrieve something from her backpack as well. There''s a swish of fabric against fabric as the tape recorder is moved around, then finally placed somewhere other than her hand.]


    "There. Breast pocket should be thin enough that it still picks up my voice. And it frees my hand for this."


    [There''s a click, followed by a sharp sound of metal against plastic as the switchblade is unfolded.]


    "Doubt it will be much use against a psychic Pokemon, but it''s one option more than zero. Between this and the one Pokeball I could afford from my pal back in Vermillion¡­ might have a chance. I''d say I''ve gotten handy with one of these but¡­ in all honesty, I can''t remember where that experience''s come from.


    "¡­Same with a lot of things."


    [Her next breath comes out as a sigh.]


    "I''m sorry. For whatever any of you still think of my honesty, I swear I haven''t been keeping things from you. Not consciously. I just¡­ I still don''t¡­ understand¡­"


    [A grunt of pain leaves Tulip''s lips, but it''s different from the ones before. It''s longer, more persistent. Less sudden.]


    "Ugh¡­ almost pressed my hand against my head it hurt so badly. Would''ve been a great way to get ahead of the curve and give myself a lobotomy with this knife before Gardevoir has any chance to.


    "It''s¡­ the same as back in the house. I swear I''m not lying; my house, my family, what I was getting ready to tell you all¡­ it''s all real. It happened, I fucking swear. But the more I try to look back and think about it the less¡­ agh! The more I¡­ forget. It''s everything. Everything from before I started doing this, my life and¡­ the people I knew. It''s all so blurry¡­


    "I can''t remember my parent''s names, or what my house looked like. What I told Lynne¡­ what he said was his house, I¡­ I''m starting to forget it too. Forget everything he told me about it. Can''t remember what my job was before this. I know I had some¡­ secretarial duties? Or, no, fuck¡­ minute keeping? Yeah, yeah that''s it. That''s¡­ it has to be that. It was¡­ a court? Or an office? I know it was something like¡­"


    [Tulip stops, groaning more strongly, her breathing hitching up.]


    "A-ah¡­ god¡­ I c-can''t¡­ come on you stupid fucking brain, I know what it is. That''s where I met my first girlfriend. That''s where I worked for years before I¡­"


    [Several seconds pass in silence, to the soundless sound of Tulip trying her hardest to concentrate. When she finally breathes out, the result is no wonder. The sigh is filled with disappointment.]


    "¡­There''s nothing. I almost feel like it''s there when I reach out to it but the more I try¡­ agh, I''m repeating myself."


    [She doesn''t speak or move for a short time.]


    "There''s¡­ other things. That don''t disappear. There''s memories I can still recall perfectly, no matter how many times I do it. They''re clear like they just happened. So clear that it''s almost¡­ blinding, but that doesn''t make sense. I¡­"


    "It''s the interviews. The tapes, the written statements, everything I ever did and heard while working on the Wysteria files. Kate, Monika, Horace, Podvik¡­ Marie and Lynne¡­ everything about them is still there. It''s the only thing that''s firmly there. I can only remember them, but when I try to remember myself¡­


    "I know¡­ I like books, and dry alcohol and women with bangs and documentaries. Curry is my favorite food. Purple is my favorite color. I still remember those things, I''m still myself but¡­ they''re not like the memories related to this project. They''re stronger but¡­ not strong enough. I can feel them getting blurrier every time I remember them. It''s¡­


    "It''s¡­ well, you can probably guess what it feels like, at least a little bit. Exercise those imagination muscles, I guess. Fucking hell."


    [She scoffs, then lets out a sound almost like laughter, only drier, more desperate]


    "God¡­


    "¡­No, no I''m not fucking stopping. Even if Gardevoir or Malva or whatever is coming for me I''m making sure I take out as much of this anger as possible on them before they get me. I am not going down without a fight, not after all this, for fuck''s sake.


    "So come on, you stupid leg. Get me out of here faster. Enjoy the time you have left before you''re broken too, I guess."


    [It''s a few long minutes of slow dragging and hopping while pressed against the rocky wall before Tulip says anything again. Even then, it''s mostly unintelligible. She whispers and mutters to herself after a while of being deep in thought. A few times, she scoffs or clicks her tongue or curses, mostly at herself. Few words are picked up by the recording like ''stigma'' or ''blossoming'' or ''coalescence'', which indicates she''s running through information in her head over and over. Looking for an answer. Something she hadn''t seen before, perhaps. Not much progress is done, evidently.


    Lost in thought, for a while she seems too distracted to notice the exhaustion and keeps going for twenty minutes before having to stop for a quick breath and a drink of water. This repeats twice, though the distance traveled is slightly shorter each time.


    Tulip takes another sip, quick and not very substantial, mostly just to combat the dryness in her throat. Then she sighs.]


    "I¡­ have to say. This is actually easier than I thought it''d be. Turns out you can walk pretty damn far with one foot if you have a wall to press up against. I''d thank Malva for dropping me in a place that''s nothing but walls, but¡­ yeah, no. There''s a lot of things I want to give that fucking redhead, but credit isn''t one of them."


    [She resumes her hopping, slowly, wincing and grunting through it.]


    "I still can''t believe my hunch was right. I haven''t been around the internet for long but even I''ve seen a bunch of conspiracy nutters claiming some Champion or Elite Four member was an alien or a lizard person or part of a secret society. Never paid much attention to it. To me, rich and powerful people didn''t get to where they are because they''re secret geniuses, they''re just opportunist assholes who had a bit of luck along the way. But I guess Malva is the exception to the rule.


    "¡­And considering there''s five other Stigma I know nothing about, I can only wonder what other big shot has their finger in that particular pie. I''d have thought Cynthia for sure if Shadi hadn''t disproven it for me. She always seemed so shifty and¡­"


    [Tulip stops herself, going from fast talking to a really sudden and angry sigh.]


    "God¡­ Shadi. Almost managed to forget about her for a while. The one woman in almost ten years that seemed interested in me and it was the smuggest, slimiest Adrian Veidt-like piece of shit I''ve ever met.


    "Ugh. Sorry if I''m kinda rambling here, folks. I''ve got nothing but time and a working tape recorder and a bunch of really awful shit I''d rather talk over and not think about right now. So you''ll forgive me, I hope."


    [She laughs bitterly.]


    "¡­I still wonder what that thing was. That¡­ piece of ember, the Griseous Orb I think she called it? Can''t believe she took it with her. I know I had no idea how to use it but still¡­ having a draw four in a game of poker would be weird, but still better than no cards at all."


    [There''s a few more seconds of sighing and angry mumbling until Tulip stops again, this time more suddenly, not to rest. She stays silent for a moment, then grunts as she tries to grab the recorder as well as the knife and point the light farther.]


    "Passage''s getting narrower, and it smells¡­ different. Wetter? There''s less dust in the air. It feels¡­ familiar."


    [She swallows nervously.]


    "Maybe that''s what the me in that video smelled before reaching the¡­"


    [She trails off, then mutters something. She takes a quick hop forward, and it sounds as though she raises the light higher.]


    "¡­There it is. That''s that metal door from the video, the busted up one. But it''s not¡­"


    [She hops a few steps closer, until the acoustics of the tunnel are clearly different, making each echo stronger, closer.]


    "This one''s not broken. Hm."


    [Tulip remains lost in thought for a short time.]


    "What was under the lighthouse¡­ the center of these tunnels, whatever it is, must have an entrance for each of the branches. Like a big underground bunker, or blast chamber. In the video it opened up to that¡­ communal bathroom looking place. There was that note that warned about Gardevoir, and then a long hallway full of doors that were all locked. That must''ve been¡­ west of here. So this door should lead to a different room.


    "¡­Assuming it''s not locked. That''d be a bit of a pisser."


    [After a moment of realization, she groans at herself.]


    "Pisser? Mew, I''ve really spent too much time around Lynne. Here, let''s just¡­"


    [Despite the short distance, Tulip takes about a minute to get to the door, and by the time she does she needs a moment to sheathe the knife and save it in her breast pocket, alongside the recorder. Then she gives another hop and presses her now free left hand against the metallic door. It echoes hollowly.


    There''s a tug, gentle at first. Then strong, then desperate and frantic. The door does not open.]


    "¡­ No."


    [She lets out a grunt from deep in her belly and pushes and pulls as fast as she possibly can, grinding the metal inside the lock into a whirr. It doesn''t work.]


    "That wasn''t mean to be a challenge! Come! On! Fuck!"


    [Her last pull is so strong her fingers slip and she sends herself tumbling back a step and a half, accidentally stepping on her broken knee if the sudden, sharp scream of agony is any indication.]


    "FGH-AAGH! SHIT!"


    [She practically collapses against the door, shaking and breathing heavily. The knife and the recorder rattle inside her breast pocket, peaking the audio.]


    "Ffff¡­ n-no¡­ this can''t¡­ the door can''t be fucking locked, come on! What am I supposed to do!? I can''t¡­!"


    [Tulip''s angry rant is interrupted by a sudden, powerful slam against the other side of the metallic door. It''s expansive, as though every inch of it was hit by an invisible force. Tulip yelps and jumps back, throwing herself back and against the wall as the slam echoes and the audio goes blurry with static for a moment.]


    "W-wh¡­!"


    [A second, stronger impact is heard, followed by a third. It doesn''t sound like a physical object hitting the door, but more like a force, like an unnaturally powerful gust of wind. Two more impacts follow, each one echoing deeply like the gong of a bell. Through that sound, another can be made out, subtler at first, yet gaining volume with every boom.


    The metal, bending.]


    "O-oh¡­"


    [Something breaks with the next impact, the cry of shattering metal echoing down the tunnels. The door sounds looser.]


    "N-no, nonono I-n¡­. f-fuck wh¨C"


    [The next hit is finally the one to break the lock. The door creaks as it dislodges, but its hinges still hold strong, stuck against the rocky walls by the bending of the metal itself. Broken, but still closed, if only for a moment.]


    "P-pokeball, where''s the¡­ c-come on, where''s the¡­ agh, here! F¨C!"


    [With a deep, echoing echo, the door is blown off its hinges as though it were made of cardboard. Tulip screams in terror. She throws herself against the wall as the slab of metal bounces once, then twice, then slams against the ground with enough force for the vibration to be perfectly heard through the tape.


    A sudden static creeps into the recording, muffling the quieter noises, leaving only Tulip''s terrified mumbles and the crackle of psychic energy to be heard.


    Keeping herself above ground through its own psychic power, the creature makes no noise other than the growing static as she floats over the opening and closer to Tulip.]


    "W-what? What are y¡­ s-saying?"


    [Whatever Tulip hears from the creature, it is not picked up in any way by the recording.]


    "N-no, nono I''m not¡­ I''ve¡­ been here, I c ¨C"


    [The static grows stronger, sharper.]


    "Stay away! Stay away or I''ll¨C!"


    [It''s a sudden burst, like an explosion of white noise as the creature lunges for Tulip.]


    "NO!"


    [A thump is heard, and the creature finally makes a noise; a low, barely hearable grunt of pain.


    Then, the familiar sound of a Pokeball opening is heard, and as the beam swallows her, the static completely disappears from the recording.]


    "S-shit! I¡­!"


    [Tulip wastes no time in running. She hops over to the blasted open entrance and jumps to the other side, stopping for only an instant to breathe before continuing. The first beep of the Pokeball echoes behind her.]


    "H-aah, hhah, c-come on come on!"


    [It''s a frenetic pace, jumping and jumping again almost before she''s done landing. Both of her hands press against the wall. It''s easier, quicker to advance this way, even if it leaves her defenseless.


    The Pokeball beeps for the second time in the distance.


    Tulip quickens her pace even further, so much that she almost trips at first. Her hops echo much farther and more rhythmically than before, and the shape and depth of their sound indicates that she''s now stepping on floor tiles instead of rock. Rushing wind can be barely made out in the distance.]


    "Ah-hhah, I-I¨C!"


    [The third beep never comes, replaced instead by a sharp electronic whirr as the creature frees herself from the Pokeball. The static rushes back, but it''s subtler this time, farther away. Tulip has created a good distance between them, and she extends it further with each second that passes, each second that Gardevoir remains floating there, confused, looking for her prey.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    It doesn''t last long. That frayed, painfully echoing cry fills the room even from afar, and the rushing of fabric against floor is heard. The static slowly increases as Gardevoir approaches.]


    "N-nonono stay away! S-stay away!"


    [All semblance of control is gone from Tulip''s voice. She makes her escape as fast as her one leg allows her, but it''s not quick enough. The static grows, and the song-like cry of her pursuer echoes deeper into the hallway.]


    "G-gh¡­ c-come on, don''t¡­"


    [A gasp leaves Tulip''s mouth.]


    "Door! D-doo¨C!"


    [There''s a sound like a powerful gust of wind, and Tulip''s words are knocked out of her mouth as an invisible force slams against her from behind. She grunts and lurches forward involuntarily, crashing against something hollow and metallic. Another door.


    Tulip begins to slide, but she comes back to herself and grabs onto the door for dear life, pushing herself up in the few moments it takes Gardevoir to reach her. The static grows so sharp it almost swallows every other sound. Tulip is heard taking a quick, sudden breath, and then she yells from the depth of her chest.]


    "HAAAAAAH!"


    [She slams her shoulder against the door and, miraculously, it opens. Tulip doesn''t so much cross it as she tumbles to the other side, but she doesn''t fall. Landing on uneven foot, she instantly turns around and slams the door closed, pressing against it with all of her weight. The static gets slightly weaker.]


    "Hgh.. haah¡­ w-what t¨C!"


    [A boom shakes through the room, but this one is weaker, not all-encompassing. It sounds more like Gardevoir simply crashed against the door with her own body.


    Tulip doesn''t waste the little time that gives her.]


    "Knife, knife c-come on where did I¡­ h-here, here!"


    [She unsheathes the knife with one hand and stays pressed against the door, breathing so quickly it''s hard to say if she''s inhaling any air at all.]


    "C-can''t see¡­ can''t see behind me, it''s another room but it''s a-all dark, I don''t know if I can keep¡­!"


    [She stops herself as she hears the sound of Gardevoir rising again, the static growing in power. Tulip lets out a sound almost like a sob and breathes in deep.]


    "I h-have to get her with the knife. W-when she opens the door, I only have one ch¨C"


    [Gardevoir doesn''t give her time to prepare or finish her sentence, and she doesn''t as much open the door as she instantly blasts it with another burst of psychic energy, so sudden and powerful that the smaller door is instantly blown off its hinges, taking Tulip flying alongside it.


    The impact of steel against floor reverberates for a moment, drowning both the static and Tulip''s scream of pain as the door bounces off her body and onto the side. She tries to incorporate, but her hand slips and she falls again, crushing and muffling the recorder with her own body.]


    "GHK!"


    [Unable to push herself up, Tulip desperately claws at the floor and tries to drag herself forward, but every inch gained seems to pull at her wound, earning sobs and cries of pain occasionally interrupted by curses. The static grows to almost swallow every other sound as Gardevoir hovers closer. By the time she''s upon her, Tulip''s voice and the sound as she flicks her switchblade is almost unintelligible.]


    "G-get a,a,way, get away! P-please n¨C


    HGHK! GHAAAH!"


    [There''s a sweep-like sound as Tulip''s body is lifted off the ground with violent ease. The knife and the recorder both fall to the ground, bouncing a few feet away.


    Tulip is heard from farther away, but clearer as the static weakens ever so slightly due to the distance. She thrashes against the invisible force, but only for a second. There''s a gasp, followed by a thinness in her voice as she is suddenly unable to speak or breathe. She claws at her throat, frenzied, but nothing changes.


    Gardevoir hums. It''s like the sound a bell makes, only stretched out, interminable. It drowns over both the audio and Tulip herself as her gasps and struggles weaken, slowly, second by second. In no time at all, her hands are heard falling against her sides. The only sound that remains is a single, long gasp for air that won''t come, a thin thread of sound instants from being severed.¡ä


    The hum intensifies. Tulip''s voice goes out, but another, more distant sound replaces it. Steps. Slow, deliberate, stealthy.


    Gardevoir is too preoccupied to notice the sudden presence until it''s too late.]


    HHAH!


    [The steps get quicker as someone approaches, then grunts and slams something thin and metallic against what sounds like Gardevoir''s head. The impact is strong enough to shatter the weapon in two.


    Gardevoir''s hum explodes into a sharp cry as she falls into a heap on the ground, followed soon enough by Tulip. Two more steps are heard, strong and deliberate. Gardevoir is heard turning on the ground and lets out a confused and pained hum, but it''s interrupted as heavy boots fall upon her stick-like arms, breaking them like glass.]


    "W-WHA¨C!"


    [Tulip''s voice is interrupted by the ghastly shriek that comes out of Gardevoir''s mouth, so sharp and powerful it peaks the audio to its limits. The new arrival says something, but her voice is lost amidst the scream.


    Regardless, she raises the long, thin piece of metal and holds it in place for a moment before driving it down. The squelch it makes as it drives into what little remains of Gardevoir''s flesh is wet and crackly, like stepping on soaking branches. The person does it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure, until the struggling stops and the cries die down.]


    ¡­There, that should do it.


    [The person takes a step back from the corpse, pressing the piece of metal against the ground like a baseball player resting its bat. She takes a few quick breaths.]


    I never imagined you''d have the nerve to show yourself here again.


    [The woman says that without moving, without turning to look at Tulip, who''s too busy shaking and hyperventilating to reply right away. Only unintelligible mutters come out.]


    "Y-y¡­wh-wha¡­re you¡­"


    [The piece of metal scrapes against the floor as the woman lifts it up and takes two steps toward Tulip, letting out a sigh.]


    Do you recognize me?


    "M¡­ Marie?"


    [A breath leaves Marie, though it''s hard to tell if it''s a gasp or a sigh.]


    So you do. You haven''t forgotten that much, yet.


    "Wh¡­ why are you h¨C?"


    [Marie swings the piece of metal down toward Tulip, making it whistle as it cuts through the air.]


    "GH-AAH!"


    [It doesn''t connect, but only because Marie stops it before actually hitting Tulip. There is a short, poignant silence before the woman speaks.]


    On your back. Don''t try to get up.


    [Tulip obeys immediately, turning to lay on her back, her breathing quick and fearful.]


    Good. Now, don''t speak and listen carefully¡­ Tulip.


    [There''s a rise of anger and disgust in her face as she pronounces that name, as though she wished she could use any other to refer to Tulip]


    There''s a part of me that''s telling me to kill you now, and not give you a chance to try anything. There''s another part that''s telling me I could use you. Both as bait and to answer my questions, and¡­ the latter only slightly outweighs the former. So I''m going to lay down a rule, and if you break it, the balance will shift. Nod if you understand.


    [Tulip nods, uncertain hums echoing in her throat.]


    Perfect. Then, here''s the rule.


    You''ll ask no questions of any kind. No direct questions, no leading questions, no statements that could be inquisitive in nature. Nothing that would activate your powers, nothing that would trick me into giving you information or memories I don''t want you to have.


    "M-my pow¡­?"


    [There''s a sharp inhale, and Tulip immediately realizes her mistake.]


    "Y-yes, I understand! I won''t ask anything!"


    [Marie says nothing for a few seconds, still holding the piece of metal down against Tulip. Finally, however, she sighs and lowers it. Exhaustion is clear in her voice.]


    I¡­ understand it won''t be an easy habit to break, even if you actively try to. So as long as you catch yourself before fully asking a question¡­


    "R-right¡­"


    [An awkward silence grows between them for a few seconds. Tulip is most likely trying to think of what to say without being inquisitive.]


    ¡­It''s alright I''m good at reading people, and even if I weren''t, it''d be easy to guess what you want to ask me. As long as you don''t voice the questions out loud, I can give you the answers, if I think you''ve earned them. Understand?


    "Yes. Y-yes, I get it."


    Mhm. Now¡­


    [Marie takes a step closer, leaning down slightly.]


    Can you get up?


    [Tulip mumbles a few half-broken words before she can get the correct ones out.]


    "I¡­ I think my splint got loose. I didn''t l-land on that foot, but the fall¡­"


    Stay still. I''ll secure it.


    [Marie lowers to her knees in front of Tulip, but she doesn''t let go of the long piece of metal for a good few seconds.]


    ¡­This is not the only weapon I have, in case you''re thinking of trying anything.


    "I-I won''t! Why woul¡­?"


    [Tulip stops herself again, barely in time. Marie lets out an annoyed breath.]


    In that case, bite on your sleeve or any piece of fabric. This will hurt.


    [It must, judging by the muffled, extended cry of pain that leaves Tulip''s mouth once Marie secures the splint in place again. Scratching is heard as Tulip drags the fingers of her free hand through the rocky ground underneath her, body shaking violently for a few seconds.


    Once finished, Marie stands up and walks to Tulip''s side, kneeling again to offer her support.]


    Here.


    "A-ah¡­ t-thank you."


    [Tulip is raised to her feet with a grunt, and she immediately throws herself against the nearest wall, using it as a crutch. She presses against it for a while, breathing, in and out. ]


    So that''s how you made it so far, even with a broken leg. Clever.


    "Y¡­yeah¡­"


    Hm. Here, don''t forget this.


    [The audio rattles as Marie kneels down to pick the recorder. She spins it around for a moment, then hands it over to Tulip.]


    "Thanks."


    Don''t mention it.


    [Another, even longer awkward silence grows between the two women. Seconds pass, almost turning into a minute before Tulip finally breaks the ice.]


    "I''m¡­ glad to see you. Alive. Even if¡­ you threatened to kill me."


    [Marie makes a sound that could almost be construed as a chuckle.]


    Seeing you again didn''t make me feel as eager to kill you as I thought it would, for whatever that''s worth.


    "A sentimental reunion all around, it seems."


    Hm. So quick to jump back on the sass. That is not a habit of yours I miss, if you must know.


    "Yeah, well¡­ I have to cope somehow. Kind of¡­ a lot going on right now, ha."


    No doubt.


    [Marie grunts tiredly as she leans down to pick up the metal stick again, and hoists it over her shoulder.]


    Can you move along the wall? It''d be best to keep moving as we talk.


    "I think so, yes. It hurts, but¡­"


    [Tulip makes a mumbling sound that seems to say ''What can you do?'']


    Good. Come on, then.


    [Tulip''s short hops resume again, this time accompanied by Marie''s steps as they make their way through the narrow hallway. They advance slowly, carefully. Might be to keep an eye out, may be so that they don''t run out of breath as they talk.]


    ¡­I''m surprised you made it here again, after what happened. Do you remember what this place is?


    "I-yes. Not this hallway s-specifically but¡­ ah, this is kind of a big bunker, right? It''s the center that all the tunnels connect to. I found one of the other entrances last time. In that footage I¡­ must''ve shown you."


    [Marie says nothing, and a very poignant, heavy silence fills the hallway. Tulip opens her mouth, most likely to ask what was wrong, but stops herself, remembering the woman''s rule.]


    Yes, that''s right. This¡­ bunker, as you called it, is situated under the east shore of Wysteria, half underground, half sub-fluvial, and it has a diameter of about three-quarters of a kilometer.


    [Tulip doesn''t ask, but her silence is heavy with the question, which Marie notices.]


    I had more than enough time to mentally map out the place during the time I''ve been here.


    "Then¡­"


    You''re wondering if I''ve been here ever since you woke up in that hotel room, bereft of a good number of your memories? No, not for quite that long. I''ve arrived here only recently, when my options ran out.


    [Tulip stops in place, and shortly after Marie does too, her foot shuffling slightly as she turns to look at her.]


    "¡­I¨C"


    You remember nothing from the last two years, is that right?


    [Tulip swallows audibly.]


    "You read the fragments."


    Yes. Not all of them. As you can guess, internet is hard to come by down here, but still.


    "Which¡­?"


    [Again, Tulip stops herself, but it''s clear she''s finding it harder and harder each time. The hand holding the recorder shakes with anxiousness.]


    Is it true, then? When you woke up, was Alakazam really¡­?


    "I¡­ I''m sorry. I don''t remember what happened, I¡­"


    ¡­I see.


    [It''s only there for a moment. A hint of pain, a wobble in Marie''s voice. She snuffs it out quickly by clearing her throat, and then turns around and takes a step forward, urging Tulip to follow. She does, after a moment, and they both continue as the woman speaks.]


    It seems that over these past few weeks, you''ve gathered most of the information it took¡­ us, almost two years to obtain. Regarding the Institute, their Stigmas, and the reason behind their experiments on Wysteria''s people.


    "Y-yes. I''m guessing none of those entries was any surprise to you, then."


    One of them was. Your interview with that girl¡­ Shadi Dawn.


    "I¡­ right. I figured¡­"


    Said interview took place in the week between our first separation and our last meeting, so I never had the chance to read it until recently. Its contents were¡­ bafflingly illuminating, to be honest. After reading it, everything seemed to finally click into place.


    "I don''t think I¡­ follow."


    [Marie stays silent for a few moments, only the sound of their uneven footsteps echoing down the hallway.]


    We investigated together for two years, searching every nook and cranny for information regarding the Institute, all the while keeping ourselves hidden from their eyes. But after some time, the well simply ran dry. There were no more survivors, no more ex-citizens. There were no more crumbs for us to pick up, and as such the only source of information still available to us¡­


    "Was the town itself."


    The tunnels, more specifically. The idea surfaced more than a few times, and each one I argued against it, claiming that our safety was paramount, and that another visit to those tunnels should be a last resort. Eventually, though, said resort was all we had left.


    "We came here, then."


    It was foolhardy, but we were desperate. I came along despite the protests, and brought Alakazam with me in case that Gardevoir from that footage was still down here. And¡­ she was, but she was not alone. One of the Stigma accompanied her.


    "Wh¨Cwas¡­? I mean¡­"


    It was not the Fourth, nor the Third, nor any I''d met before. She was young, had a grim look to her and¡­ despite our fears, seemed much more open to talk than anyone from the Institute should have. Of course, you¡­ wouldn''t have it. I tried to argue for a temporary truce, but by the time I''d opened my mouth you were already charging at her, knife in hand.


    "That¡­"


    [Tulip lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle.]


    "¡­sounds like me, yeah."


    It was an understandably short peace talk, and despite her previous willingness to talk, the girl did not hold back when it came to defending herself. Alakazam and I¡­ well, I don''t need to tell you how powerful a member of his species can be. But even then, we stood no chance.


    We escaped with our lives¡­ barely. You didn''t make it in time to teleport alongside us, but you clearly managed to escape nonetheless¡­ somehow.


    "And after that¡­ Shadi approached me for that interview."


    I assume so. Which is what gave you the idea to go back to the town itself, to revisit your past at her behest. I didn''t know this, of course, but I figured you''d head there anyhow. It was, after all, our agreed-upon meeting place should we be forcefully separated. Your idea.


    "I¡­ feel like I would''ve much sooner nominated your hideout as a meeting place."


    You did, and I refuted the idea. I trusted you, but not as far as letting you know where said hideout was, which is why Alakazam had to teleport you out and then back in whenever you left. I am a very cautious woman, as you know.


    "¡­Right. So I''m guessing we had a specific meeting point in the town itself."


    Yes. An address you yourself gave me, claiming it to be your old home. Imagine my surprise when I headed there and found the Miller''s residence instead.


    [A heavy silence follows those words. Tulip doesn''t say anything for a while.]


    The same happened today, didn''t it?


    "That''s¡­ my home is out there, I know. I just¡­ got my memories confused or something."


    ¡­You''re half right.


    [Tulip opens her mouth, and then again stops herself just before letting the question out. This time, though, Marie doesn''t entertain it.]


    I got there a bit before you and, confused as I was, wasted no time in investigating the house itself. And what I found there was¡­ in all honesty, more than I could have ever hoped to dream.


    [Tulip stays quiet, but her curiosity can almost be heard through the recorder. Marie obliges, after a moment of silence.]


    I found the entrance to these tunnels, thanks to Alakazam''s psychic abilities, but that was not all. Upstairs, in what I could only assume was the Miller''s bedroom, I found two peculiar objects. The first was a tape. The kind that would be played by that recorder in your hand.


    "Wait¡­"


    And the second was¡­ well, it was hard to describe. An object mired in nothingness. Every one of its angles and surfaces almost impossible to discern by the naked eye. A true anomaly, if I do say so myself.


    [Tulip stops walking and, expecting so, Marie does the same. They turn to look at each other.]


    "That''s¡­ the Griseous Orb."


    So you remember.


    "N-no, I¡­ A-agh!"


    [Tulip takes a sudden tumble back, pressing her back against the wall and grabbing at her head with a hand, groaning in pain.]


    "Pl-ease¡­ j-just stop dancing around it and tell me what happened."


    ¡­Dear Mew¡­


    [She speaks those words in exasperation, letting out a sigh.]


    You should know by now. I knew little of the second object, but I was able to listen to the tape before you arrived. Its contents were¡­ baffling. But illuminating. It was a tape recorded here, in the center of this very underground bunker. Starring none other than Tulip. It took place shortly after that footage you showed me, I''m sure.


    "Wh¡­ then¡­"


    [The hand holding the recorder moves to press against Tulip''s pocket, where the tape she was given by Lynne rests.]


    After listening to it, I of course had a few choice questions I wanted to ask you¡­ preferably with Alakazam at my side. Luckily for me, it didn''t take you long to arrive after that. But I couldn''t quite question you, as there was¡­ another problem. You were confused, furious, yelling at everything around you. Unraveling at the seams, if I were to guess. Seeing that house where your home would have been must''ve been quite the shock to you.


    "I¡­ the same thing happened¡­ today. When Lynne¡­"


    It was¡­ chaos. Fear and paranoia gripped us and¡­ even I acted foolishly, I admit. I aired my own grievances born from listening to that tape, and you countered with your usual inability to handle your own negative emotions. It''s no wonder a fight soon broke out.


    "I¡­ a fight?"


    It didn''t last long. Alakazam doubted when he should''ve immobilized you, but only for a moment. But then you¡­ you saw that second object falling from my pocket. The Griseous Orb, you called it. Suddenly, something in you¡­ changed. You didn''t seem like the same person as before, and your eyes¡­


    [Marie holds her tongue for a moment, trying to find the words.]


    They were¡­ wrong. You got up and stopped trying to fight or resist me. You just stood there, staring, until you said¡­ you said you remembered something.


    Then with¡­ a speed I wouldn''t have thought possible from you, you took the Griseous Orb and ran toward the foyer. Alakazam helped me up to my feet and we followed you. By the time we got there, you''d finished¡­ writing a note, I believe. Then¡­


    [Marie closes her mouth and makes a strange, irritated sound.]


    The¡­ memory is fuzzy, for some reason. I know you did something with the Orb, but¡­


    "I gave it to Lynne."


    [Marie says nothing. Tulip swallows, and when she speaks there''s a clear fear in her voice.]


    "That''s¡­ what the note said. But then I¡­ when he gave it back to me, I lost it again. Shadi took it. She probably still has it."


    [Another silence follows, heavier, tenser. Something in Marie shuffles; she lowers her weapon and presses a hand against what sounds like a pocket.]


    She doesn''t.


    "Wh¨C"


    [Nonchalantly, she pulls an object out of her pocket that sounds like¡­ nothing. It''s like there''s a hole in the recording. No sound seems to emanate from Marie''s hand anymore, even when she moves it.]


    "T¡­ that''s the¡­"


    How do you think I managed to avoid that Gardevoir for the past few days? Just holding it seems to hide my presence to all near.


    "I¡­ c-come on, I know I can''t ask questions but¡­"


    [She doesn''t say anything else, but her question is clear.]


    I simply¡­ found it. Here, in the heart of these tunnels, after I had no choice but to hide down here. I was being pursued by Gardevoir at the time. I hid myself in one of the many rooms littered throughout the complex and¡­ there atop an old, abandoned table, I found it. As though whoever left there had somehow known I''d choose that room out of all the dozens to hide in.


    There was a note next to it. Written in rather handsome calligraphy, it read¡­ ''Don''t worry, Shadi no longer needs this. Make use of it as you see fit.'' It was signed by nothing more than the number 7.


    "T¡­ the seventh¡­"


    Most likely. I care not for her reasons, nor whatever in-group disagreements might have led her to lending me a hand. I''m just happy to be alive.


    "I¡­"


    [Tulip is without words. She mumbles to herself for a moment, and Marie lets out another sigh.]


    What led me down here¡­ is, I imagine, much the same as what happened to you today.


    "I was¡­ Lynne and I¡­"


    Fought because of something he''d discovered about you, and your ensuing outburst attracted the attention of the Third. Is that right?


    "Then that''s it? She¡­"


    It was¡­ chaotic, even more so amidst the chaos we were already in. Her Delphox was too strong, much stronger than Alakazam, and there wasn''t much we could do other than try to escape. But¡­ she didn''t make it easy for us. I think the only reason we survived the encounter was because she wasn''t after me, and that meant I had a few more seconds to think than anyone else.


    I was near the entrance door with Alakazam. He was¡­ hurt, barely keeping himself standing. And not too far, in the middle of the foyer, were you and the Third. Her Delphox had you pinned a few inches off the ground with her psychic powers. The Third walked up to you and¡­ extended her hand to touch your face. A hand hemmed in black flames.


    [Tulip lets go of the breath she''s been holding. She takes a step back, swallowing.]


    "So that''s it. That''s why I couldn''t remember¡­"


    I''m guessing you already put together what the Third''s blossoming granted her.


    "Yes. It''s¡­ her Pokemon of choice was a Chandelure, a-and the way she did it¡­ she can erase people, can''t she. Or, well not people but¡­"


    Soul, spirit, anima, whichever word you''d rather use. Much like a Chandelure could, the Third seems capable of using those flames to erase any part she wants of a person''s¡­ self, including memories, emotions and goals. At her strongest, she might be able to reduce someone to a soulless husk.


    "¡­Then she got me."


    Only the last two years. She would have gotten a lot more out of you if Alakazam hadn''t intervened in time. I¡­ hesitated, I admit. I might''ve saved you from more of it had I not, but after what I''d learned¡­


    [There''s a hint of guilt in Marie''s face, but she''s quick to erase it.]


    Regardless, I decided you were of more use to me alive than dead. I instructed Alakazam to attack Delphox. She repelled it without much effort, but had to let go of you to do so. He used that moment to teleport in between you and the Third and grab you, with all the intent of teleporting you to a certain location in Cerulean where we could meet up soon after.


    I¡­ by this point, I was of course long gone. It wouldn''t do for the Third to realize you were gone, only to have the person responsible mere feet from her. I was already running as fast as my legs could carry me, so I didn''t see¡­ I didn''t see what happened, but judging by your description of Alakazam''s state in the first of your fragments¡­ he barely got you out of there, and only by paying with his life.


    [Neither of them say anything for a few seconds. Tulip swallows, and the recorder creaks a bit as her grip on it tightens.]


    "So that''s what happened."


    [Marie lets out a huffy grunt.]


    You could''ve learned this much sooner had you stayed in that hotel in Cerulean and waited for me instead of running off¡­ though I understand why you did it.


    "You mean other than because I woke up confused and amnesiac next to a corpse."


    Mhm.


    "So then when you came over and didn''t find me¡­"


    You hadn''t uploaded that first fragment yet, and knowing you I had no reason to believe you still remained within the city. Besides, it''s not like time or patience were on my side. I was on the run -closely followed by the Third- and would continue to be so for a time until I finally decided to hide within these tunnels.


    "But I don''t¡­"


    [Tulip trails off. There''s that sudden inhalation that comes with realization, and when she talks again she sounds careful, confused.]


    "You¡­ haven''t mentioned anything about Lynne all this time. He would''ve escaped with me, right? He ended up in Cerulean too, and he didn''t remember anything either."


    [Marie says nothing. She simply breathes in then out in a way that sounds like a tired sigh.


    Then, she starts walking again.]


    Come on, we''re not too far now.


    "Wh¨Chey, wait! What''s¡­!?"


    [Tulip follows as quickly as she can, and is soon cut off by Marie.]


    There''s a better answer to that question¡­ and many others you probably wouldn''t want to ask, than I could give you. And they are all in that tape you found.


    "But¡­ t-then, I have the recorder right here, I could just¡­"


    There''s something you have to see first. The center of this place. Like I said, we''re not too far now. Here¡­


    [Marie walks a few more steps, then there''s a clanking sound as she raises her hand and opens the door at the end of the hallway, inviting in a gust of air that is picked up by the recorder. The echoing of Marie''s steps as she walks through indicates that this room is much taller and wider. Tulip maneuvers around the wall and steps out too.]


    "Wh¨Cthe fuck? Are those chairs? This looks like¡­"


    An auditorium, yes. See how the floor slopes downward and the walls narrow?


    "But¡­ this is¡­"


    Why would there be an auditorium in a place like this? I asked myself the same question, until I did some exploring and realized it is not an auditorium at all. It is a waiting room. That''s what the chairs are for, I suppose.


    "W-waiting¡­"


    See how there are many other doors that lead here? That''d be the other rooms in the bunker, each of which lead to a different tunnel. This is the center. All the other rooms and facilities were likely there to keep the people of Wysteria healthy and alive after they were taken here. But this¡­ this is what awaited them all. And see that wall there at the end? That door?


    That''s our destination.


    [Marie starts walking down the small steps, and Tulip follows soon after, frantic.]


    Let''s make haste. You can use the chairs as crutches to go along.


    "I-y-yeah I know, I''m going but¡­ couldn''t you¡­?"


    [They advance slowly, mostly because Marie has to wait for Tulip. Even so, she stays silent for a while. Reluctant to answer Tulip''s implicit question, perhaps.


    A few seconds pass, and the two women make it halfway down, closer to the door on the opposite side of the room. Marie finally opens her mouth to speak.]


    I''ve found it curious, you know. Ever since I heard the contents of that tape. I have memories of you bringing Lynne along one day and declaring him to be¡­ your assistant. I remember our conversation on the subject. How, despite all odds, you managed to convince me, even though I deemed just your knowledge of my hideout to be dangerous. And yet, every time I''d look back on it, your words would placate me. It just made sense. Of course it was a good idea to bring him along, to have the two of you work together. Even if I couldn''t quite remember how the two of you had met. Even if I knew nothing about him. Even if it was odd that he stayed with us despite my place only having two rooms and two beds.


    Even if¡­ reading and hearing those past entries and interviews, he was never there. He never spoke, was never mentioned by either of us.


    I found it curious indeed.


    [Tulip struggles to keep up with Marie''s pace. Yet her breathing gets slower, quieter, with every word the woman speaks, unconsciously holding her breath. She lets go of it once Marie stops in front of the door. Tulip hunches over forward, pressing against the wall, and stays silent for a long moment.]


    "What¡­ what are you saying?"


    [It''s not clear, but the sound of shuffling hair and the sudden grip of Tulip''s fingers on the recorder hint that Marie turns to look straight at her.]


    I''m saying I know what you are, Tulip. Both of you. And if I must, I suppose I will congratulate you on a job well done. I am a hard woman to deceive, but you really went the extra mile. No hard feelings, though. I would''ve done the same.


    "Wh¡­ I''m¡­ not everything revolves around you. I have no idea what you''re talking about."


    No. I suppose, from your perspective, everything revolves around you, doesn''t it? In more ways than you''re conscious of.


    "W-what?"


    Say, I don''t remember you wearing gloves before. Is there something in your palms you''re hiding from me? Or perhaps¡­ you''re trying to hide it from yourself?


    [Tulip''s breathing ceases. She stays perfectly still, the only sound that can be heard that of a distant, weak underlying static on the edge of the recording.]


    "That''s¡­ they put it on me. Some sort of joke. They wanted to¡­ make fun of me. Of my mission, and¡­"


    [Marie doesn''t respond. She simply sighs and takes a step forward, grabbing the handle of the door.]


    It doesn''t matter whether you''ve accepted it or not. Come on.


    [The door screeches open, rusty hinges groaning and creaking. Marie steps in first and, making her way through the edge of the wall, Tulip enters soon after.


    That odd static permeates through the recording, stronger this time, pulsing on and off like a heartbeat.


    Neither of them say anything for a few seconds. Tulip is the first one to speak.]


    "It''s¡­ like an interrogation room."


    Small room, concrete walls, a small table and two chairs¡­ not like, that is exactly what it is. I''ve been in plenty of rooms like this before. Though I must say¡­ that wide hole from wall to wall is a new addition.


    [The static pulses again, as though replying to Marie''s acknowledgment. It seems to come from the back of the room, most likely said hole she mentions.]


    "I don''t¡­ get it. This just looks like a norm¨CAGH!"


    [Tulip takes a single step forward, and the static in the room bursts like an explosion of noise and pitch. At the same time, Tulip shrieks in pain and falls to her knees. She does not let go of the recorder, but it creaks loudly under her grip.]


    "W-what was¡­ that? What did I just¡­?"


    You had a vision, I assume? A memory of this place.


    [Tulip can''t stop shaking. It takes her a few seconds to be able to reply.]


    "I¡­ I saw my¡­self. The one from that footage, here. S-sitting in that¡­"


    So I figured.


    "What is¡­? I-it came from that¡­ it c-came from that hole in the back there. What''s¡­?"


    Pay no mind to it for now. Knowing would just make this next part difficult, so for now¡­


    [Marie kneels and puts Tulip''s arm around her shoulders, lifting her up effortlessly. Tulip can''t reply or refuse the help. She''s too busy shaking like a leaf, incoherent mumbles leaving her mouth.


    Slowly, Marie helps her across the room and sits her down in one of the chairs. The one overlooking the door, judging by the sound. Then she goes around and sits on the other one, gently placing her hands atop the table.]


    How about we get started on that tape?

 Fragment #10: Stigma

    The following is a transcription of the tape found by Lynne and Tulip on the second floor of the Miller''s house. It takes place shortly after Tulip''s initial capture by the Gardevoir guarding the tunnels underneath Wysteria.


    That is all. Enjoy.


    <hr>


    [The recorder comes alive with a burst of static, and that static persists as the person carrying it walks through what sounds like a long and narrow tunnel, their slow steps echoing.


    Another sound can be heard in the distance. The person carrying the recorder opens a door onto what sounds like a much larger room, and starts walking down a set of stairs. And as they approach the door they will soon open, what at first sounds like a heated conversation behind it turns out to be the struggles and growls and cocktail of insults of a single woman, sitting on the other end of the room the mysterious person enters.


    Immediately, the woman''s struggles cease. Judging by the raspy, creaking sound, it seems as though she''s bound by rope and cannot move. But she can clearly still talk.]


    "W-w-who are you!? Ge-get away from me!"


    [The person holding the recorder doesn''t take a single step forward. They simply close the door behind them, unbearably slowly.]


    So it was true. When I heard Gardevoir had captured someone new, I hoped it to be some clueless hiker who''d found the entrance to these tunnels by accident. Yet across all the possible paths I glimpsed onto, almost zero times that was the case. This was to be expected, I suppose.


    [It''s a young girl''s voice, not sounding older than twenty. Deep and melodious, she talks with small pauses after every few words, as though she were constantly getting distracted mid-sentence.


    The bound woman is without words for a moment.]


    "Is¡­ Is the Gardevoir yours? Were you the one who¡­ are you¡­?"


    You should be afraid, Tulip, but not of me. I am only here for confirmation.


    "T-then¡­"


    [Tulip takes in a deep breath, collecting herself. When she talks again, she sounds less panicked, her voice almost firm.]


    "Aren''t you¡­ with them? The ones who¡­"


    ¡­Yes. But this is not my territory.


    "What?"


    Wysteria is under the Fourth and the Sixth''s supervision. I am the Seventh."


    [Tulip inhales sharply, as though she''s been slapped across the face.]


    "You¡­ you are one of them, then! Y-you¡­!"


    [She growls and snarls and struggles against her bindings even more fiercely. The girl before her sighs.]


    I don''t mean to call you uncourteous or anything of the sort, but do you really think you have the luxury of insulting the one living thing that hasn''t yet attacked you down here?


    "Shut up! Just¡­ fuck off and die! Why are you even here!? Did you think it''d be fun to taunt me!?"


    I am here to help you.


    [Tulip scoffs, as though she were spitting out a mouthful of poison.]


    "Help me? Sure, why not! Why don''t you get me out of these ropes then? I''ll really show you some fucking courtesy then."


    I won''t. There is a hundred percent probability of you assaulting me were I to release you from your binds.


    "Then what good are you to me? Do you think I don''t know why that thing captured me? Do you think I''m stupid enough to believe you''re¡­ you''re not here to¡­ kill me?"


    I would gain nothing by hurting you, yet I would lose nothing from your death. Your existence is insignificant to me. The only reason I''m here is because I felt as though I needed to be. That''s why I brought this, too.


    [Judging by the shush sound the recorder makes, the girl is showing it to Tulip.]


    "W-wh¡­ is that my recorder?"


    Hm. I figured as much. Then it was a good idea to pick it up. Do you use it frequently?


    "I¡­ n-no, I mostly just¡­ I rarely use it, I''m more used to writing things... down."


    [Confusion is clear in Tulip''s voice, seemingly enough to put her anger on hold for the moment.]


    Then I suppose it was meant to be. I''m starting to get a clearer idea of why I was guided to you. Here¡­ you can have it back.


    "Wh¡­!"


    [Tulip tries to shy away, but she is against the wall and unable to move further back. The girl kneels down and slips the recorder onto her pocket, standing back up and taking a step back before Tulip can throw herself at her.


    The next words come somewhat muffled, but still hearable.]


    "Why did you¡­ I-I don''t¡­"


    I don''t question the whims of fate. I obey.


    [The girl is heard turning around, and taking a single step away before Tulip calls out.]


    "Wait! Where are you going!? You can''t just¡­!"


    [She probably remembers just then who she''s talking to, and clamps her mouth shut. Still, the girl stops on her tracks. She says nothing for a few seconds, but then lets out a short, dry chuckle and speaks.]


    The Fourth was also alerted, so she''ll be here soon. Knowing your boundless persistence, you''ll make an impeccable test subject for her experiment. The possibility of you surviving is¡­ low. But it is not quite zero. The stars burn bright. It is a good night for miracles.


    "S-stars? What are you talking about!?"


    My time runs out. I have only one piece of advice to give to you: stay true to yourself. Remember your core. The very reason for your existence. If you mire yourself in it and raise it as a shield, it might just be enough to save you from total oblivion. It won''t earn you freedom, however. Nothing will. But I have a feeling you''d prefer a long, pointless struggle to a short, meaningful one. You must protect your own life, no matter how much of that life might be suffering.


    You are in charge of remembering them, after all.


    [Tulip is unable to speak for a short while. When she finally does, her voice is thin and distraught.]


    "Why¡­ are you helping me?"


    Because fate wanted it to be that way. And¡­ if I''m honest, I don''t particularly like the Fourth. I find this Wysteria experiment of hers and the Sixth''s to be particularly distasteful.


    Still, like I said, you mean nothing to me, Tulip. But even so, I will offer a prayer to your survival.


    [Tulip swallows audibly. Then, forcing out a dry laugh, she speaks.]


    "I mean nothing, huh? And what if I tell your pals you''re working against them when they come for me?"


    I don''t believe you''d throw away your chance at survival just to spite me. But that is a good question. Hypothetically, if you were to sell me out¡­


    [Just then, a potent burst of static bursts through the recording, sharp and shriek like tiny needles. When the girl speaks again, her voice has an ominous weight to it.]


    Your fate will be nothing but a wall of zeros.


    "What¡­ does that..?"


    Goodbye, Tulip. May the stars favor you.


    "Wait! W-wait, don''t¡­!"


    [She is interrupted by the sound of the door slamming shut, the girl''s steps echoing less and less, until they disappear completely.


    Tulip sits there, dumbfounded noises leaving her mouth. It''s only after almost a full minute that she''s able to speak again.]


    "What¡­ what the fuck, even¡­"


    [She laughs. It''s a discordant sound, with all the fear and desperation tinted through it.]


    "This¡­ this is really happening. I really just went and fucked myself more than I could''ve even imagined. And all because of a diary¡­"


    [A long sigh leaves her lips. She is heard hitting the back of her head against the wall, softly enough not to wound, but hard enough for the concrete to echo. She mutters unintelligibly under her breath for a while, then stops.]


    "Dear Mew, I''m¡­ no it''s. It''s okay. It''ll be¡­ you knew this was going to happen. You knew, so no¡­ no more of this. Come on."


    [There''s a hint of a sob in the middle of her spiel, but she forcibly suppresses it and takes a deep breath, collecting herself.]


    "There, there we go. Calm and collected. I don''t care what that¡­ goth kid said, there has to be a way out of this. I just have to¡­ bide my time. See if I can get these ropes loose or¨C"


    [Tulip has no time to plan. A sudden, crackling sound like that of a thousand glimmers of flame blooming from a single point resounds throughout the room, peaking into a roar before dissipating.


    Tulip gasps and accidentally hits the back of her head against the wall. A single step is heard, as well as the inhalation coming from the room''s new arrival. There is also a subtle static, the kind that can only be caused by a psychic Pokemon''s interference.


    The new person hums for a moment to herself, most likely looking around for something. The cheery sound that leaves her throat indicates she finally sees Tulip, once her eyes adjust to the darkness.]


    Ah, there you are. Sorry for the delay; I assure you I made my way here as fast as I could.


    [There is not a single hint of concern or regret in the woman''s voice. It''s smooth and singsong, as though she were constantly on the verge of laughing. Malice drips from it like thick honey.]


    MmmmTulip¡­ was it? I am oh so glad to have you here. We''d ran out of test subjects some time ago, you see, and to have you deliver yourself to my doorstep so courteously¡­ why, that is so kind of you. You are just the piece I needed to test my theory o¨C


    "¡­Shut up."


    Oh? I''m sorry, have I said something wrong?


    "How¡­ f-fucking dare you¡­"


    [All the composure she''d been able to gather is gone from her voice now. It is nothing but hurt and anger and broken, bloodied glass.]


    "How can you¡­ smile and joke like that? H-how can you look so¡­!"


    [Her voice shakes and breaks, all semblance of calmness gone from her.]


    "Y-you piece of shit! Die! Slice your throat open and bleed rot and pus! Take your fucking head off and feed it to the Gyarados! I''ll kill you! I''ll¨C"


    Walpurgis, shut her up.


    [It sounds like a blast of wind cutting through the room, and suddenly Tulip is unable to speak. She growls and struggles, but no sound leaves her lips. They simply reverberate desperately through her throat.


    The woman before her lets out a relieved sigh.]


    There we go. I have to say, you''ve got some more colorful language than those brats I encountered back in Kalos. I appreciate the lack of heroics and clich¨¦ one liners. But I''m also not in the mood to be yelled at, so¡­


    [She doesn''t make a sound, but it''s not hard to imagine her shrugging.]


    Oh, but of course. My name is Malva, I''m sorry for not introducing myself before. No, there''s no need to growl or say anything. I know who you are. Your¡­ entries have proved a never-ending source of comedy during my afternoon coffee breaks. I''m almost heartbroken there won''t be any more of them. But all things must come to an end, don''t you think, Tulip?


    [Tulip''s response is a shaky mess of growling and struggling.]


    Right! I''m so glad you agree. Now, how about we skip the rest of the pleasantries and get down to business? Our guest of honor isn''t too far, if I had to guess.


    Walpurgis, would you sit her down here, please? Thank you.


    [That wind-like sound cuts through the recording again, and a sharper, more sudden growl reverberates through Tulip''s throat as she is apparently lifted from the floor. There''s a rush, as though she''s moved quickly through the air. Then a deaf thump as she is deposited upon one of the two chairs in the room, and immobilized.


    The Pokemon accompanying Malva whistles as to tell her master that the work is done.]


    Good job. Now, for the other part of this little puzzle¡­


    [Steps echo as Malva walks a few steps away from Tulip. The sound gets duller and harder to distinguish as she gets closer to the source of the distant static. The hole in the back of the room. She stops near the edge, and whispers something down. It is hard to make out, but it sounds like she''s calling onto something.


    The something answers back, first with an emptiness, a void of sound that swallows all in the same way air is inhaled when one breathes. Then, it shifts. Expands upwards, its movements being met with a spike of static in the recording which grows and grows until nothing else can be heard, and then slowly, very slowly tampers off, until it is only present in the distance, in the background.


    Noises of distress hum through Tulip''s throat. The something shifts closer, not quite moving, not quite walking, more like the slow advance of a noxious gas spreading through a room.


    It coalesces not too far from her, judging by the sound. All the separate and discordant noises join together into one, and the something becomes one in front of Tulip, the other chair shifting ever so slightly as it sits on it.


    Its breathing is vast, as though its lungs were the entire room. Yet instead of air, it seems to inhale and exhale sound. The recording goes quiet for a moment, then returns to normal, then is filled with static for another moment, and so on.


    Tulip struggles, her grunts terrified, but it doesn''t sound as though she can move much. Walpurgis'' psychic power keeps her in place.


    Malva chuckles.]


    I was right, you are a far cry from all the other hicks we fed to our friend here. Even in its presence, you still fight and struggle. Then again, I suppose the rest of your people were too physically and mentally exhausted to do anything but submit. I wished them no harm, truly. But I''d be lying if I said seeing you here doesn''t put a smile on my lips.


    [Tulip falls silent. Whatever expression she makes, Malva must find it terribly amusing, because she laughs again, and every word she speaks from then on is laced with that laughter, threatening to break out.]


    Now that is the face I wanted to see! Did you realize? Finally cooled your head enough to understand what this place is? What the opening behind me represents? You didn''t see any remains on your way here, did you? No blood, no corpses¡­ my, my, one can''t help but wonder, hmm?


    Oh come on, don''t glare at me like that. I know bodies are supposed to be disposed of with dignity, but what do you do when you''ve got so many of them on your hands? Propriety is hard to come by in such numbers, you see. Besides, thanks to our efforts, all of Wysteria''s citizens became so close in life¡­ a mass grave just felt appropriate! Now they will forever be joined in death too!


    [Her laugh explodes, laced throughout the static in sharp, painful peaks and valleys of sound. It is a disgusting sound. Like shards of glass stabbing in and out of one''s skin.


    Tulip''s furious grunts and shakes can barely be heard. She is quieted, muffled, her anger pouring wordlessly from her like steam rising out of a hot meal Malva intends to enjoy to the fullest.]


    Ahh, those eyes of yours! They''re telling me that was in bad taste, hmm? Well I can''t help myself! I won''t quite have the opportunity to gloat once Alberich''s here, so you can''t blame me for enjoying those tears of yours while I can¡­ after all, you''ve caused us no end of trouble yourself, Tulip. You and that other¡­


    [There''s a sudden quietness that can be heard through the recording. Malva stops talking, and takes a step to turn around. Even Tulip''s struggling ceases.


    A glimmer of sound similar to the one heralding Malva''s sudden appearance echoes through the room, louder than the last one, yet more hollow as well.]


    Hm, speaking of¡­ he arrived earlier than expected. Do make sure to behave and make me look good, hm?


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    [Tulip''s only answer is another furious growl.]


    Good girl.


    [The sound peaks, then disappears completely. Once it''s gone, another person''s presence takes its place. A single step is heard, then another, approaching the table.]


    ¡­Malva, yes? It is good to see you again.


    Same to you, sir. It''s been some time¡­ I must say, I''m a fan of the new look.


    [The man''s voice is low and smooth. It reverberates through the room and over the sound of static, as though it weren''t there. It''s a familiar voice, although not yet to the Tulip present in the recording. There''s no hint of malice in it, unlike with Malva. And although still present, the hints of an accent that future Tulip would be used to are almost completely gone in his voice.


    The man that would later call himself Lynne stays still and silent for a few seconds, until his eyes adjust. When he speaks again, his tone doesn''t change. It''s calm, monotone.]


    I was informed by the Third that you required my presence. I apologize for the delay. My accuracy with teleportation is, regrettably, lacking at the moment.


    There is no need to apologize. Such is expected so soon after your last switch. You will grow into it again, just as you have before.


    Mhm.


    [The man clears his throat, then addresses Malva again. It doesn''t sound as though he is good at small talk.]


    This place¡­ is it Wysteria''s singularity? I had trouble recognizing it at first. My memories, it seems, are still working their way through this new vessel.


    Well, there are a lot of them, after all.


    I suppose. Hm¡­


    [He takes a couple slow steps toward Tulip, silent for a moment.]


    I was aware of the form this particular singularity had taken, but I don''t believe I''ve seen it in person yet. But that is to be expected. I seem to recall being assured by you and Colress that you had everything under control.


    As always. And yes, that is it right there. Quite spectacular, isn''t it?


    It''s certainly a unique sight, but¡­


    [He makes a sound almost like a grunt of frustration, like someone hit by a sudden headache.]


    The¡­ specific details elude me at the moment, but I was under the impression the two of you had moved on from this experiment. Why have you called me here?


    Worry not, sir. I will explain.


    [There''s an eager excitement in Malva''s voice. She clears her throat and start pacing around the room as she talks.]


    Soon after Sanbica''s discovery of this singularity, Colress was put in charge of examining it. Do you remember the results?


    Somewhat. Besides serving as portals between worlds, singularities tend to manifest differently depending on where they appear. Like the fresco in Celestic or the formation of the Griseous Orb in Spear Pillar. This one was¡­ a blur of sorts, yes?


    Yes, exactly! A tremendous force that blurs the lines between souls, allowing two or more to mix in ways that would otherwise be impossible. Colress theorized that was the reason why the people of the town were so close to one another. He figured we might be able to use the phenomenon to study artificial bonds between humans and Pokemon, as well as find a way to more reliably carry out the Blossomings.


    ¡­Mhm, I remember now. And it was you who thought of an alternative experiment¡­ yet failed at executing it. Am I wrong?


    [Malva stops in place, choking on her next words. The sound that comes out of her throat just then is hot and venomous, barely composed.]


    I¡­ I was just mistaken. A couple variables weren''t taken into account. Please¡­ retract what you said about me failing. I haven''t failed, alright? I have¡­ never, not once in my life failed in any endeavor, so would you please¡­ take back those words?


    [The man staggers, a hint of concern in his voice.]


    I see. My apologies. In any case¡­ what was it that you wanted to show me?


    Right¡­ yes, of course.


    [Her pacing resumes, slower this time. It takes her a few sentences for her voice to compose itself again.]


    I had some thoughts about another way we could use this singularity''s unique properties¡­ a way that could aid you, sir. I theorized that, if its mere presence could blur the outline of Spirit from so far away¡­ then closer contact with one of Wysteria''s citizens could yield different results. My hope was that the singularity would absorb them completely. Memory, behavior¡­ everything that makes a person themselves, you could say. If that was the case, then¡­


    Ah. I see your point. You thought it might be a suitable alternative for me.


    Yes. Unfortunately, all of my previous trials were unsuccessful. Even after harvesting the citizens, none of them could be properly¡­ siphoned of their identity. Parts of them would be taken, would stick to the singularity, but everything else would disappear. Erased, because of the pull from the other side, I assume.


    Hm. And leaving behind nothing but empty husks. I''m starting to remember your words from back then. It is an interesting premise, but as you''ve said¡­ none of your experiments bore fruit, despite you having the entirety of Wysteria''s population at your disposal.


    [He walks closer to the table, to the silent Tulip, and the weight of his gaze can almost be felt as a whirr through the recording.]


    What would make her different from the rest?


    I''m glad you asked! I think it''d be better to just show you, so¡­ Walpurgis, if you will?


    [The Delphox makes another whistle-like sound, and the wind-like pressure running through the background of the recording disappears.


    Immediately, Tulip lurches forward. She gasps and splutters out mouthfuls of air, her breathing sharp and uneven. Unintelligible sounds not unlike broken, disjointed words and sentences leave her mouth. She sounds on the verge of a panic attack.]


    Now, s¨C


    [And yet, despite the state she is in, she gathers herself for just long enough to spit at Malva and the man.]


    Gh-shit, my blouse! Y-you¡­!


    Hm. Perhaps we should have stepped a few meters away.


    [Tulip laughs. Jagged, bitter, the sound of futile victory.]


    "Hah¡­ s-should apologize to my spit for making it touch something as rotten as y¨C"


    Singularity, absorb her.


    [Malva''s order lacks the glee and malice from before. Her voice drops lower, echoing unnaturally.


    Yet an instant later, another voice answers, deeper and colder. It is not a human voice. It is not even a human sound, or at least not one belonging to a single person. When the singularity speaks, it does so with the tone and cadence of hundreds of different people, as though it''s taken a sliver from each one of its victims and tried to mash it together into a single, coherent sound.


    It barely works. Were it not for all the voices'' only similarity ¨Cthe accent¨C it would be an incomprehensible mess of broken, disjointed words. As it is, it can somewhat be understood.]


    UNDER¡­stood. Who ARE Y¡­you?


    "GH-GHAH¡­!"


    [Tulip chokes. She throws herself back on the chair, but Walpurgis is quick to set her in place. She cannot move. A growl of struggle rises from her throat.]


    "W-wh¡­ w-what the¡­?"


    WHO A¡­re you?


    "I-I¡­ I''m¡­ I am¡­"


    [It sounds less like Tulip speaking and more like the words are being grabbed and pulled out from her chest against her will. She tries to fight against it. It doesn''t last long.]


    "My name is¡­ n-no. I am¡­ I''m Tulip. Tulip Glasslip."


    Who are y¡­ YOU?


    "I''m an¡­ ex-resident of Wysteria. I was born in the town t¡­t¡­twenty-nine y-years ago, but I''m¡­ I only¡­ lived there for about ten¡­"


    WHO A¡­re you?


    "I am¡­"


    [The entity keeps repeating the question, each time with a different, albeit still strange cadence, as though that difference was another question entirely.


    Tulip''s struggle gets weaker with every second that passes. The fear and anger in her voice start to subside, followed by every other recognizable emotion. Soon, it turns completely monotone.


    Malva''s voice resounds in the background while Tulip speaks.]


    Oh? I was so sure that ''Tulip'' was just a pen name.


    It might still be one. Objective truth need not apply to the way we humans see ourselves. It is likely she''s embraced her moniker to such an extent that she considers it her real name.


    I¡­ hadn''t considered that before. Heh¡­ still, it''s more proof of what I wanted to show you.


    In what way do you mean?


    Pay close attention to how she''s talking. The wavering in her voice, specifically.


    [They fall silent, listening to Tulip speak.]


    "¡­was the eve of winter when it happened, soon after my seventeenth birthday. And only a few months before everyone disappeared. I wasn''t even meant to still be back home. My two-week vacation was over, I was supposed to head back to the academy that morning, but all the bus rides were cancelled due to the weather. I remember it vividly. I''d never seen so much snow in my life; I''m pretty sure it was the biggest blizzard eastern Kanto had ever seen. And because of that, I had to stay home for a few more days."


    W¡­WHO ARE¡­ you?


    "I was¡­ happy, actually. Barring the holidays, I rarely had time to see my family for this long. Mom was very insistent that I focus on my education. She was¡­ strict. It was mostly dad and Narcie that I was happy to see¡­"


    [The man speaks up again, cutting over the monotone Tulip.]


    There is no wavering.


    Exactly. That is a rarity.


    [Malva sounds very pleased.]


    Normally by this point, the subjects would start wavering, stuttering. Losing their voice, basically. The more the singularity takes from them, the harder it is for them to keep going. Eventually, it reaches a point where they can''t put a single sentence together, no matter how much they''re compelled to. That''s when the singularity loses interest. It severs the bond, and the subjects are left as empty husks, what little remained of their Spirits vanishing into the air, while the singularity feasts on the rest.


    Hm. Then it could be said that no subject has ever been fully absorbed.


    It¡­ baffled me at first. I thought that maybe my initial assumption had been wrong¡­ that it was impossible to use the singularity the way I''d intended.


    [She lets out a low chuckle.]


    But I wasn''t wrong, I just hadn''t taken a few things into account! It was all thanks to a tip I got. I hadn''t considered¡­ the state of the subjects before the experiments!


    Their state?


    Yes! Mentally, physically¡­ even though they were kept docile and placated, they were completely exhausted. Some of them, the sicker ones, fell dead before we could even use them. Their Spirits were weakened, almost snuffed out. That''s why they couldn''t survive the process!


    Hm. An understandable assumption. You expect this girl to perform differently, then, due of her strength of will?


    Not just that. I believe every aspect of the subject counts, and from what little I know of this¡­ brat, I can''t think of a better ex-citizen of Wysteria to test it on. She''s stubborn and determined like only pests can be; if anyone can survive the process, it''s her.


    ¡­So it seems, from what I''ve heard so far.


    [As his voice trails out, Tulip''s returns to focus.]


    "¡­was everywhere. The fire. I thought it was Narcie''s fault at first, thought it was because of our fight, but I hadn''t seen him home all day. And though mom screamed and screamed for him, he never came. I¡­ don''t think he was home anymore. Or maybe that''s what I like to think. If he''d been, then by that point his room would''ve been entirely engulfed by flames¡­"


    [Malva snickers arrogantly.]


    Just another hick sob story, like all the ones she''s documented so far. And this one doesn''t even have the decency of being interesting.


    Hm¡­


    [The man hums to himself, sounding interested.]


    I am starting to see the point of your experiment. If she can be fully absorbed and kept within the singularity¡­


    Precisely. There''s no reason you couldn''t do the same, to an even greater extent. Such is the strength and vastness of your Spirit.


    Hm. You should know that flattery doesn''t work on me.


    [Malva laughs amiably.]


    Of course, sir. My point still stands, though. If you don''t mind me asking¡­ just how many times have you exchanged vessels already?


    ¡­More than I could conceivably count. Especially while my memories are still finding their way through.


    And it even took you a few centuries to get started, hm?


    Yes. Were it not for that frightful fate befalling Nyss first, I would have lost myself long ago. It was hard-paid foresight. The human Spirit was not made to last for so long¡­ yet we are good at delaying the inevitable, if nothing else. I urged Nyss to follow the method I''d discovered, but she adamantly refused. As is her nature. It is just as well. Looking back on it, I am not convinced her attempt would have been successful.


    That is an interesting thought. So she couldn''t have done it because she was Azelf''s hero instead of Uxie''s?


    She was bonded with Uxie, but for only a short time. And even then, their compatibility was nothing like ours. She practically held it prisoner. I am uncertain if she could have passed herself on to another vessel with Azelf''s power as I have done with Uxie''s. Most likely, it would have ended in failure. Identity is the domain of Memory, not Will.


    Lucky you then. I admit, I''m still new to the concept, but it is simply so fascinating I can''t hold myself back from wanting to know more.


    [The man lets out a small sigh.]


    I have been a seeker of knowledge for centuries, which is why I can tell you are not. You seek for a way to achieve a similar state of immortality without relying on my powers, do you not?


    Perish the thought, sir. I assure you, my interest is entirely academic.


    ¡­Of course.


    [He doesn''t sound convinced in the slightest, but Malva doesn''t give him time to dwell on it.]


    Everything I do is through your will and mercy, and for your benefit. That''s the entire point of this experiment.


    I¡­ appreciate it. But I still fail to see what this singularity could offer me that you and the Fourth could not.


    It''s mostly a matter of time. I didn''t ask before because I thought it might be rude but¡­ I assume the process of switching to a new vessel takes longer each time?


    ¡­You heard from the Fourth.


    Oh, you know, just water cooler talk. I mean, it''s not something I would''ve noticed otherwise. My part of the process took no time at all, just a quick erasing of that vessel''s previous occupant, but I recall Riley being absent for quite some time. When I asked about it, he told me the truth. It took him almost an entire week to receive all of your memories. And even then, I heard he had to erase a few of his masks just to make space.


    [The man says nothing for a few moments. When he speaks, there''s an air of reluctance to what he says.]


    Yes, it is an expected though¡­ unfortunate side-effect of repeating the process so many times. Even finding a human suitable to be my vessel is... a lengthy endeavor.


    And even now, you''re not fully yourself yet. How long has it been, a month? Month and a half? Forgive my impudence, sir, but that hardly seems optimal.


    It is not optimal, no. But until now, I''ve thought it a reasonable price to pay in order to keep myself sane. I also hope that this will be the last time such cruelty is necessary. If the Seventh''s foresight is true, and if the First and the Fifth succeed in their mission¡­


    Trust me sir, I would love nothing more than to be the last Fourth Stigma, but we both know how dodgy Sanbica''s prophecies can be. It never hurts to have options.


    ¡­You have a point. This singularity might be a good alternative to your and the Fourth''s aid, should it come to it.


    Yes! I am very glad you understand, sir. Just look, look at how fast it is in comparison! Tulip has been almost completely absorbed.


    Hm¡­


    [Tulip''s voice sounds weaker now near the end, but it doesn''t break or stutter. She keeps recounting, without pause.]


    "¡­and I''ve been looking for information ever since. Any hint or clue I could find. The Wysteria Files were a¡­ desperate excuse to talk to those who were like me. Those who survived the¡­ incident. I wanted to know the truth. And I wanted them to¡­ be remembered. I didn''t want their pain or suffering to¡­ just be another mystery, another question that¡­ never gets answered¡­"


    WHO¡­ A¡­re you?


    "I¡­ I am¡­"


    [Tulip stops. It''s only for a moment, so short that Malva doesn''t pick up on it. But it''s the first time since the start that she''s been able to stop talking.


    The man hums deep in his throat, intrigued.]


    ¡­Tell me.


    Yes, sir?


    Who exactly was it¡­ that gave you that tip? About using someone like this girl?


    Oh? It was Sanbica.


    The Seventh¡­ did?


    I¡­ yes. Why? Is there something wrong with that?


    No, nothing. I just find it odd¡­ that she would bother. Very odd¡­


    Sir? What are you¡­?


    [For a few breaths neither of them say anything, and yet it takes them a few more seconds to realize.


    They are in complete silence. Tulip has stopped talking.]


    Wait¡­


    Who a¡­RE YO¡­u¡­?


    "¡­"


    [Tulip doesn''t answer, but not because she is unable to. Her breathing can be heard, firm, controlled. Her body shakes with effort, a pained grunt reverberating through her throat.]


    What''s happening? Why isn''t she answering?


    Hm¡­


    WHO A¡­re you?


    "¡­"


    Wh¡­WHO¡­Who a¡­re¡­?


    "¡­"


    [It is the singularity''s crackling mess of a voice that starts shaking. It sounds pained, distressed. Like it can''t understand why its questions are being ignored.


    Tulip breathes in deep. She sounds as though every muscle in her body is tightened, every ounce of willpower pumping like blood through her veins. When she speaks, her voice is weak, but firm like stone.]


    Who a¡­?


    "I''m Tulip Glasslip. I''m in charge of remembering those you''ve consumed and forgotten. Who¡­ are you?"


    W¡­W¡­WH¡­WHHH¡­


    "Who are you?"


    W-WHHHH¡­HHAAARRRHH¡­Y¡­?


    "Who are you!?"


    I-I-I¡­ I AM¡­ A-AM¡­


    [Malva takes a sudden step back, her voice coming out in shocked stutters. The man beside her doesn''t move an inch.]


    W-what the hell is this!? Walpurgis! Walpurgis, what is¡­?


    [There''s a sound of frail knees colliding with the ground. The Delphox lets out an echoing whine of pain, as sharp as nails on a chalkboard. Malva calls out to her, concern in her voice.]


    Walpurgis!?


    I see¡­ so I was right to doubt.


    Wh¡­!?


    [There''s a change in the air, in the pressure that can be picked up by the recording. The static in the background goes paler, quieter.


    When Tulip speaks, her voice echoes in the same way the singularity''s did before.]


    I AM¡­ I-I¡­ AM¡­


    "You are what''s left of them, and you are also me..."


    ¡­I A-AM¡­


    "¡­but I am not you."


    ¡­AM¡­ A-AM¡­


    "You¡­ are mine."


    ¡­.


    [The static disappears completely at those words, only to pulse back a moment later, this time outwards from Tulip instead. Another sound is also heard. A faint breeze, almost. Something being siphoned.


    Malva can barely react. When she stutters, she sounds completely beside herself.]


    W-what is this!? She''s¡­!


    Reversing the flow. A new Blossoming... how fascinating¡­


    N-no! She can''t¡­ Walpurgis, s¡­ shit!


    [Malva seems to realize her Pokemon is in no state to stop her. Whatever Tulip has done, it seems to have interfered with the Delphox'' psionics, leaving her weak and shaking on her knees, moaning in pain.


    Clicking her tongue, Malva raises a hand, and a sharp, cold crackle reverberates through the room a second later. Like cold flames made of liquid glass.]


    S-stay back, sir! I''ll erase¨C


    "Who are you?"


    GHA-GHK..!


    [The question is spoken softly, but its strength reverberates with such power that the walls shake. Malva chokes and splutters, falling to her knees. The man beside her wobbles a couple steps, grunting in pain.]


    N-no, this can''t..! How could t-this¡­ have..!?


    H¡­ha¡­ I see. So this is why she¡­ h-how fascinating¡­


    [The man sounds in pain, as though he can barely get the words out, and yet there is no concern in his voice. There''s also no confidence or arrogance. He genuinely sounds curious, interested in what''s happening.]


    Sir¡­ s-sir, we have to get out! P-please, teleport us¡­ if w-we stay here, the singularity will¡­!


    "Who are you?"


    GHLK!


    [Malva''s body can be heard shaking uncontrollably, growls of pain rising up her throat as she attempts to fight Tulip''s question, her command.


    The man, however, does not struggle. He answers.]


    I¡­ am¡­


    S-sir!?


    I am¡­ I''m... Alb¡­ Alberich! N-no¡­ no, I''m¡­


    "Who are you!?"


    I am¡­ I am¡­


    [It''s a sound like glass breaking. A sharp echo that reverberates through the room, coming from the spot where the man stood.


    Then, when he speaks again, it''s different. His voice is the same, but his tone and inflection make it sound as though it''s not. His calm, curious disposition is gone. His accent is more noticeable. He sounds confused, panicked.]


    I-I''m¡­ L¡­ Lynne. My name is Lynne¡­


    W-what!?


    I''m¡­ I''m Lynne! Lynne Randonneur! What¡­ what is this? Where am I!? W-what¡­ happened!?


    No! I erased you! I¡­ I made sure you were¡­ s-shit, how did she bring you back!?


    A-agh! Who are you!? W-where¡­ is this!?


    [Fueled by the kind of panic that can only come from fear of death, Malva struggles to push herself to her feet, gasping and panting with effort, nails dragging across the concrete floor. Her voice is on the verge of breaking.]


    I¡­ I have to e¡­erase you and her! I c-can''t¡­


    "Who¡­ are you?"


    A-AGH! SHIT!


    [Whatever little resolve was in Malva''s voice disappears as Tulip compels her again. She screams and falls to her knees again. Desperately, she drags herself across the floor, gasping as though she''s suffocating.]


    N-no¡­ fuck this! I''m¡­ I''m n-not dying here, I''m not letting you have me! W-Walpurgis! Walpurgis¡­!


    [Using what little strength she has, Malva crawls to where her Pokemon is, both of them on their knees, groaning in deep pain. She moves as quickly as she can, desperation clear in her jagged breathing.


    Tulip tries to compel her again, but by then it''s too late. Just as her voice starts resounding, there''s a small thump. Malva''s fingers, closing around her Delphox'' wrist.]


    "Who a¨C?"


    TELEPORT!


    [That psychic glimmer returns, followed by a sound like all the air around Malva being sucked in and compressed into a single point.


    Then, a sharp ringing, and they are both gone.


    Only the low static can be heard for a few seconds. All else is silence, until Lynne opens his mouth again.]


    H¡­hell just¡­ happened? Who¡­


    [He stumbles forward a couple steps, teeth chattering, sounding lost and terrified.]


    W¡­who are you?


    "I am¡­ Tulip. I''m¡­"


    [Tulip''s voice weakens throughout those four words alone, until it is barely a whisper. Suddenly she sounds so exhausted.]


    "I''m¡­ me."


    [And with that, all strength leaves her. There''s a shuffling sound as she slides down the side of the chair, followed by a deaf thump when she collapses to the ground.


    She stays there, unconscious, her breathing slow and steady.]


    I d-don''t¡­ bloody hell, what even is¡­ this? I''m¡­


    [Lynne can only mutter to himself. He sounds delirious, barely conscious of the world around him. Like someone waking up into a nightmare.]


    I¡­ I c-can''t¡­ I have to g-get out of here! Where is¡­ the exit¡­!


    [He stumbles toward the door in a panicked haze, tripping over his own feet. It takes him a few seconds for his hands to stop shaking so he can open the door, but when he does there''s no hesitation. His steps echo as he runs out of the room and up the stairs, the sound getting farther and farther away until it can''t be heard anymore.


    And Tulip remains there, face-down on the cold floor. Her breathing is peaceful, as though she''s only sleeping.]


    "¡­"


    [For almost two minutes, the room is in complete silence. Even when steps are heard again in the distance, they are light and slow, coming from someone who is clearly not in any hurry. They are familiar steps.


    The door opens, and a few more steps are heard. The person stops when reaching Tulip, kneeling down to press a hand against her forehead.]


    ¡­Huh. You actually pulled it off. Color me impressed.


    [The girl from the start of the recording snickers to herself, amused.]


    Alberich almost blew my cover there. Thanks for stopping him¡­ even if helping me was far from your mind at the time. I¡­ suppose I owe you a reward, for beating the odds. Hopefully bringing you back to your car on the outskirts of town will suffice¡­ it certainly wouldn''t do for you to still be here when Malva returns with reinforcements.


    But before that¡­


    [There''s a shuffling of fingers against cloth, and then the recorder shakes and creaks as the girl grabs it from within Tulip''s pocket. Her voice is much clearer as she raises it close to her chest.]


    You can have the recorder, but I''ll be keeping the tape for now. Consider it a form of¡­ interest.


    [She laughs to herself again. It is a strange, inhuman sound, right on the verge of uncanny.


    Her finger hovers one of the buttons, and her last words echo before the recording cuts off.]


    I don''t make a habit of betting on losers, Tulip. Make sure you don''t disappoint my expectations.

 Final Entry: Villosa

    The following is a transcription of the second half of the recording from Fragment #9, as well as the last found in Tulip''s recorder.


    Enjoy.


    <hr>


    [Transcription resumes after the moment in which Marie and Tulip finish listening to the tape from Fragment #10. There''s a clear clicking sound as one recording stops, and the other resumes.


    The low whirr of distant static echoes in the background, now emanating from Tulip herself. Neither of them say anything. Tulip''s breathing slowly escalates, getting harsher, more panicked, and it''s clear she opens her mouth even though no words come out, only a series of low, croaking sounds of utter shock and horror.


    Marie sighs, sounding unconcerned. After a moment, she places her hand on the table and rises to her feet, though she doesn''t walk away, simply stands there, letting out a long-held breath. Tulip''s surprise is not shared by her as she speaks.]


    ¡­Well. I''m glad we got through it before Malva came back. Seems like it''s taken effect already.


    "I¡­ I''m¡­"


    [Tulip does sound different, regardless of the thinness of her voice. There''s a certain weight, a presence that was not there before. She now sounds the same as she did shortly after absorbing the singularity.


    She leans back on her chair and lets out a sound almost like a laugh. The recorder shakes in her hands.]


    "Ha¡­ hahaha, then I''m th-I''m the one who¡­?"


    Don''t sound too surprised now. I need you at least somewhat sane to do what comes next.


    "¡­"


    Do you feel it now? That thing inside you.


    [Tulip doesn''t respond at first. It sounds like she looks down at herself, her breathing ceasing for a moment.]


    "It''s¡­ here, I feel it. It''s so¡­ empty. Like my soul is shivering, like it''s taking away all my warmth. It''s¡­"


    You kept it at bay for a lot longer than anyone else probably could have. If you hadn''t, I doubt I''d still be here as myself.


    "B-but why did¨C?"


    [There''s a sharp whistling sound and Tulip jumps back, yelping. Marie groans at her.]


    May I remind you of our agreement that I''d kill you if you were to ask questions? It was mostly a precaution a few minutes ago, when you were still unaware. Now that the singularity inside you is fully awake, I''ll have to insist even more harshly. Speak only in non-inquisitive terms, alright?


    "F-fuck you."


    That''s a good example, yes.


    "God you¡­ you sound so much like her. Like this is all fun to you. It makes me sick."


    Good for you, I suppose. I care not in the slightest how you feel about me. I''m more concerned about my own survival, you understand.


    [Tulip laughs again. It''s a hysterical sound, so thin and brittle it almost sounds like a sob. There''s a soft thump as she rests her elbows on the table and grips the sides of her head with her hands, pressing the recorder against it.]


    "¡­This can''t be happening."


    You might not remember it well, but you always told me this was the kind of end you expected for yourself. Why act surprised now?


    "I''d a-almost started to change my mind. When I read Podvig''s entry, what he said to me at the end¡­ and now that I remember it too¡­"


    It might''ve been better if he hadn''t given you false hope. I never once looked at you and imagined a future where you survived this fight of yours against the Institute.


    "¡­Kick me while I''m down why don''t you."


    Brutal honesty is something you should expect from me by now.


    "You really are just like her. A rotting, noxious pile of carrion in human form. Now I wonder how long it took me to figure that out the first time."


    Less than a week, if I remember correctly. But it''s not as though you had the luxury of being picky at the time. Nor now, for that matter.


    "Ha¡­ yeah, that fucking checks."


    [She hides her face in one of her hands and laughs again, her whole body shaking.]


    "¡­I never had any control. Everyone in my life''s a piece of shit and the only people who aren''t I brought ruin to by just being in the same room as them. I¡­ I finished the job Malva started. The few people that escaped Wysteria incident I fed to the singularity without even knowing."


    If it makes you feel any better, I doubt you took enough to kill them or permanently harm them. You probably just took what hurt them most. I''d see it as a blessing.


    "That''s¡­ just what they fucking wanted too. For everyone to forget, for it to be swept under the rug¡­ it''s the opposite of what I wanted."


    You wanted them to remember the worst moments of their life? Ha. And you call me cruel.


    "I didn''t want them to be forgotten. People died and people suffered and it wasn''t their fucking fault, none of it was their fault! It was just bad luck and no one remembers, no one knows what really happened!"


    You''re rambling like a child. I still see no reason to shine light on the darkest memories of another just for a fanciful stor¨C


    "SHUT UP!"


    [Tulip''s scream peaks the audio, making it explode with a burst of static that renders the recording unhearable for a few moments. When it vanishes, there''s silence. Only Tulip''s harsh, angry breathing can be heard.]


    "They¡­ people deserve to be heard when they''re hurt without rhyme or reason. When something bad happens and¡­ you didn''t do anything wrong, and you weren''t even targeted personally, it was just a roll of the dice¡­ there''s no worse feeling. It''s suffering without a point, completely dispassionate. It makes you feel like you''re¡­ not even human. Like you''re just a piece on a sick game that has no meaning to the people using you.


    "When that happens, you¡­ you want to be heard. You need to get it out of your chest and lament what happened, to have at least one other person say it. That it''s wrong, that it''s not how the world should work. If people hurt each other it should be for a reason, they should at least see each other as human beings. If you hurt someone from far away, without even knowing them, it''s¡­"


    It''s how the world works. And no amount of placebo words or sympathy will change it.


    [Tulip makes a groaning sound, almost like a whine.]


    "I¡­ met them, I heard them out, and now a part of them is inside me. But I can''t get people to see it. I can''t have everyone know who these people were, how unfair it all was."


    [Marie holds her tongue for once and doesn''t respond, but judging by Tulip''s tone, she probably knows the answer either way.]


    "¡­No one fucking cares. If there''d been just one, if only one more person cared, then I¡­"


    [She stops talking suddenly. Another sob-like groan leaves her lips and she slides forward on her chair, sighing.]


    "No¡­ Lynne was there. Even if just for a short time¡­"


    ''Lynne'' was the reason this all happened in the first place. You took a piece of him and brought it with you. Then you infected me with it, made me believe he''d always been there in my memories. I''m glad you developed a good relationship with him in the past few weeks, but in my mind he''s nothing but a parasite. Any sympathy for him would be a waste of time.


    "Shut up. I''m sure the Lynne I met¡­ the one I''ve spent the past few weeks with, he¡­ he was real. He was the real Lynne. He didn''t ask for any of this to happen."


    Is that why you sympathize with him so much? Just two peas in a Lotad? And here I''d gathered that you hated him, judging by your previous fragments.


    "Fuck you. Seriously, just¡­ go fuck yourself."


    [Marie sighs in annoyance.]


    ¡­Tell me. Are you familiar with the concept of Dunbar''s number?


    "A¡­re you ser¡­? If the last thing I hear from you is a philosophy lesson I''m killing myself here on the spot, I''m not waiting for Malva."


    The concept applies not only to people, you see. It is, admittedly, a much less exact sociological tool when applied this way, but it can also be used to gauge the general empathy threshold of a certain population. It will obviously vary wildly from person to person, but everyone has a limit as to how much empathy they can invest at a time. What might be a life-changing tragedy, a call to action to one person, will just be Monday''s news to another.


    "¡­You''re saying that''s the case with Wysteria."


    It''s an unfortunate truth, something I''ve seen countless times as a journalist. The technological revolution of the turn of the century, the invention of the radio and the telephone, soon followed by the television and the worldwide net, have all contributed to the erosion of human empathy. In a way, they are essential tools. It allows all cries for help to be heard, makes it harder for tragedies to be swept under the rug. If a thousand people die in one corner of the world, everyone in the opposite corner will know of it almost instantly thanks to the ease with which information spreads. It is, unquestionably, a good thing. Yet it carries with it a terrible side-effect.


    Surely you''ve seen it, experienced it. All of us have. It''s almost impossible to look at a screen or at a newspaper page without learning of some new tragedy. The worldwide stream of information is flooded with death and misery from all across the world, making it so much easier for the general population to be eventually desensitized to it. There is only so much any given person can care about, after all. Life, work, family, friends, romantic pursuits¡­ if there is any space left between them, we will use it for a cause or societal trouble that affect us personally, that we have no choice but to care about deeply.


    And everything else? It''s sad, yes. Sometimes even tragic enough to induce tears, but that''s as far as it will go. I knew this well before embarking on this search for Wysteria''s truth. As incredible as my paper on the subject will be, I''m not expecting anyone to care for the lives that were lost. If anyone takes an interest in the subject, it will surely be due to the Institute''s influence. Skeptics and conspiracy theorists will make the subject their playground for some time, I''m sure. The same people who read your entries, Tulip, not because they care for the people you interview but because they want to find the truth, no matter how many must suffer as a result. To solve the ''mystery'', as it were.


    You lament that no one cares, but can you blame them? There was no political or ideological motive behind the slaughter of Wysteria''s people, so there''s little reason for the average person to care. Like I said, empathy is a precious resource, and a meaningless tragedy like that, almost comparable to a natural disaster, will get nary a sad frown and a quick prayer from most. You might hate them for it. I won''t blame you. You knew these people, after all, and as such have a reason to care, to fight to the death just so you can honor their memory. It''s admirable, and not something just anyone could do.


    But don''t go around forcing that pointless romance on others. It''s selfish. We all have people only we care about, and we all must shoulder the weight of that burden, alone. People die, tragedies happen, and I ensure that the truth is out there for all to see. But I won''t force them to care, unlike you. Because I know how heavy the burden we all carry is.


    [There is silence, for a while. Tulip takes her time to respond, the recorder creaking under the strength of her grip. When she finally speaks, disgust drips from her voice like poison.]


    "People like you are lesser than carrion. I''m sure if you''d been alive two hundred years ago you would''ve used that same fucking argument to defend the atrocities committed by the monarchy."


    [Marie chuckles to herself.]


    Change is good, of course, but it is always brought about by hypocrites like you, forcing their burdens and suffering on others. Not that a hypocrite is such a bad thing to be, mind you. But I assure you, I won''t die as one. I won''t go into that cold night full of anger and regret, like your kind. If I am to be put to death for my ideals, then contentment shall be my last meal.


    "I assure you it''ll be your own rotten blood."


    Time will prove one of us right, although I doubt you''ll live for long enough to see it. In any case, I think that''s enough arguing for now. Surely you don''t hate me as much as the Institute just because of what I said, enough to not want to get on with our plan, do you? If so, I doubt you would''ve survived much in today''s society anyway.


    "Fuck off and die."


    Later. For now, I think we should discuss preparations before Malva arrives, yes?


    [Tulip doesn''t respond. She takes a deep, shaking breath then lets it go, as though trying to contain herself. She lifts her elbows and lets the hand holding the recorder fall to her side, using the other to tap against the table.]


    "There''s not much to do other than punch Malva in the face when she comes back."


    I''d advise against it. The element of surprise is your best weapon right now; when Malva comes, she''ll expect you to be bound and contained. She doesn''t know I''ve saved you, nor that you''ve remembered everything. You should be able to catch her unaware.


    "¡­And ask her a question. But even then, she can just teleport out like last time. All it''d do is buy time."


    That''s why you''ll wait. Wait until you''re taken to the Institute.


    [Tulip''s tapping against the table stops. She sits there in silence, considering.]


    "So if she tries to leave, that''ll at least give me time to run around the place. See how much damage I can cause before I''m captured."


    Considering your state and lack of Pokemon, that wouldn''t be much. But we also have this.


    [Marie must take out the Griseous Orb because suddenly there''s another heartbeat of static coming from where she''s standing.]


    You said in your note that you knew how to use this, that it would be more effective if taken to the very heart of the Institute. Do you remember?


    "I¡­"


    [A low hum reverberates through her throat as she closes her lips. It''s a pensive sound.]


    "It feels¡­ familiar. I don''t remember but¡­ I feel like I could figure it out if it came to it."


    Perfect. Catch, then.


    "Ghah!"


    [Marie tosses the orb, and in her panicked hurry to catch it Tulip shoots up to her feet, which immediately follows a shriek of pain as she unconsciously steps on the foot of her broken leg.]


    "Fff-Agh! Fucking warn me next time!"


    Now we only need to make it so Malva believes nothing is amiss when she arrives.


    "A¡­agh¡­ god, give me a second, I¨C"


    Unfortunately I don''t carry any rope with me, not that it would be a good idea to begin with, as you need to be unbound to use the orb, I imagine. We don''t have time, anyway. A more drastic measure will be needed.


    "I-I said wait a second, I''m¨C"


    No.


    [Marie''s refusal is swift. Tulip actually freezes at her cold tone. Steps are heard as she approaches.]


    Malva will be here very shortly. By then I will be gone, and you need to appear weakened and helpless so she doesn''t suspect anything. Then, you will be taken to the Institute. And with some luck, you''ll find an opening to use the Griseous Orb and wipe her and as much of the Abyssal Ruins as you can from the world.


    [Tulip stutters for a moment. Despite having agreed to it before, she is probably surprised to have the entire plan presented to her like that, because at no point does Marie imply her survival.


    She''s probably guessed her fate, but still.]


    "¡­I could tell you I want to leave. Spend what little is left of my life by myself."


    You won''t. A chance to get rid of Malva will never come again. And of course, Lynne will probably be there in the Abyssal Ruins. You want to see him, don''t you? It''s all over your face.


    "I¡­"


    This isn''t me asking you, by the way. I''m simply stating what will happen. You have no choice in the matter.


    [There''s a moment of silence. Tulip''s voice grows cold and furious as she speaks.]


    "You know, now I''m actually considering refusing out of spite."


    Oh, you can''t. I already even figured out a way to make you appear as Malva expects for when she arrives. Why do you think I tossed you the orb like that? Now both of your hands are occupied.


    "I don''t¨C"


    [Another step resounds, harsher, heavier. A thin metallic sound whistles through the air as Marie raises the long, thin pipe.


    Tulip doesn''t gasp or jump away. She just breathes out in confusion, her voice coming out thin and fearful.]


    "W-what are y¨CGHRLK!"


    [It''s a sound like that of a fork stabbing into a particularly juicy piece of meat, a fast and wet   schlick   that''s shortly drowned by the sudden gasp being pulled from Tulip''s throat, air leaving her lungs in a single violent exhalation.


    She tries to scream, but without air it''s only a long whine. A panicked step back is heard. Tulip tries to move away, and Marie obliges by dislodging the pipe from her body, pulling it out in one quick motion.


    The sound is meaty and disgusting. Like wet leather being ripped apart. Marie lowers the bloody pipe until it drags across the concrete floor, and Tulip is heard stumbling back, step by uneven step, unable to even breathe for a few moments.]


    "Hh¡­wh¡­aah¡­"


    [Either due to pain or shock, her legs finally run out of strength and she falls to her knees, remaining there for only a second before collapsing to her side with a deaf thump.


    It sounds as though she tries to speak, but all that comes out is a series of choking gasps like a Magikarp being pulled out of water.]


    Don''t worry. I stabbed you in the stomach, but didn''t pierce any vital artery or organ other than your intestines. It''s still a fatal wound without immediate medical care, of course. But it will take almost an entire day. You''ll most likely be absorbed by the singularity before then. Or you''ll die by your own hand, or Malva''s. Point is, you won''t suffer for long.


    "Ghh¡­ M-Mar¡­ie¡­!"


    You understand why this is necessary, yes? It''s not just for convenience. You''re one of them now, as those marks upon your palms demonstrate. In my eyes, you''re no different than Malva or Alberich. You''re dangerous. And now, with some luck, you''ll die alongside them and rid the world of yet another of its unknowing eldritch horrors lurking deep beneath the earth.


    Rest assured. Your death will not be in vain, even if most of your life has been.


    [With a long, agonizing groan, Tulip rolls onto her stomach and digs the sharp of her elbows onto the cold concrete, uselessly trying to drag herself forward. The recorder creaks in her hand. She hasn''t let go of it.


    Using what little strength she can muster, she forces herself to speak. Her voice drops significantly. Static bursts as the singularity speaks through her mouth.]


    "W¡­wh-who are y¨C?"


    [Marie is swift to interrupt her. She takes a relaxed step forward, and then a strong impact reverberates, followed by Tulip''s scream. Marie''s kick seems to hit her in the side of her face, throwing her to the side once more and interrupting her question.]


    Now, none of that.


    "Gh¡­gfffhah¡­"


    Try not to turn over too much, or else an infection may kill you faster than the wound could. In any case, I really should get going. Malva is surely on her way.


    "W-wh¡­w-wai¡­!"


    It was¡­ interesting knowing you, Tulip. And while you mostly brought nothing but misfortune to everyone around you thanks to your hypocritical ideals, at least you led me to the truth I''d been hunting for so long. Thanks to you, I finally unveiled the events behind Wysteria''s tragedy. Now I only need to write it down and publish it. I''m sure it will make for a spectacular series of books and articles, a shining herald to my return to polite society.


    And of course, I won''t be as cruel as to betray your memory. Everyone will know of your heroism, of your boundless determination to find the truth. And, just like you wanted, they''ll know about the stories of those ex-Wysteria citizens as well. It''s the last I can do for you, considering¡­


    "Ff¡­fuck y-y¡­you¡­"


    [Marie chuckles lightly to herself.]


    Goodbye, Tulip. Make sure not to betray my expectations.


    "I w¡­g-ghah! W-won''t¡­ do what y-you¡­"


    Of course you will. Because no matter what I do, you will never hate me more than you hate them.


    [And with those words, Marie turns on her heel and starts walking away, calmly. Tulip struggles to drag herself forward, to move, to try and stop her, but she can barely drag herself a few inches before shrinking into herself again, shaking and groaning with pain.


    The door creaks as it''s opened.]


    "W-wait! Please I d¡­ I d-don''t want to d¡­!"


    [It slams shut with a ruthless sound, peaking the audio, and leaving only cold silence after.


    Tulip says nothing. She lays there, barely breathing, croaking like sounds of pain and horror leaving her lips.]


    "G¡­ ghh¡­ f-fuck¡­"


    [She clamps down hard, her whole body shaking and tensing up with what could either be fury or misery. Sob-like sounds echo in her throat. She tries not to let them out, but can only do so for so long.]


    "FUCK!"


    [Anger rushes out in violent screams and curses and sobbing for the next few minutes, uninterrupted.]


    <hr>


    An aside.


    Marie Levy Corenthal never returned to society, and her body was never found, although that is mostly due to the fact the authorities had stopped looking for her long ago, believing her to be dead.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    In truth, her remains now lay within the tunnels underneath Wysteria, near to the exit found in the basement of the Millers'' house. It seems she was attacked while trying to escape. The ghastly claw-like wounds on her chest and throat are tinted a deep purple, which would lead anyone to believe she was attacked by a vicious ghost-type Pokemon.


    Or something of the sort.


    I will not say her death was a philanthropic one. It certainly was to our benefit that she never leave those tunnels alive, but that concern was not in my mind when I found her.


    She simply struck me as unpleasant, almost as much as Malva.


    Rest in peace, Marie. May the truth you sought have served as an appropriate final meal.


    <hr>


    [Tulip is still cursing and shaking uncontrollably when the familiar sound of teleportation is heard behind her, a burst of silence like the air being vacuumed into a single spot, followed by a crackling shimmer.


    A step echoes through the room. Malva makes a slightly surprised sound, and the Pokemon beside her imitates her with a hum of its own. Tulip freezes instantly with a sharp inhale.]


    ¡­Huh. Are you still alive, Tulip?


    [She doesn''t reply, but there is a quick shake, a shuffle of movement as Tulip hides the Griseous Orb within the inside pocket of her coat, huffing at the pain. She must be collapsed with her back to Malva, because she doesn''t notice.]


    Ah, there we go. Let''s see here¡­ I thought I''d told that Gardevoir to bind you after capturing you, but¡­


    [Malva walks around the room until she can see Tulip, and a slight breath of surprise leaves her lips.]


    That''s a nasty wound you got there. Did Gardevoir do that?


    [She doesn''t sound concerned in the slightest, and Tulip doesn''t give her an answer. She lays perfectly still, breathing in and out, harshly.]


    ¡­Walpurgis, call for Gardevoir, would you?


    [The Delphox hums in affirmation and a moment after the air vibrates with a shimmer, like a soundless siren booming through the air. This continues for a few seconds, but no similar sound comes from the other side. Walpurgis stops, and hums to Malva a sad sound.]


    Hm. You actually fought back against it, didn''t you? Even with a broken leg¡­ no, maybe because of it¡­ yes. A wounded, cornered Pokemon is the most terrifying of them all. You must''ve somehow gotten close enough to use force.. and then killed it. But you didn''t escape unscathed. Ha¡­ in the end, you needn''t have bothered. You couldn''t have escaped either way. But I guess pointless resistance is in your blood.


    "H¡­ ha¡­ Ghk¡­"


    Yes? Is there something you''d like to say to that, Tulip? I''m familiar with all kinds of wounds, and I know the one in your stomach won''t kill you just yet. We can chat here for a while longer, so feel free to speak.


    [Tulip inhales deeply. Then, she chuckles weakly and replies.]


    "I w-was wondering, but it is true. Y-you really are the kind of stupid bitch who w¡­ wears sunglasses underground."


    [Malva makes an unpleasant noise.]


    Well¨C


    "I wonder if you g-got those pants custom-made, too. I''d¡­ ha, would have loved to be there when you told them y¡­ you wanted a bunch of rhombuses cut into them. Makes you l-look like a slutty clown costume gone wrong. Though I guess t-that''s about right for you, huh."


    [Tulip''s laugh slowly turns into a violent fit of painful coughing, and Malva says nothing throughout, completely silent.


    After a few seconds, she clicks her tongue and noticeably hits her heels on the floor, turning away. Whether Tulip''s insults were a ploy to hurry things along or not, they seem to have hit home nonetheless. The Fourth is a very vain person.]


    ¡­I guess you''re really eager to die. I can''t blame you, being who you are.


    [It''s a weak retort, earning another scornful chuckle from Tulip in between her coughs. Malva makes a frustrated sound and addresses her Delphox.]


    Get us out of here. Back to the Institute¡­ let''s get this done with.


    "H-haaha¡­ thought y-you''d said we had all the time in the world. I c-can keep going for as long as you w¨C"


    Now, Walpurgis.


    [That shimmer-like sound comes suddenly, swallowing the entire room and humming much more strongly than before, because this time it envelops Tulip as well. It gets louder for just a moment, then goes quiet entirely.


    Then, a vacuum of sound, and a deep silence that lasts for only a moment.


    When sound returns, it''s with a burst of static that peaks, then lowers until it can barely be heard in the background. Tulip collapses again, and Malva''s heels click against the stone of the floor. It echoes in a strange way, much farther and deeper than before. It''s an undulating kind of echo, like shifts of current deep in the sea, like the breathing of a vast, unknowable creature of obsidian and chargestone.


    I do not need to hear it in the recording to know exactly how to describe it. I''ve been there plenty of times myself. It is an unforgettable sound.]


    "Wh¡­ what the hell¡­"


    Hm. Surprised? I had the same reaction when I first saw this place. And it is only the foyer. If you could see the true guts of the ruins, I''m sure your head would spin. It''s too bad¡­


    [She takes a step closer to the collapsed Tulip.]


    I''m not here to give you a tour. It''s time you give back what you stole.


    [Tulip''s harsh breathing ceases for a moment. She tenses up her body, stopping it from shaking. As though she''s trying to listen for something.


    Malva is not patient.]


    No final words? Alright, then. Walpurgis, lift her up, we''ll be taking her to Alber¨C


    "Where is he?"


    Hm?


    [Malva doesn''t notice at first, probably due to the suddenness of the question, but Tulip''s voice echoes.


    Tulip asks the question again, and Malva responds before she realizes what is happening.]


    "Where is Lynne?"


    He''s at the center of the ruins, going straight north from here, then east, then north again¡­ huh? W-wait¡­!


    [Her forced, monotone voice returns to normal, growing panicked and anxious at the fact she''s been forced to speak against her will. Yet even then, it takes her a second too long to put the pieces together.


    Tulip moves as fast as her wounded body allows, dragging herself a couple feet forward, then grabbing at the nearest wall desperately with her free hand, nails digging into the dusty stone. She hurries to pull herself to her feet in the few moments of confusion where Malva stands there, frozen.]


    W-wait, no! You can''t¡­ did you¡­!?


    "Who¡­ are y¨C?"


    SHIT! Walpurgis, stop her!


    "¨Cou?"


    [Walpurgis hums a deep groan and falls, knees hitting the ground, the air shaking with that painful cry. Malva soon follows, although she manages to stay on her feet.]


    W-what''s going on!? You shouldn''t be able to use the singularity''s power unless you''ve rememb¡­ered¡­


    [There''s a single-second pause, filled with realization.


    Tulip finally pushes herself to her feet, wobbling in place, her breathing heavy with pain. Even so, she chuckles.]


    S-SHIT!


    "Who are y¨C?"


    Walpurgis, Teleport!


    [That light shimmer resounds once more, and soon both Malva and her Pokemon are gone, vanished in an instant.


    Tulip wastes no time. With only an instant to gather breath, she throws herself forward alongside the rocky wall, jumping and crawling and advancing as fast as her dying body allows her, and even beyond that.


    Her jumps echo deep throughout the ruins, almost completely drowned out by groans and bellows every time she accidentally steps on the wrong foot or pulls to hard at the pierced muscles in her stomach. Tulip sounds as though she is in unimaginable pain. Yet she trudges on, probably knowing that Malva will not take long to return and start hunting for her.]


    "Hg-haah¨Cf-fuck! Gh¡­ c-come on, come on!"


    [Slightly less than a minute passes until Tulip''s worst fears are confirmed, and a shimmering crackle of flames is heard in the distance. Steps echo. Tulip has cleared quite a distance, having already turned at the first long corridor, traversing it almost halfway to the second turn.


    As such, Malva''s voice sounds distant as she screams.]


    Shit! Walpurgis, keep tracking her, I''m right behind you! Blast her to ashes the moment you see her, don''t even give her a moment to speak!


    [The Pokemon''s hum reverberates through the air, followed by Malva''s steps. They can be heard approaching quickly, much faster than Tulip''s panicked crawling across the walls.


    Tulip curses under her breath and speeds up, jumping forward and even running on her broken leg for a few seconds at a time, probably knowing it''s that or death. Every step, every movement and sound leaving her lips is full of hot, desperate agony. She can no longer speak or curse, only groan and shake in pain as she attempts to flee.


    The steps and the humming get closer. Tulip turns on the next corner and advances as fast as possible, but Malva and Walpurgis are not far behind her. Tulip cries out in pain and frustration, and the furious humming answers, drawing ever closer.


    Finally, it seems Tulip sees the end, as a gasp of hope and surprise leaves in between two pained exhalations. She is not far from the door separating the center of the ruins from every other path.


    She strides forward, and just then her pursuers turn around the corner behind her, and see her.]


    There!


    "G-ghah! F-fuck, n-nono come onnnn!"


    Kill her, kill her! Mystical Fire!


    "GHAAAAAAAH!"


    [A lot of things happen at once. With that familiar shimmer, Delphox appears above the middle of the corridor and her stick-like wand is heard cutting through the air, drawing a quick circle from which a pillar of crackling flames soon sprouts out like a flood.


    Tulip throws herself forward in desperation. Judging from my own knowledge of the length of the corridor, it doesn''t seem as though she''s close enough to reach the door.


    Yet there is another sound just then. Deeper, subtler. The hum of the ruins themselves echoes slightly louder for just a moment, and Tulip unexpectedly slams against the stone door, which she clearly doesn''t expect.]


    "Ff-fhaah!"


    W-WHAT!?


    [Crackling. Stone grinding against stone, the roar of flames approaching from behind.


    And then, Tulip falls onto a room that is not the same she was in before. There''s a snap. A collision of stone against stone, and silence, if only for an instant. Then the sizzling of flames is heard on the other side, a hiss loud enough to almost drown out Malva''s cursing.


    Tulip lays on the floor, shaking, breathing so hard yet sounding practically out of breath.]


    "W-wh¡­ what ha-happened¡­? I was¡­"


    [She doesn''t say more, whether because she has no answer or because she hears the steps coming from in front of her. With a gasp, she looks upward just as a familiar voice speaks.]


    "You made it¡­ finally."


    "L¡­ Lynne?"


    [The shock of the situation seems to distract her from her pain for a few seconds, or perhaps it is so powerful and blinding it''s gone back around to feeling numb.


    The man doesn''t answer at first. He walks toward Tulip, his steps echoing less deeper, hinting at the chamber''s smaller size.]


    "You''re¡­ are you Lynne?"


    "I am¡­ not sure."


    "H-huh? What do you mean you''re not sure!?"


    "I feel¡­ segmented. I started remembering, memories are¡­ coming back to me, now that you''re close. But I do not know if I''m¡­ no, I don''t know if I''m¡­ me."


    [It is the same voice, but the sheer difference in tone and inflection makes him sound like two different people struggling for control of it. No, it''s not quite a struggle. More like the sun falling down the horizon in order to make way for the moon, and vice versa. There are short moments in which both speak as one.


    Behind them, the hiss of several flame pillars slamming against the door is heard. Malva keeps screaming, but it''s hard to make out what she''s saying.]


    "The door will hold for a short time. Probably not enough to escape, though. Not that escape is possible regardless, in your current state. Still¡­ I''m happy to see you one more time, Tulip."


    "I¡­ Lynne, is the same thing that''s happening to me, happening to you? Are you going to be¡­?"


    "I''m¡­ I am not¡­ sure. No Spirit from any of my previous vessels have managed to last this long. I only came back from nothingness thanks to you, Tulip. Even as my memories keep returning¡­ even though I feel Alberich coming back¡­ It doesn''t feel as though I''m overtaking him. He''s¡­ so vast, and I''m just a thrown stone falling down the ocean''s depth. Even so¡­ the ripple against its surface keeps growing and growing."


    "T-then¡­"


    "¡­Here, let me help you up. It''s unsightly to talk to you like this."


    [Both of them seem in agreement at that, at least. He kneels in front of Tulip and, swiftly yet gently, puts her arm around his shoulder and lifts her up to her feet. It sounds agonizingly painful, but probably not as much as if anyone else had done it.


    They walk a few steps away from the door, away from the hiss of flames and Malva''s loud screams.]


    "A-agh! S-shit!"


    "Oi'', careful there. Further pain is unnecessary, even while so close to the end."


    "I-I don''t¡­ get it. If he''s, I mean if Alberich''s¡­ shouldn''t he be fighting against you? To stop me or¡­ kill me faster?"


    "Hmm¡­Hmm."


    [Both of them hum in the same confused way, the one verbal tic they seem to share.]


    "Yeah, I though the same thing. I am a monster as you suspect, Tulip, but not the kind you believe me to be. He doesn''t, I mean I¡­ don''t feel very concerned? I am aware of the Seventh''s influence on these events. If she deems this odd merging to be necessary, then I will trust her judgment. It also feels like he''s¡­ kind of eager? It''s really odd. I am a seeker of knowledge by nature. Despite the possible dangers, I am curious about what will happ¨C"


    [A loud impact reverberates through the room like someone hitting a gigantic bell, cutting him off and catching their attention. The sizzle of flames can no longer be heard. They''ve been replaced with blasts of psychic force, slamming against the closed door, budging it open ever slightly with each one.]


    "Shit. Maybe we have less time than we thought."


    [Tulip tries to say something, but she ends up coughing, out of breath. It takes her a second to get the words out. She sounds halfway between furious and exhausted.]


    "I¡­ H-how am I supposed to feel about¡­ this? You''re Lynne but you''re also¡­"


    "Wh-do you really think we have time for this!? The stone that makes up these ruins is sturdy, but Malva will get through eventually. And I''m sure she thinks I''m already Alberich by this point. She doesn''t know¡­ She believes I''m on her side."


    "A-aren''t you!?"


    "It''s¡­ complicated. My Stigma are not as united as you may think. I mean, they''re like coworkers of a sort, aren''t they? They''re bound to have some disagreements. And when two of their children start fighting, is it not a parent''s responsibility to take the side of the victim? It would be unfair otherwise. And it''s pretty clear you''re the underdog in this situation, Tulip."


    "Y-you just meant the Stigma, why are you including m¡­"


    [She stops talking, realization dawning on her as to what Alberich means.]


    "Go to hell! I am not your fucking¨C"


    "The marks rest upon your palms, do they not? The truth''s the truth, whether you like it or not."


    "I-I¡­ Still, this is¡­!"


    "I understand your revulsion. Not like anyone can blame you after how much these bellends ruined our lives. But regardless, you are my Ninth Stigma. The one I never intended to be created, yet one whose willpower bent reality to make it so. It is curious. They say that, in their hubris, tyrants often bring about their own downfall, molding it like clay in their image. To think a ninth shadow would appear where previously only eight stood, protecting my back¡­ and that it would be one so determined to oppose me."


    "Gh¡­ the way you talk is just like all the other Stigma. You all think this is some kinda fucking game, that we''re just pieces for you to play with¡­"


    "If that is so, then consider yourself a white pawn taken by the enemy and thrown into the dark sea of nothingness¡­ only to somehow return to the board, painted a dull grey. You are allowed to remain only because of your unique circumstances. Were you to deny your nature and claim to be a white pawn once more¡­ then your fate would have already been sealed, hm?"


    "W-what the hell¡­?"


    "That was a smarmy and condescending way to say you don''t have much of a choice. Same for me, yet here I am..."


    "T-that isn''t¡­ it''s not the same, you''re¡­ both of you¡­ agh!"


    [Tulip lets out a quick groan, and is met with a breath of irritated laughter, coming clearly from Lynne.]


    "Hell. And to think I used to be the one panicking and complaining all the time instead of trying to do something productive. Look at yourself now, Tulip."


    "Don''t speak like that, it''s been less than a fucking day."


    "I know. Longest Friday of my goddamned life."


    "¡­ And the last, in my case."


    [There''s a short moment of silence between them. I am not sure, but I''d be confident in thinking Alberich does not take control, and instead lets them have that moment.


    Until another blast is heard, and the whole room shakes again. The rock begins to crack.]


    "You''re lucky, you know. To be able to talk to us separately like this. I don''t think that''ll last for long. Once¡­ all of me returns, we will most likely merge. At first I thought he would be swallowed up by my Spirit, but now¡­ I have no intention of being kicked out of my own body again. And what a regrettable fate it has suffered. But I admit it will be interesting to be slightly more than just myself for once. It should prove a good way to avoid boredom."


    "Am I supposed to¡­ agh, feel grateful? None of this should''ve happened. I''m about to die, and you''ll just be a tiny part of this piece of shit''s soul. In the end, none of it mattered."


    "Are you sure about that?"


    "What other conclusion is there? Things would''ve been better if I''d never interfered at all."


    "If that''s so, why do I hear the other souls inside of you thanking you so sincerely?"


    "W¡­ what?"


    [Tulip clearly did not expect to hear that. For a moment, she doesn''t sound in pain anymore, just utterly shocked.]


    "Did you forget what you learned? I admit it''s been a while since I checked, but I was once renowned as the greatest hero that ever bonded Uxie. Even in its absence, my powers have not waned. It''s¡­ mental. Like a storm crackling inside and all around me. I can see and hear human Spirits as easily as you hear the chirps of the Pidgey outside."


    "Wh-then¡­ you can hear them? Everyone else¡­"


    "Of course. The ones you interviewed, the ones you helped, the ones you opposed. They all sound happy. As expected. You gave them the chance to be heard, after all. You made sure they were remembered."


    [Tulip gasps, and there''s a sound as though she presses her hand against her chest, cloth shuffling against skin.]


    "I¡­ that can''t be right. I only made things worse. I fed them to the same meat grinder Malva did, all while thinking I was helping them¡­"


    "Always so fucking glum, Tulip. You have not hurt them in the way you believe you have. Even without a singularity to aid them, humans exchange pieces of their soul every time they interact, in smaller or bigger quantities depending on how much they trust each other. In your case it''s just a smidge more literal, I''m guessing. The difference between you and Malva is stark. She invaded their souls and took from them against their will, defiling them. You offered them a chance to shed the pain they''d been carrying for so long. You lent them an ear, a shoulder to cry on. I assure you, they all thank you from the bottom of their hearts. Even I can hear it so clearly. And more so¡­ They are just as eager to see Malva get her comeuppance."


    [For the second time, their voices echo together as one, leaving Tulip without voice, wordless.


    After a second, a strange noise leaves her throat. One may think it a small sob of pain, but there''s a clear softness to it.]


    "Do they¡­ really not hate me? R-really?"


    "It''s true. Even if you can''t believe Alberich, believe me. If that was the last regret keeping your Spirit chained, let it be no more. I refuse to think all of our suffering was in vain. You''re not gonna give up right at the end, after fighting so hard, are you?"


    "I¡­ I don''t need you to tell me that. I always intended to go down swinging, no matter what. But¡­"


    [Tulip scoffs weakly and pushes the man away, wobbling unsteadily on her feet now that she stands on her own.]


    "If it''s true, then¡­ it''s good to know."


    [Relief is palpable in her voice, her attempts to hide it weak amidst the immense pain she must be in. Lynne sighs amusedly.


    Behind them, an impact greater than any before reverberates throughout the whole room. The sound of cracking soon gives to an even more concerning one. That of tiny stone fragments falling to the ground.]


    "The door won''t hold for much longer. Are you ready, Tulip?"


    "Yes, I have the¡­ I have the Griseous Orb right here. But I don''t know anything about it, I don''t even know how to use it."


    [She stutters as she takes the object from her pocket, its hiss of static joining Tulip''s in the background of the recording.


    Alberich puts her doubts to rest as he speaks.]


    "The Griseous Orb is another singularity, much like the one resting inside you. Under normal circumstances, only an Eight Stigma should be able to access its power. But being its kin, you are an exception."


    "That still doesn''t tell me how to use it. Do I just¡­ point it at someone and¡­ I don''t know¡­"


    "Come on, Tulip. Did you really forget? Even I remembered this one; it was the weirdest out of all your entries, after all. You might not know how to use it, but there is someone inside you who does."


    [Tulip sounds like she''s about to protest, but then she lets out a little gasp, filled with realization.]


    "¡­Oh. You have to be kidding me."


    "Heh, I''m sure that lass wouldn''t have agreed to that interview if she''d known what you really were. I''m confident Shadi thought you were only another Wysterian victim, and misjudged the danger of meeting with you. That''s likely why you suddenly remembered what it was and how to use it, that first time back at the Millers'' house."


    "Then part of her is¡­ inside me? Mew, that''s¡­ eugh. I''m really not okay with that."


    "She was kind of a cunt, wasn''t she?"


    "Ugh¡­"


    "Regardless, if will prove useful in this case. Didn''t Shadi hold on to that thing for a long time until now? I''m sure she knew how to use it. Despite only partially being an Eight Stigma, she was quite talented and knowledgeable about her abilities. Additionally, you shouldn''t worry about her cooperation. Malva was not liked, even by the most benevolent of Stigmas. And from what we gathered, Shadi was far from that."


    "I¡­ guess I have no choice. Then I just have to¡­ use it and then¨C"


    "Once its power has been called, the Griseous Orb will become an inescapable black hole of immense force, and swallow all who stand close toward the World of Distortion."


    "And that is¡­"


    "There is no time to explain. Suffice to say, it is an inhabitable place for all but the sturdiest of Spirits. All who step inside, will die. So it''s probably your best shot."


    [Tulip stays silent, thinking. The sound of the door breaking down, finally, is all the loudest in the absence of her voice.]


    "¡­Could I take you with me, if I wanted to?"


    "I figure you could. Indeed."


    "And would you die from it? Alberich, I mean."


    "¡­ I would not. Though it would be a nuisance, I''d wager. You could always¨C"


    "No, it''s alright."


    [Finally, the first large piece of door is dislodged by an even greater blast of psychic energy, landing upon the floor with a deaf thump. Malva can be heard through the crack, urging Walpurgis on. She does not sound happy.


    Tulip takes a fearful breath, then lets it go in a sigh. The recorder shakes in her hand. The Griseous Orb hisses in the other.]


    "I¡­ didn''t even know you back then, Lynne. But I''m sure I heard your soul crying out in pain and¡­ I answered. I brought you back from the brink. I remembered you when nothing else could. That''s all I ever wanted, and not just for the people of Wysteria. So now even though you''re¡­ agh, in there with the one responsible for all of this¡­ I trust you. To keep on living, and fighting, like I would have."


    "T¡­Tulip."


    "So here¡­ catch."


    [The audio sharpens as the recorder is thrown through the air, only to be caught by Lynne. The static emerging from Tulip and the Orb are barely hearable. Her voice, however, rings loud and clear, even through the destruction and collapse of the door behind them.]


    "You''re in charge of remembering me now. I k-know you''ll do a good job. You''re my¡­ assistant, after all."


    "¡­Only until you come back, yeah?"


    "¡­Yeah. Of course."


    "I''m serious, I''m not giving up on you. You deserve a happy ending, after all of this."


    "Yeah, well¡­"


    [Steps are heard entering the room. Walpurgis'' psychic feels heavy upon the air. Malva bellows out, all patience gone from her voice.]


    TULIP!


    "¡­We can''t always get what we want. At least now my death won''t be entirely pointless."


    Sir, get away from her! Agh, you¡­ stubborn, disgusting pest! I''ve! Had! Enough of you! Walpurgis: Mystical Fire!


    [The hum becomes a shriek as Walpurgis shoots high into the air, flames crackling and condensing in front of her, moments from falling upon Tulip.


    She sighs.]


    "You¡­ you can come out. But keep it brief."


    [A roaring jet of flames shoots through the air, shaking the room by the sheer force at which they shoot out from Walpurgis'' wand. At the same time, Tulip moves. The static from the Griseous Orb gets stronger.


    And then, someone speaks with Tulip''s voice, but with a tone and cadence that are clearly not hers. Prideful, arrogant, and more than a little unhinged.


    Shadi cries out to the object in her hand, her voice echoing loudly.]


    "Extinguish these flames until they are but cold cinders!"


    WHAT!?


    [It''s an odd sound, like a reverse explosion. A vacuum of space forming in Tulip/Shadi''s hand, exerting such incredible pressure in front of her that the pillar of flames is swallowed up into it like water circling down a drain. It disappears with a pitiful whine, siphoning Walpurgis'' power in its entirety.


    A second later, the Pokemon hits the ground hard, collapsing with a thump. He attempts to get up, in vain. Painful whines leave its mouth.]


    W-w-wh¡­


    "My, what pathetic little flames¡­ and you dare call yourself the Demon of Flare? Ha! It must be nice to come from such a gentle, lukewarm hell. Let me show you the power of my domain, then! A dark so deep and empty it can swallow up even the hottest flames of the underw¨CAgh! F-fuck, wait¡­!"


    [Judging from the sound, Tulip seems to slap herself with her free hand, stopping Shadi''s monologue and putting herself back in control.]


    "Tsk¡­ I told you to keep it brief you ridiculous nerd."


    N-no! That can''t have been¡­ that''s the Griseous Orb! How did you get that!? Sir!? What''s happening!?


    [The man behind Tulip says nothing.]


    That''s¡­ t-this doesn''t make any sense! Shadi''s been...! The one who should have the orb is¡­ i-is¡­


    [Realization finally dawns on Malva, and the air itself shakes and hums with the burning rage emanating from her body.]


    S¡­SANBICA!


    [Guilty as charged.


    Malva''s scream lets loose a shockwave of heat and sound that almost knocks Tulip off her feet. She slides a step back, growling in pain. From afar, hurried and desperate steps are heard. Malva runs straight for her, furious beyond comprehension, bellowing at the top of her longs.


    There''s that cold, uncaring crackle of dark flames again. It swallows Malva whole as she throws herself at Tulip.]


    JUST DIE ALREADY!


    "Ghk¡­!"


    [The force of her scream knocks Tulip off balance, throwing her back, and it is then that the cold, crackling jaws of oblivion close in around her, intent on erasing her from existence.


    There is no grasp, no sound of those burning fingers closing around flesh. Instead, the opposite happens. Tulip throws her foot back to regain balance and, in an act that seems miraculous from someone in her state, she raises her free hand and closes it like a vice around Malva''s wrist, stopping the flames from touching her.


    Malva gasps, her voice gone. Tulip takes in a sharp, victorious breath, and speaks.]


    "¡­You''re terribly simple, you know that?"


    [There''s a noticeable creak as Tulip''s fingers close even tighter around her wrist, with force she should no longer possess.]


    G-ghah! Let-let go of me!


    "The s-singularity''s taken everything from me except for¡­ them. Those I''ve interviewed. And those I''ve fought against. Some of them were good people. Many w-weren''t. But I''ve no right to judge them, considering the suffering I caused. But you''re different. You committed the one sin no man or deity can forgive. The one I can''t possible ignore."


    S-SHUT UP! LET ME GO, LET ME¡­AGH! Y-YOU STUPID BITCH¡­!


    "I sentence you to death, Malva, for the sin of never giving a shit about anyone but yourself."


    [Still grabbing onto her, Tulip raises the Griseous Orb in between them, and parts her lips to speak. The first sentence is her own. The second is Shadi speaking through her.]


    "Goodbye, Lynne. May we meet again, someday."


    NO! W-WAIT, PLEASE¡­!


    "Come forth, Gate of Distorsion!"


    [Malva screams, but the sound is almost immediately drowned out by a wave of nothingness.


    The two sources of static, the two singularities, contract for an instant and then burst outwards like an exploding star, swallowing every speck of matter, every wave of sound, replacing it with a static so powerful the audio of the recording peaks to its limit, and does not come back.


    In the last moment before that dead silence swallows everything, before the recording is abruptly stopped, an exhausted yet triumphant laugh is heard. It''s hard to tell whether it belongs to Tulip or Shadi. It may be both.


    The laugh disappears, and the recording distorts beyond measure, then finally stops.]


    <hr>


    [¡­


    ¡­


    .


    .


    .


    The next time the recorder is turned on, it is far away from the ruins, almost halfway across the world. There''s the sound of people inside a building, walking around, tapping their foot impatiently while sitting down, talking in whispers amongst themselves, worried. Fear and anxiety permeate the building. The person holding the recorder walks through the hospital''s long corridors in search of a specific room. No one stops her, even when they should.


    Three days have passed since Tulip''s disappearance, and slightly less since the near-cataclysmic event now known worldwide as Sinnoh''s Moonless Night. The region is, understandably, still in a panic. Following not only the events of that night, but also the declaration from¡­


    Ah, but that is a story for another day.


    The person holding the recording goes up a set of stairs and walks down a long, quiet corridor full of rooms containing patients in critical state. The only person she encounters up there is a girl who accidentally runs into her, but then apologizes and leaves. There is no one to stop her as she reaches the final room on the right side, and reaches for the doorknob with anxious fingers.


    The door swivels open with a grating creak, and she stands there, under the sill, for a few long moments as she stares at the woman resting in the hospital bed inside.]


    ¡­There you are.


    [Cautiously, almost anxiously, she closes the door behind her and walks toward the side of the bed. As she stops, only the other woman''s breathing can be heard. It''s slow, but controlled. There are no electronic beeps indicating any kind of machine keeping her alive. It simply sounds as though she is asleep, nothing more.]


    ¡­I guess this is the part where any halfway decent person would say they''re sorry. But well¡­ you know us by now.


    [She laughs sadly at herself. The woman on the bed remains in a deep sleep.]


    I admit, out of all the possible futures I got a vague glimpse of, I never once saw you surviving. Or¡­ what''s left of you, I guess. But you keep defying the odds time and time again, don''t you? You''re¡­ lucky Riley decided to take you back. The Griseous Orb, well that one''s obvious, we needed that. But you¡­


    You''re the only one that should feel grateful for what Riley did. Even if, realistically, you probably wouldn''t.


    You''re lucky, Tulip. And that might just be a curse greater than any us Stigmas must bear.


    [There are a few moments of silence then. Despite there only being one conscious person in the room, a second presence can be acutely felt, pulsing with small bursts of static.


    But Tulip remains asleep. Her breathing deep and rhythmic. The person holding the recorder sighs, then lightly places it upon the stand next to the bed. She keeps it there, but doesn''t take her hand away yet.]


    I¡­ got the information from the nurses. You haven''t woken up since then, and it''s doubtful if you ever will. Normally I would not interfere further than this. As I said, your existence means nothing to me¡­ but the same can''t be said of him.


    He told me to bring this back to you, and to honor your last wish. I agree it''s the least you deserve, after¡­ everything. I already transcribed everything, now I just need a good title for the last fragm¡­ no. The last entry. You said you''d come back to that name once all the pieces fit together, didn''t you? I''ll honor that as well¡­ as soon as I search for a list of wisteria species names, ha.


    ¡­He''ll be looking over you, you know? He said as much. Said that he''d wait for you to come back, for as long as it takes. This new him is¡­ I admit, a bit too saccharine for my taste, but I guess I can''t complain.


    [She puts a bit more weight against the recorder on the stand, and her finger hovers over the Stop button.]


    Goodbye, Tulip. If we ever meet again, I hope you will not remember me. But rest assured, I will very much remember you, as the second person to ever break my chains of fate.


    Thank you, for not betraying my expectations until the end.


    [There is a plastic click, and the recording goes dead for good.]