Welcome to Gaia! ::

The ferry eased to a stop at a small terminal and, from there, the quaint little main street of Three Island. I felt like someone had taken a dash of Paniola Town, a large dose of rural Hoenn, and a hint of who-knows-what and thrown it all together on a rural island. If not for all the street signs and the unfamiliar buildings, my mind could have told me I had made it to Alola.

Instead, I found myself with a hike to make, riding my Wyrdeer while casting an illusion that it was a little kei car like all the ones that slowly cruised up and down the roads here. It all felt so quaint. Out in the wastelands on Aether Island were a few cars, left to rust under the “elements”, largely because there was no gasoline to fuel them. Before the Dome, I heard, gasoline and oil had to be shipped to every island in Alola. The fact they still did it in this time made me shake my head—and reminded me of what I needed to stop this world from turning into.

Despite being the most populous of the Sevii Islands, this town was overwhelmingly sleepy and easy to miss as I passed its small izakayas and general stores behind. The rest of Three Island was lushly forested with breathtaking views of its volcano, known teasingly as Little Mt. Ember, and the sea. After my tour of Alola, I couldn’t help but see the similarities. Three Island alone was like someone had taken the intimacy and quaintness of Poni, the volcano and jungle of Akala, and the black sand of Ula’ula and reimagined them somewhere south of Kanto.

The paved road ended at a small trailhead pointing the way to Bond Bridge, Little Three Island, and Berry Forest. I ended the illusion and dismounted Kia, recalling her to my Poké Ball as I set off. The trail was far more natural in feel. A Persian crossed the road, a pair of young-looking Meowth walking unsteadily behind them. Pidgey and Pidgeotto chirped busily. A Slowpoke had a Weepinbell chomping on its tail—wait, what?

I stopped and looked at the Slowpoke, somewhat concerned. Was this normal? It certainly didn’t seem to notice; it stared out at the trail. *Slowpoke. Water/Psychic. The Dopey Pokémon. It lazes vacantly near water. If something bites its tail, it won't even notice for a whole day.* That was not what I expected… was this fine? My Pokédex spit out another entry. *Weepinbell. Grass/Poison. The Flycatcher Pokémon. When hungry, it swallows anything that moves. Its hapless prey is melted inside by strong acids.*

That concerned me more. So this *wasn’t* normal. Worse yet, the Slowpoke might not have a tail at the end of it. I did not want to risk my Psychic Pokémon being poisoned, given that I might need them later in the forest, so I sent out my young Orthworm, Hao, who thrashed about wildly in excitement about being released from its Poké Ball. He was young, and it showed.

“Iron Tail!” The blue worm swiped at the Weepinbell but missed, the low accuracy of the move and his young battle skills combining as he swiped at nothing. That was enough to anger the Flycatcher Pokémon, whose attacking options were limited by its currently flavorful snack, slowly dissolving in acid. It tried spitting acid at the Orthworm, which shrugged it off effortlessly as a Steel-type. It shook, the acid dripping off its body, and unprompted tried another Iron Tail. This time, it was successful in severing the two. I noticed, though, that the tail had come cleanly off the Slowpoke. It wasn’t even bleeding. I tapped my SNAG. “Are there any Pokédex entries about Slowpoke tails?” *Its long tail often breaks off. It doesn't really feel any pain, though, and the tail grows back, so Slowpoke isn't particularly bothered. Pokédex of Species Introduced to Alola, Alolan Sun University, 2018.*

Feeling a little better about the tailless Slowpoke’s plight, I walked past, remembering something Mama Kehla told me as a little girl, that people in Alola once ate dried Slowpoke tails in stew and even Slowpoke tail jerky. Of course, that was before my time, or now in this time. I took a deep sigh and walked down the trail, recalling the Orthworm. Eventually, I came across a small wooden bridge, built plank by plank. A sign proclaimed this to be the Bond Bridge to Little Three Island and cautioned me, “Please be quiet while crossing.” I carefully made my way across, taking in the view of the endless sea for a brief moment before staring up at the entrance on the other side, a small clearing leading right into what looked to be a dense grove of trees.

The moment both my feet were back on solid ground, I could start smelling it. It was intoxicating, sweet with constantly shifting notes, wanting to awaken some primal Pokémon instinct within me. The aroma of Berry Forest grew as the sunlight diminished into patches that illuminated some of the source of the smell. The ground was rich with piles of Berries, sometimes falling right off the trees that grew. Dozens of varieties, many unfamiliar to me—after all, Berries didn’t grow in the wild in the wastelands, some species were probably extinct, and Flower City’s arboretum only could grow so many even for the richest citizens. I couldn’t help myself and started nibbling on one. Unexpectedly, my SNAG fired off about the Berry like it would for an item. *Niniku Berry. Dry and bitter. Grows quickly, but does not yield many Berries. A pleasant scent comes out through the stem. Grown only by some farmers in Hoenn and wild on the Sevii Islands.* The hunger and smell got to me, and my appetite kept the SNAG busy reading descriptions of Berries in my early steps, throwing a few more in my bag. Niniku, Lum, Kelpsy, Wepear, Iapapa, Nomel, Kuo, Chilan, Sitrus—

I suddenly heard a cackling sound just as I reached for one more Berry pile, one that would have looked like heaven to a Crabrawler. A Pokémon floated and looked at me. *Mismagius. Ghost. The Magical Pokémon. It appears as if from nowhere—muttering incantations, placing curses, and giving people terrifying visions.* That did not sound fun! Aware from my mission brief that the forest’s wild Hypno might put Pokémon to sleep, I decided to send out Noio, my Honchkrow, who chirped as Mismagius floated in the air.

I was taken aback when the first move Mismagius used was Power Gem. That was a Rock-type move! I recognized, however, that I had been left a perfect opportunity. “Comeuppance!” The Honchkrow’s Dark-type move, in addition to being super effective on its own merits, returned and then some the damage wrought by the Mismagius, sending it reeling as it feebly floated to the ground. The pile of Berries it had cast as an illusion had disappeared, though my impulsive eating a few moments earlier had satiated me, much to my relief. If I hadn’t eaten, the Berry Forest would have tortured me by sight and smell all the way to the end.

I recalled the Honchkrow and began venturing deeper into the forest, blithe to the lullabies of several different Hypno. As I did so, I was swarmed by Pokémon in waves. The moment that a group of Weepinbell surrounded me, I knew I could not simply use Honchkrow. Instead, I brought out my Camerupt, Lua Pele, and commanded her to use Lava Plume to blast the surrounding Pokémon with fire. I could only hope this would not be so damaging to the forest and wished I had a different move that hit from range.

The deeper I went, the less sunlight there was, the canopy so thick that only a fraction of the sun’s rays made it to the forest floor. I was having to fight Pokémon at practically every turn, pushing Lua Pele to her limit against hordes of Parasect, Gloom, and even Victreebel. It was exhausting. I had yet to come across any Pecha Berries that seemed “golden” or “special”. The forest was humid. Its Pokémon were outright hostile. How was I going to—

“Saur.” A large, quadrupedal Pokémon stood in my way. *Venusaur. Grass/Poison. The Seed Pokémon. A bewitching aroma wafts from its flower. The fragrance becalms those engaged in a battle.* “Saur saur.” I wish I knew what it was saying, but I was not a Grass-type. Whatever it wanted to convey, though, enthralled the Pokémon in the forest. The area around me ominously quieted to just a soft breeze through the trees. “Saur saur sauuuur?” It turned and stared at me.

“I am seeking a special Berry for a farmer. I do not want to damage the forest and come in peace.”

“Saur, saur saur. Saur sa saur venusaurrrrr!” Its growl was the first indication that it was not happy. “Saur saur.” I felt like a total outsider, unsure of what this Pokémon was saying. Two large vines extended themselves around me and ushered me off behind it, leading through the grove to the dimmest area I had seen in the forest. Arranged in a circle, sitting in a clearing, were six more Venusaur. In the middle was a particularly large specimen, who eyed me intently as I was brought in. Its flower had a crown-like component sticking out from the middle.

“Sauurrrrr,” she growled. The one Venusaur that had led me over took its place in the circle. I realized I was in deep trouble if I did not have a Pokémon who could tell me what they were saying. I had to bring out Kia the Wyrdeer and start doing some mental communication.

“Again, I want to say that I come here in peace looking for a specific Berry.” Through Wyrdeer, who projected my thoughts into their heads, I suddenly started hearing the Venusaurs’ remarks in mine.

“That’s what they all say. Do you not see all the defense mechanisms we have built up over generations? The Hypno, the Mismagius… Us?”

“I was attacked and had to defend myself.”

“Because you don’t belong here. Even if you, too, are part Pokémon.” The mother was firm. If not for her type, I might have thought her Ability was Rock Head.

“What is it that you seek, miss?”

“A Golden Pecha Berry. The last grower of them lost all his crops in a storm.”

One of the Venusaur sighed. “It reminds me of the old story of the Great Storm. It swirled, the trees swayed for days, we lost so much…” It took me a moment to realize that they, too, had experienced a typhoon in their recorded past.

“How about this. One of us will lead you there, but we still must punish you for your trespasses. The Pokémon you are using to communicate with us may stay, but she must step to the side.” Trepidation filled me. “You, stand in the center of the circle.”

Kia trotted over to the side, next to the mother Venusaur, leaving me alone amongst the beasts.

“Power Whip!” she called. Suddenly, vines extended from the others except for the mother. They lashed me with Grass-type chi across my body, thwacking me across the back.

~

I sat in a cold, unfeeling concrete box, strapped to the chair. A lone light illuminated the cell in harsh, white light. While I was used to being in Flower City’s lower levels, this was not the typical way I experienced them—not working at Sub Rosa but in the dungeon.

"Meddler," the guard spat at me, her Dhelmise floating in the air ominously. "You know very well, missy, that you are not to apprehend emissaries of His Majesty in your land. And Lady Angelica is an emissary of His Majesty.”

"She was trying to *proposition* me! I may work at Sub Rosa, but that does not mean I am a girl toy for him and his crew," I spat, my disdain for King Faba oozing out of the last few words. "I control who has access to my body, and she wanted to throw herself against me without my consent.”

"The Wastelands belong to us too, you know," she spat. "We only *let* you live there.” That arrogance of theirs coated everything they did. I hated it so, so much. “I’ll let you live there again, because you are usually useful to us. You and your body,” she added with a wicked smile. "But you must remember who is the king. You must remember your place. We rule, and you don’t.” She glared at Dhelmise, which floated nearly motionlessly in the corner.

Then the whips came. Lashes, hard on my bare skin, gashes making me bleed. The few times I could open my eyes for a peek, I saw her, sadistically grinning from ear to ear at my predicament. In between the pain, I tried to cry, making guttural yells that echoed off the smooth concrete walls. I felt not only whips gashing but whips teasing me, trying to penetrate between my legs, searching for something...

~

My whole body shook. “Stop it stop it stop it!” I cried, the anguish of having a moment I thought I’d shut out of my head return brighter than the undomed sun to my mind. “You don’t know the pain you are inflicting on me!”

Slowly, the various vines retracted to the Pokémon whence they came. My Wyrdeer walked over, perhaps sensing something different about my cries. I hugged it, wanting to cling to something mine, familiar, trustworthy. My body ached from the beatings, enough where I could not cast an Illusion if I wanted to.

“Your Pokémon tells us that, for some reason, she detected a very emotional response to that, but she couldn’t tell why,” I heard.

All I could do is nod. “I came here to help someone, not to relive something terrible from my past.”

The Venusaur started talking among each other instead of looking at me. The Wyrdeer, however, was still busy feeding me with translations. A moment later, the matriarch spoke. “Fine. You can come with me. But if you misbehave, I will not hesitate to use Frenzy Plant on you, miss.”

I offered a respectful bow and nodded. She extended a pair of vines to—this time—gently lead me through the depths of the forest, out of the clearing, my Wyrdeer following. Everywhere she went, she used Frenzy Plant to bend trees out of her way. Pokémon from Tangrowth to Golduck curtseyed in her presence. After seeing the shogun in Paldea, it never ceased to amaze me the types of societies Pokémon on their own could build. It made sense here. Little Three Island had no permanent human population, no other features other than a single bridge to its parent. And the Pokémon here liked it that way. Humans had enough of Three Island to live on, if they truly wanted to live in such a remote place, and they could always be tourists. After all, Three Island was the largest in the Seviis.

“Saur saur.” *Here you are.* The matriarch stopped at one of the few clearings that was bathed in sunlight, revealing a tree with large, juicy Pecha Berries. I was glad to see the end of the journey, given how bruised I was. I knew that, the moment I returned to Snagem, I’d be in for a consultation with Doc Owl.

“I will take two, and that’s it.” I walked over to the three and plucked two of the most precious Berries, setting them in a box I’d brought along for extra safe keeping. Given how deep in the Berry Forest this was, it was no wonder that they were protected; they may not even have been the most precious things growing here, but to get to them would have required disturbing so many Pokémon.

“Venusaur saur.” *I will now lead you out of the forest. Thank you for your understanding.*

I wished they hadn’t whipped me, but I was not going to argue with her. She opened a trail, bending the canopy to reveal a slit of sunlight, a path beckoning me back to Bond Bridge. All I could do before mounting Kia—I was not going to do any more walking than I needed to until I could be healed—was bow out of respect. And be thankful that I no longer lived under the Dome.

It started with an innocuous-looking letter.

Snagem didn’t get mail delivery to Mt. Silver for all sorts of practical reasons. Instead, someone was paid by the team to maintain a post office box in Blackthorn City and then teleport the mail to and from the team.

The letter had clearly traveled a long way. I noticed it bore a Spikemuth, Galar, postmark, but no return address. I hadn’t been there since the mission to capture Stanley Blackstar. After slicing open the envelope, I found it to contain a short handwritten note.

> Dear Monique,
>
> Your leader contacted me recently with a suggestion. Sub believes that there is much for you to unlock, especially now that you are a Dark-type and a hybrid. After some discussion, he has asked me—and now you—to introduce you to some people I know. You'll probably be here for a little bit, so pack what you need.
>
> I am expecting you at Shadow House here in Spikemuth. If you don’t see me, just ask the bartender.
>
> Yours thievily, Robin

My head spun as I sat on the bed, holding the paper in my hands. Was this really happening? Spikemuth, for all the heroics I was able to pull off, was kinda creepy. Then again, so was Sub Rosa sometimes.

I started thinking about what to pack and what Pokémon to take along. Spikemuth was a Dark-type city, and presumably that was related to the reason Robin wanted to see me. That would be bad for Kalama and Hālena. Lua Pele, the Camerupt, was an obvious choice. So too were Mo’ala and Noio—they were Dark-types and provided basic type coverage. That was three. To fill out my roster, I chose Poloka the Croagunk—not likely a place like Spikemuth would have many Psychic-types—plus Pahi the Kleavor and Akala, for when I needed healing. Who knew where I was going? Otherwise, I could pack light—a few changes of basic clothes with my ability to cast Illusions probably would be enough. At least this time, it would just be a straight teleport ride away.

When I approached him, Sub knew this was coming. He fessed up to starting this and explained why—this was in lieu of having a Grand Master for the type, since none existed. That alone made me a little trepidatious. But I knew Sub trusted me, or else he would not have initiated this whole process to help me grow as a person. With his blessing, I summoned Claydol to teleport me and a bag of personal belongings to Spikemuth.

***

That familiar patchy light, the neon everywhere under the cover, the slight dankness in the air… No doubt this was Spikemuth, the “new city” that never truly soared. As I walked in to the dimly lit Shadow House, it was 16:00. The pub was hopping; there were only a handful of empty tables. I didn’t see anyone who looked like a Thievul in the crowd, though there were Dark- and Poison-type hybrids aplenty in the milieu.

“Excuse me,” I asked the bartender, who took a moment from gazing at some match on the TV to meet my eyes. “Is Robin here?”

“Ah yes, Monique…” It felt weird to be in a faraway city in Galar and be recognized on a first-name basis, though I supposed that after ending Stanley’s reign of terror, I had become quite recognizable. “He’s been waiting for you. Let me call him and tell him you’re here. In the meantime… What can I get started for you, miss?”

“Last time, I had the fish and chips… What do you recommend?”

“How about the steak and ale pie? We sell more of that than anything else,” he responded. “We even sell it for spectators at the Gym. They say it’s some of the best scran in Galar.”

I couldn’t doubt him. “Then let’s do that.” I sat and waited for a few minutes while he placed the call to Robin and put in my order. On the television, instead of a Pokémon battle, there was some sort of sporting event from Unova. They had facilities that, in addition to handling battles, were used for non-Pokémon sports like baseball and football. It held my attention and served as a useful distraction for a few moments before a plate containing a large, piping hot pastry was put in front of me. I started to cut into it, the scent of its brown, meaty filling awakening something primal in me.

A few minutes later, that Thievul tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s find a table. Hard to talk like that at the bar.” I took my plate, and he ushered me to a table almost in the darkest corner. For a pub called Shadow House in Spikemuth, that meant pretty dark. “Anyway… Hello there, foxy."

I blushed. “You’re too sweet.”

“Well, think of what you did for us.” He let a little grin show. “Your leader told me more about you. You have a story, miss, and so much potential. So much to unlock. And yet that Zoroark side of you is still kind of foreign.”

I nodded in agreement while chewing. “I especially felt that after…well, being a Primarina for a few hours there.”

“Well, I think there is a solution. It’s underneath our feet.”

“What?” I tilted my head, my hair swishing a bit, confused.

“Not many people know about this, but… Did you know there was supposed to be a Spikemuth Metro?”

“…Like, trains?”

“Yes, like trains. Most cities in Galar of this size have public transport worth their salt in addition to the national trains. They wanted to build one here, but they ran into a problem."

“Oh?"

“The land under here is full of ebonite deposits. Which means it’s very hard to dig through, and only a few parts were completed. Mining the ebonite would have the potential to destabilize the land, so they had to stop. It’s also the reason there’s no Power Spot… You can’t drill through all that gem.”

I tilted my head, still chewing on a forkful of pie. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“The Metro is its own world, inhabited by Dark-types. The people down there… They may not look kindly on most surface-dwellers, but let’s face it. You will find yourself down there, Dark-type girl."

I could only nod. “I… I..."

“It’s hard when you’re not…born a hybrid, I suppose. Sub told me you were, what, 25 when you turned up here?"

I nodded.

“Have you ever…been able to tap into your Dark-type nature?"

“Only when under extreme duress.” My mind thought back to that Ultra Beast with the exploding head. Or the time Stanley furiously slashed me.

“Makes sense. When you act out of instinct. It takes us lots of time, but… It might help you find yourself to go down there. I know some folks there, and they have agreed to help you out."

I had finished my meal, and Robin was a few minutes behind me. He didn’t want to say too much, which I understood. Anything that underground was clearly secret for a reason. Instead, we talked about my Pokémon, most of which were unfamiliar to him. Getting to talk about Kalama—my only fellow Faller. The Shadow Pokémon I’d purified. Noio, the Murkrow drunk on channeling. Robin was, I had to admit, charming. A trickster, sure, but a charming one. Maybe it was the Dark-type chi talking.

Eventually, our dinner came to an end. Robin picked up the tab, to my surprise, and then softly ushered me out. “I know where we need to go."

***

We stopped in front of a building that, like so many in Spikemuth, looked quite derelict in the sad way that suggested this building was once designed to signal hope. A battered facade, unlit, only had the letters M and R, leaving space for others that had apparently long since fallen off. In front of the building was a Pangoro hybrid, burly. It didn’t take a long look at his personage to sense that just one punch from him would hurt, especially for a Dark-type. Robin approached.

“I have a guest.”

“Oh?” he sneered. “Since when do we allow guests?”

“I talked with Mimi.” He whispered something in the Pangoro’s ear.

“Alright. You may proceed. But…” He glared at me. “One mistake and you will be cast out.” This bouncer was serious. He was guarding the place like it was Sub Rosa. We moved quickly behind him and into the above-ground entrance of what clearly had once been intended as a railway station. Only one dim, fluorescent light provided any visual indication of where to go: the steps. I descended cautiously, Robin holding my shoulder, into a tunnel below. The walls were not concrete—no, this was not The Under—but raw ebonite. I involuntarily blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to some kind of new light source that wasn’t light at all, showing everything as shades of pitch black. My SNAG had lost all connection.

“Over here,” a voice called. I looked over and saw a woman, a Morpeko hybrid, sitting on what appeared to be a bench. I walked over with trepidation.

“Are… Are you Mimi?” My voice echoed differently in the chambers.

“Why yes, I am Mimi and Edwyn Henrietta. Nice to meet you.”

“…Edwyn?”

“I have two personalities. Comes with being a Morpeko. I flip pretty regularly, and I have to carry seeds everywhere.” She looked at Robin. “Thank you, Robin. You may go now.”

“You’re welcome.” With that, the trickster fox dashed off, back up the steps. Here I was, alone in a very new place.

“And I’m Monique Ka’ana’ana. Member of Team Snagem, Faller...”

“Oh, Robin has told me everything.” She let out a wry smile. “Let’s sit.” I sat down on the bench next to her. “Robin came to us because he believed there was something we could unlock in you, since you are not all that in tune with yourself.” A sigh as she munched on a seed. “You see, I am part of what we call the Transport Police.” A wry smirk and a look around the shiny, black-walled tunnel. “We serve to keep our laws down here. They may not be normal laws to you surface-dwellers, but they are our laws. In fact, you’re breaking one right now, young miss."

I tilted my head, my mane swaying and the Illusion of my hair tilting too. “What?” I asked, almost incredulous.

“Take off those… *clothes*,” she sneered. “Do you wanna look like a gleaming surface-dweller around here? Nuh-uh. You can’t gain our respect that way.”

*What did I get myself into? This isn't Sub Rosa.* I looked around, and indeed, none of the hybrids I saw milling about were wearing anything. There was no way I could cross Mimi. Not now. I shed everything and held the bundle in my hand. “I didn’t bring enough bags for this.”

“That’s fine. We’ll put your stuff in the station. Which I should probably show you.” We started walking, myself feeling sensitive to every little change in wind current on my exposed fur. The tunnels felt like a labyrinth. The big one had clearly been made for the Metro, but there were all these little warrens and side passageways. “Even though it is tough as diamond to conventional tools, Dark-types can carve ebonite out more efficiently than their machines because it is of our type, and we know how to do it without making Spikemuth cave in.” I followed Mimi’s lead to a little cavern that, to my eye, appeared to have blue trim. “Transport Police Station.” We walked past a reception desk, empty, and into a small room. “This is my office,” she explained. It was at first cramped and cluttered, with a few boxes here and there, yet also organized—the desk was clean, and there was a chair for me to set down my bag. “Everything with me is both at once. Cluttered and clean, friendly and vicious, officer and…” She stopped, like she felt a sneeze coming on. Her fur seemed to ripple, changing colors, her eyes narrowing, her smile growing from warm to nasty. “Villain, yes,” she completed the sentence as she finished flipping to Hangry Mode.

“Wait. You’re a villain and you work for the police?”

“Well, well, Monique… No different than a stripper, eh?” Edwyn’s voice had all-new inflections and vocal patterns.

I couldn’t object to that one. Clearly, she’d been filled in on my entire background. I shuddered to think what her dossier had on me. “Alright. Now, miss, let’s get down to work. I am not Edwyn the Enforcer for nothing.”

She passed me a folder containing several pieces of paper. “We have a problem that requires your assistance, and consider this your test. Miss Ka’ana’ana, you must thread the needle. Capture her, prevent our cruel judge from consigning her to a terrible fate, and prevent our Demon from blocking her path.”

“Who is she?” I opened the folder up. It felt weird to hold one of these. We only had so many in the New Po sheriff’s office, stuffed in a pre-Smog filing cabinet that sat there in a corner of the room.

“Mallory Quidd. Malamar hybrid. 32. May be using the alias Bennie. Robbed the Newsagent and claims she didn’t do it. Nuh-uh, she did. We believe she is in hiding somewhere in Spikemuth or nearby. She is wanted. Alive.”

“What is the Newsagent?”

“It is part pub, part place where you buy newspapers. The only place in the Metro that sells the *Spikemuth Evening Mail*, *Wyndon Chronicle*, and yes, even the *Moon*, even a few days late. We love us some tabloids.” She grinned, indicating there must have been something more to that remark than I understood.

I started leafing through the files. There was a physical description with things to watch out for: her arms connected differently than a normal hybrid, to her torso and not her shoulders, and some of her fingers had sharp, scythe-like sides. There were notes about possible connections on the surface, the robbery of the Newsagent, and eyewitness testimonies. The “Transport Police” were competent.

“This is very useful information.” I felt like I had something to go on, yet it did not seem like enough. “Yet I lack any clues as to where she may be on the surface.”

“Well,” Edwyn began with a cackle, “Malamar are very hypnotic Pokémon whose flashing lights serve to control those who see them. Here, of course…” She got up and tapped the ebonite wall. “That is harmless. But if she goes up on the surface…” Her big smile grew. “Oh, if I wanted to conquer the world that’s who I'd be!” It was clear that her Hangry Mode self had some additional designs. “Anyway… This is your task, Monique. Go back to the surface and find out what you can about Mallory or Bennie. Find her and bring her down here.” She handed me some sort of communication apparatus and a piece of paper. “That is for talking with us in the Transport Police. Let us know how it goes. …And you might run out of time for the night. If you do, come back here and there’ll be a room for you at Morrigan’s inn. It’s one more side tunnel down from this one. The paper will let the guard know you can come through again."

“…Thank you, Edwyn.” Just as I said it, her fur rippled right back into place. Suddenly, she was Mimi again.

“Any time, dear!” *Her voice even had shifted back*, it occurred to me as I turned away.

***

As I walked out and back up to the surface (with suitable Illusion), my eyes took a moment to readjust to actual light, even though I was still under the big cover. It was nighttime, with no rays of sun shining through the holes, and most of the shops were closed except for the odd arcade or eatery. I made my way back to the familiar place, the Shadow House. I knew of no other place to start figuring out everything.

“You’re back?” the bartender asked.

“…Yeah, I have some business here still, but I don’t think I can say what else I’m doing. I’ll just take some water.” He began filling up a glass.

“So, is there anything in local culture you want to know about?”

My mind wanted to ask about the ebonite or the Metro or really anything, but that would be rude to Mimi. They didn’t take kindly to most surface-dwellers, so I assumed blabbing about the underground was just as verboten. “…Well, I’ve only ever been up here and by the old cannery row.”

“You know… There used to be a lighthouse up there. Well, it’s still there, but it doesn’t light up at night.” I sat patiently and listened. “They needed it back when there were all the fishing boats. But lately people have been seeing flickering lights from it.” I tilted my head. “Which is odd, since it ceased working back in ’94. One of those rounds of, uh, ‘rationalisation’. Galarian-speak for ‘budget cuts’."

“Huh. Is it an electrical issue? A Ghost Pokémon?”

“No, but some people have reacted really oddly to the lights,” he continued. “Becoming belligerent. A little delusional. They talk weirdly. Some of them say something about—“

“Excuse me?” Another patron was seeking to have his drink filled. I felt like he was on the cusp of providing a clue yet had my hopes momentarily dashed. I realized I didn’t even know *his* name.

“What is your name, anyway? Can’t believe I never asked you.”

“Craig."

“Nice to meet you, finally.” I let out a sigh. “So, what can you tell me about the lighthouse?"

“Well… Some people have become very affected if they glimpse the lights. I had a friend, a Grapploct hybrid, who saw them the other day and he keeps talking about this Miss Bennie. I don’t know—"

“Wait.” My mind screeched to a halt. “Bennie?”

“Y-yeah. Does that sound familiar?"

“Where is this lighthouse again?” I asked, increasingly excited.

“By the old canneries. The one where the Five Points people had the fight club you broke up…” As Craig explained this to me, I was shifting out of my chair and dashing away. *Finally. A clue.*

As I made my way out beyond the Cover into the gloomy, cloudy eastern Galar night, I was reminded of moments like this. Where a lead would trickle up and then Sheriff Gardenia sent me, or later I went out, either in town or to some forsaken outpost in the wastelands. I had to be ready. I had to have backup ready should the need arise. I had to have fortitude. It forced me to confront how different my life was now. My missions for Snagem were often team efforts or solo jaunts. The camaraderie was different than I had with Gardenia or with the others after she passed.

Having been out toward the old industrial district, I was surprised to see someone on the desolate road. At first, I thought they might be police, patrolling the area. After all, a gang hideout had just been busted in this area. As I got closer, I realized there was a roadblock. Manning it was a Team Yell grunt in the unmistakable black-and-Galarian-pink supporters’ garb of the Spikemuth Gym.

“Have you orders from Miss Bennie to visit?” His speech seemed just a little halting.

I shook my head.

“Then denied access.”

“I want in."

“Me fight you must then.” He withdrew two Poké Balls, revealing a Galarian Linoone and a Weavile.

I fumbled for my belt with Poké Balls—the only clothing I was wearing, not that he had to know that or could see it—and summoned the Camerupt and Kleavor. Neither were native to Galar, and I could see the grunt stagger a bit.

“Lava Plume! X-Scissor!” I called out.

“Wind Icy! Take Down!” The speedy Weavile moved first, unleashing an icy blast that slowed down the chilled foes but wasn’t particularly effective on the Camerupt. Linoone used Take Down on Camerupt, recoiling a bit from slamming into its large volcanic humps, before my Pokémon attacked. Lava Plume sent hot material spewing in all directions, nailing the Weavile especially but also damaging the Kleavor and Linoone. The Weavile struggled to get up and made a valiant attempt at standing upright, but it proceeded to fall flat on its back, unable to continue fighting. The Linoone was all that was left, and it too was sliced and diced by a Sharpness-boosted X-Scissor.

The grunt looked at me, his eyes growing gigantic. He recalled the fainted Pokémon and, without saying a word, ran away from me, toward the cannery and the lighthouse. *What got in him? Drunk? …Hypnotized?* That would explain why the Pokémon didn’t seem affected. They were Dark-types, like Mallory “Bennie” Quidd… Like me. Were my own Pokémon just too busy to fight?

I followed at a distance. The Bay Foods cannery loomed in the distance, now prominently padlocked and with new No Trespassing signs. Even with my better eyesight, it was dark. Next to it was the long-cleared site, now a field, where Coastal Packing burned down in ’82. And next to that, after minutes of nervous walking, I was greeted with an astonishing sight. On the highest outcropping of the cliffs north of Spikemuth, the lighthouse, its flashing not visible from near the base. But its base was swarmed with dozens of Inkay, all around, floating and periodically flashing their lights. My jaw dropped. I’d heard stories of fireflies—Volbeat and Illumise—swarming in Hoenn and Kalos since I got here, an awe-inspiring sight of illumination. For me, this was that. I never thought I’d see a swarm of illuminating floating squid Pokémon outside a lighthouse, but… Then again, when did I think I’d be in the past?

I could only stand for a minute. I wanted to linger longer, but tonight, I had a mission. And it was going to require fighting them. To get their attention and clear a path to the front entrance of the lighthouse, I brought out Mo’ala and Pahi and commanded them to strike their pincers and appendages to make noise. This had the effect of drawing the Inkay to the shrill sound before damaging them with X-Scissor or Razor Shell. The strategy only worked for so long until the Inkay—or maybe Mallory or Bennie—decided to use their powers. All of a sudden, without me or my Crawdaunt sensing any change, the Kleavor stopped attacking, digging its stone blades into the ground for support as it fell asleep.

“Oh tapu,” I exclaimed. Hypnosis at the worst possible time. The Inkay were still circling me, and in my panic, I recalled Pahi and grabbed a Poké Ball hastily. A small frog, Poloka the Croagunk, popped out. *Ugh, what good can she do?* At that point, a soft mist began to fall, the threatening skies finally sharing their payload with the coast and the sea and the Inkay. *Not this…* I thought to myself in frustration. The Croagunk hopped and jumped, trying to take on the opponent and even at one point adopting a boxer’s stance, but it missed and instead used Sucker Punch on Mo’ala, not the intended target. Provoked, the Crawdaunt went after Croagunk and used Razor Shell, yet every wet slice into the Toxic Mouth Pokémon was met with relief. Her Dry Skin activated, replenishing her HP.

The good times for Poloka only lasted so long. One of the Inkay finally wised up and used Psybeam, a double-super-effective move that caused the Croagunk to fall to the ground instantly, its valiant attempt to compete at a disadvantage instead doing more damage to my Pokémon than the opponent. I growled. It was time for a different strategy. The fainted Poloka was recalled, along with Mo’ala, and out came Lua Pele. I had to act fast in case one of the Inkay landed a second Hypnosis.

“Lava Plume!"

A searing ring of heat and flame emanated from the Camerupt, like a blast from a hair dryer on wet hair, leaving the circle of Inkay singed and causing nearly all of them to faint. They were mighty in a shoal but worthless against a reasonably high-powered foe. Only one Inkay stood, loyal to the cause even as it floated more slowly. Perhaps it was the leader. Perhaps it just wanted to make a last stand for its controller.

I had other ideas for it. I reached not for a Poké Ball containing any Pokémon but for an empty one. I hurled it at the Revolving Pokémon, its red beam as the Inkay was reeled in one of the brightest objects on this dim, misty night. The Ball, which fittingly landed upside-down, shook and rattled for a moment as the Pokémon resisted capture, but it all ended with a click. The last Inkay was caught. I clutched the Ball and opted to send it and its contents to storage for now. It didn’t make sense to keep the Inkay over any of my own Pokémon.

The two lines of defense that Ms. Quidd had constructed had been beaten, the hypnotized guard and the Inkay. The door to the lighthouse was, surprisingly given the circumstances yet unsurprisingly given her apparent unstable nature, unlocked. There was little down at the base other than the door and a spiral staircase. I began the climb, moving slowly in case of an ambush. I expected another crafty, hypnotized Inkay to drop down and surprise me or something. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I wondered what I would meet. I knew my criminal suspect was a Malamar with a major split-personality issue, and I knew what she had done below ground, but how far would she fight in hand-to-hand—no, paw-to-tentacle combat?

As I reached the lantern room, now devoid of the massive bulb and reflector that once lit the way for the trawlers off the coast of Spikemuth and with some of its glass panes removed, I heard a voice, at once aquatic and vaguely hypnotic. “Well, well, what here we have? Someone she who thinks is a hero?” *The same jumbled or reversed sentence structure as the hypnotized guard*, I thought.

“Ms. Mallory Quidd,” I began, just like old times in New Po. “You are a fugitive from the justice system of the Spikemuth Metro."

“Trains here don’t run," she replied in defense.

“But you must face the consequences wherever you are. And you can’t hypnotize your way out of this."

“So what? I’ll you beat.” To my surprise, she pulled out two Poké Balls containing Pokémon that were new to me: Ariados and Grapploct. I was expecting her to pull out Dark-types, but instead she pulled out Pokémon I only later realized were weak to Psychic—that is, exceptionally susceptible to her hypnotic suggestions—and strong against Dark, making them good for committing crimes in the Metro.

I had to counter and grabbed the first two Poké Balls available. I was happy to see Noio but frustrated that the other Pokémon I had managed to send out was Akala, my Audino. In that moment, I didn’t need healing: I needed firepower. I was starting the battle off-kilter. Not good.

“Noio, Hurricane! Akala, Zen Headbutt!”

Mallory needed not speak to issue her Pokémon commands, it seemed, as the battle went right on ahead. Noio, the fastest Pokémon on the field, went first, with Hurricane connecting against the Ariados. It winced at the super-effective Flying-type move, which almost finished it off, but it stood strong enough to make its attack of Sticky Web, coating the room in a sticky substance that would hinder the movements of new Pokémon. The Octolock on Noio was also insidious, slowly sapping its defenses with every turn. Akala connected with her Zen Headbutt, which was super effective but came from a Pokémon with generally low attack stats. Nobody was going home this turn.

I was surprised when Grapploct moved first in the next turn, delivering a Brick Break straight to Audino. “Room Trick like you?” she asked. It took me a second to process what she said. You like Trick Room? She’d reversed the Speed of everyone on the battle floor! Before Akala could get up, Ariados used Poison Jab. Suddenly, it was all over for the Hearing Pokémon, who collapsed to the floor, thoroughly fainted as her slower Pokémon suddenly moved faster. I recalled her, irritated and needing to get a grip on this battle. Luckily, Noio came through with Hurricane again, slamming into Ariados and flipping the now-fainted Bug-type on its back.

I was just about to parse my next move on Grapploct when Mallory shouted. “Hyaaa!” she screamed, startled, and looking around. “Oh, I’m sorry, what…” She looked around. I noticed that her voice had changed timbres. “O… Oh, what has Mallory done now?” She waved her tentacle hands, which was odd since they joined to her hip and now her shoulders. “Come over here. I… I’m Bennie.”

Cautiously, I walked over. “I’m Monique. I came here to arrest Mallory.”

She nodded. “Every time I come to, I’m in these strange situations. She’s so bizarre. I’m barely around and this is ruining my life. …Our life.” I looked at her Pokémon, who had stopped, the psychic commands evidently ceasing.

I tilted my head, for the first time showing some sympathy. I placed a paw gently on the back of her neck, in substitution of a shoulder she didn’t have. “I want to work on this. We are going to manage this—” Suddenly, one of the tentacles smacked me hard in the side. I recoiled and looked at the Malamar hybrid, who glared at me.

“Hahaha! Prey easy!” Mallory had regained control, leaving me crestfallen. “Bennie toasts ‘em up, I butter ‘em!” she boasted in her backward way. Smarting from the thwacking, I stepped back, my speed hindered by the same Sticky Web that was intended to slow down Pokémon. Grapploct was moving toward me, readying a Brick Break. I tried to move out of the way in my mobility-impaired predicament, but it was for naught. A tentacle came across my left arm, and I could feel instantly that something was not right. I let out a primal yell, my faculties subordinate to the pain that throbbed. Noio, still flapping her wings, began to circle me protectively. I let my arm hang limply.

“Ugh-oh!!” Bennie had evidently gained control again. She looked at me, wondering what had happened, trying to come to grips with the situation that confronted her. She saw Grapploct and saw me clutching my arm. “Did it…” I could only muster a nod. “Oh no…” She looked crestfallen at my pained face. “Don’t tell me it broke something…”

The thought of asking for backup was alien to me. Not in this situation, I decided. Not with so much on the line. I looked at Bennie and Noio. “Get on the bird… And Noio, go down to the ground. I’ll… I’ll meet you there.” I had to act fast before Mallory took over. The much more pliant Bennie left the Grapploct behind and hopped aboard the Honchkrow, which took off into the chilly night, descending like a corkscrew as I did much the same in the stairs, moving gingerly and in fear of what happened to her arm. We reunited a moment later at the base, where I recalled Noio and summoned my Kleavor to walk alongside me and Bennie. Just as we made it inside the Cover of Spikemuth, Bennie flipped again, and Mallory emerged, stunned to not be in the lighthouse.

“One move the wrong way and you’ll be sliced,” I threatened her, still wincing in considerable pain. A gentle tap from Pahi’s rocky blade reinforced the threat as I radioed the Transport Police for an escort once I made my way down. She was tapped several more times as we made our way down inside the Metro. An officer (a Scrafty hybrid) awaited, shiny steel restraints unusually bright when everything was so unnaturally dim.

“Good work, ma’am,” he complimented me.

“I…” I stammered. “I need medical attention,” I explained, pointing to my arm.

He let out a long sigh. “Let’s see what we can do, but in the meantime, go wait in the station, my dear.” He shook his head, and I shook mine, for different reasons. Him calling me “my dear” creeped me out, and not in the Bug way.

***

I waited in the police station. Edwyn/Mimi had gone home, and the pain in my arm had only dulled by becoming familiar to me. Every wrong turn I made was excruciating. I found myself staring at anything and everything in a desperate attempt to distract myself from the thoughts raging in my head. I couldn’t even go heal and have Akala try and help me because, of course, I’d brought her to the battle, and Audino are not attackers.

Do I call it quits? Tell Robin I failed because I hurt my arm? Go back to Snagem and have a real doctor look at this? I looked around, wondering what I was doing down here. Sure, I could fit in with a bunch of Dark-type hybrids by process of type and appearance, but all of them were born into or like this. Their lives were different from mine just as devastated, barren Aether Island was from lush, untamed Poni. Except, ironically for a girl from a world where the Light of Alola had long since dimmed, my life was more touched by light than theirs, especially the ones who had done enough to be banned from the surface. I started crying. Is this my purpose, tapu? I looked around again.

There was a knock at the door. I turned abruptly, causing my arm to throb, and saw a most unexpected sight down here: a Hatterene hybrid, a woman who would tower over me if we were both standing. She was tall, imposing, beautiful—but not a Dark-type. “Hello,” she greeted me in a soft, lilting voice, setting down some sort of briefcase.

“Who… Who are you? And what are you doing here in all this darkness?” I asked, caught off guard.

“I… I’m sorry, miss. I should have introduced myself. Imogen Avon. Official Healer of the Spikemuth Metro.” She looked at me again. “Your arm is limp.”

I nodded. “...Hit by Brick Break.” I used my right arm to point to where my left had been hit.

She winced and placed one of her hands on the spot. “I can feel it is broken, miss. Of course, this will take a lot of energy and attention. Energy and attention I can provide. I do it in exchange for silence…” A sigh. “Blissful, blissful silence.”

“Huh? What does that—”

“You see, Hatterene like us hear voices,” she began in a thick Galarian accent. So, so many voices, and they are all psychic. Going down here under all this ebonite is like switching off the wireless. So quiet. So peaceful.”

“That’s interesting and all, but what does it mean for my arm?” I whined.

“I can do my work, but I need to be with you the whole time. And your arm needs to be put in a cast.” She opened up the case she had brought with her to reveal it was a first aid kit, getting quickly to work immobilizing my arm in preparation for a more Fairy-based remedy. Weakened and hurting, I sank into her embrace for a moment as she fastened a cast, pinning the arm to my body.

“I should take you back to my cave, madame. This will take too long.” Unable to protest and with her holding me, I followed her as she moved slowly out of the police station and followed her through several passageways carved into the increasingly familiar dark rock before reaching a door that she unlocked and opened.

Imogen had a small Electric Gem-powered lamp, so this was one of the few places that actually had a light source and not whatever unique vision all the ebonite gave you down here. There were just a few rooms, but her living room was surprisingly full of comfortable-looking furniture. She gestured toward a couch with a large footstool, gently setting me down on the sofa and sitting next to me with her hand on my broken arm. “You don’t know how hard it was to get stuff down here for myself,” she sighed. “Anyway, you really broke it. What happened?”

“Direct hit from a Brick Break to the arm. That’s my worst line-of-duty injury ever,” I grumbled.

“Well, to heal something like that, you’re going to have to spend a while here, and I’ll have to spend a while with you,” she explained. I yawned, the adrenaline-fueled rush of combat and the injury subsiding into continued pain.

“Mind holding me as I sleep?” My mind drifted. It was like the Sub Rosa days where occasionally I went back to a client's home and slept with her. Except a little less romantic because my arm was broken.

“...I don't object. You're the prettiest girl I've seen in some time,” she admitted.

With her hold soothing my injured arm, I laid on my back.

***

I tried to sleep, but the lack of any circadian rhythm from the sun made it a little tough, in spite of Imogen holding me and working on my broken arm. And my mind, perhaps aided by all the ebonite down here, was presenting me with more thoughts than there were dishes at Faba’s buffets, or so we heard.

Why did the tapu make me a Dark-type hybrid? I thought. My Pokémon history in my home world definitely did not fit that. I had a Komala, an Oricorio, and a Marowak. Normal, Ghost/Flying, Ghost/Fire. Would it not have been more fitting to be the other flavor of Zoroark, the one from Hisui?

But then I thought about why they existed and what animated them. The move said it all... Bitter Malice. They were possessed once and for all by their hatred. There were too many like that in the world. I even knew some in my own time. When the world was as terrible as mine, even the king comes to despise the mere act of existence. Bitter Malice. It’s what, in another form, animated Shadow Pokémon. What drove Cipher into existence and, eventually, into the history books I read as a little girl. Hatred was a normal human—and Pokémon—emotion. Bitter Malice was not.

The Metro was proof of something. Dark-types could be themselves without being evil. A society of all evil could not function like this. But the Metro had been around for decades, thriving where everyone else had decided there was nothing to be done. We could exist and be ourselves and fight for what's right and, occasionally, what's not.

In many ways, that was me already. Wastelands justice had to make its own way in the world. After all, laws weren't exactly written for a moment when every shred of civilization was confined to one island. Or for a moment where the sheriff was also a stripper. That was experience that was proving useful in Snagem. The whole “Crystal evading arrest” episode at the end of my Ultra Space journey showed me I wasn't alone in this reality.

Could I do that if I were consumed by Bitter Malice? Probably not.

***

Eight hours later, I heard a chiming sound in my ear. Groggily, I shifted, Imogen making sure I did not move too quickly and damage the recovering arm.

“Did you sleep well, Monique?” Her voice was comforting and reassuring.

“I… I did. I hope my arm is okay.”

“It will be, but it is going to be tender for a few days. There is a lot of chi in there right now, and it takes time to work.” She paused. “While you're getting a little oriented, may I interest you in a cuppa?”

“A what now?”

“A cup of tea. And no, not a cursed one.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are Pokémon made from spirit-infused tea,” she began. “Sinistea and Polteageist. They say some other regions have their own similar versions of them,” she explained. “They can drain you if you drink them…” Imogen shivered. “Though Sinistea taste terrible.” That last word spat out of her mouth like nasty, unsweetened tea, as if to say she’d had that experience firsthand. Given that she made them sound like Ghost-types, I could imagine just how bad that could be for a Hatterene.

“Well, at least there’s no likelihood of Pokémon in my tea here.”

“Alright then, let me get up…” For the first time in a while, I didn’t have Imogen holding and working into my broken arm because she was instead preparing tea. The arm was still sore, but apparently whatever she did was going to take its time and work. I pondered what was next and remembered what I was told. Now that I had captured Mallory/Bennie, I had to defend her at trial. I wondered how that would work as Imogen came back to me, bringing a pop-up tray and a saucer filled with dark-colored liquid and a small packet of sugar in case I wanted my tea sweeter, as well as a couple of biscuits. “Careful, Monique. It might still be a little warm.” I gently held the saucer in my unbroken arm, carefully smelling the aroma of the tea before taking just a small sip. It was indeed warm, and I felt lucky not to have ingested more or else I could have easily burned my tongue.

“This reminds me a bit of my sister, Kasumi. She liked tea. It was just a shame it was so hard to get,” I remarked after the first sip floated down my throat.

“How come?”

“Very, very long story. Things weren’t great where we were from.” I didn’t want to throw open my whole backstory to a Hatterene woman I’d barely met.

“...And where was that?”

“Alola.”

“You know, in Alola, they make really good coffee and they even serve it in their Pokémon Centers. Someday I should treat myself and buy some Ula‘ula beans,” she sighed. “I hear they’re heavenly.” I weakly nodded, though of course my own experience was more limited than she might have thought. The tea had a good flavor, though I did find myself going for a bit of sugar to sweeten it. “Hopefully that helps lift your spirits.” I nibbled on one of the biscuits, finding it to be okay if a bit dense.

Just as I finished the cup, there was a knock at the front door of Imogen’s cavern-room-house. I turned my head in confusion as Imogen walked over to open the door and reveal that it was Edwyn/Mimi who had knocked, even if I had to peer over some furniture to see her short frame. “Well, Miss Ka‘ana‘ana,” Edwyn began, “you better be all healed up cuz Judge Samson’s gonna run all over you.” She even delivered a smile. Total villain. “Are you ready to head back to the Transport Police?”

I looked at Imogen, who nodded. “Monique should be perfect in a few days, but she does need to move gingerly today.”

“Yes, yes,” Edwyn replied. “Well, she will have a little time today to prepare Mallory’s case, so that shouldn’t be so strenuous.”

“Alright. Well, I’m glad I could help, as always.”

“Yes, yes, Psychic one,” Edwyn added in her trademark sneer. “Monique, come with me.”

“Before I do… Thank you, Imogen.” I bowed politely, keeping the cast on and still trying not to move that arm awkwardly. “I appreciate it so much.”

“I did, too,” the Hatterene hybrid added in a tone that suggested it was not only a heartfelt remark but a just-ever-so-romantic one. “I wish you all the best. Do let me know how things go.”

With that, I was off to the Transport Police station again, Edwyn becoming Mimi midway through the trip as she ate. [Continues on the next post]