AN: Haha, this is one of my favorite chapters ever! It was sort of my comic relief from all the battling/dying/war stuff. It was so much fun to write and even funnier to read now that I'm older XD I'm glad I kept this! Hope you guys have just as much fun reading it as I did writing it! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or PMD: EoS.


The Abyss, present day

Giratina was very, very angry.

Everything had gone wrong all day. When he had woken up that evening, (he preferred night to day when he needed to do some serious work, since night was much quieter) his legs were numb because he had slept on them awkwardly. Because his legs were numb, he hadn't noticed that the huge chains that held him down had been cutting into him all night until he tried to shake the numbness off. Then, with a wince and a curse, he felt the full force of it and it felt like he'd been sleeping on a bed of knives.

Giratina had bandaged himself up after he had accidentally cleaned the wounds with acid, which had stung like crazy (thankfully, it was only a few drops and it didn't have any long-term effects). Then when that was finally settled, he had waited for a breakfast that never came.

His stomach growling like an angry Mightyena, Giratina went to the kitchen to yell at the cooks only to discover that they had all quit last afternoon out of fear.

So Giratina had fumbled through the cooking process himself. Blood had kept dripping from the bandages and landing on his eggs, soaking them and turning them bright red. The toast turned to cinders, the dish towel caught fire, the stove exploded and, while he had been trying to put out the fire, Giratina had accidentally left the refrigerator open and spoiled all the food.

Pressing an ice pack to his terribly burned face, Giratina crunched on rock-flavored toast smeared with cement butter and choked on his bloody eggs. He looked around the charred kitchen, once tan, now black, and promised himself that's he'd never cook again, not even PB & J.

Afterwards, he was climbing the stairs to his study when the chains snagged on a step. Giratina had winced and cursed when the chains had jarred his injured legs. He had struggled to free himself, crying out whenever the attempt had caused pain to shoot up his claws. Finally, after much pain, he managed to twist around in an extremely awkward position and free the chain.

Giratina had thought that it couldn't get any worse, but he had been wrong. Upon entering his study, Giratina saw that all his papers were missing from their usual pile on the desk.

Exploding with anger, he remembered that the chambermaid, Chansey, had cleaned his study the other day, putting the papers who knows where. With a frustrated roar, he had tramped all the way back down the stairs to fire her, only to remember that Chansey had quit along with the kitchen helpers. Then he tramped all the way back up the stairs to search the study. After an hour and a half of searching, he remembered that Chansey had gone to the kitchen several times while cleaning. So he tramped back down the stairs to check the kitchen, searched there for an hour with no results, then tramped back up the stairs to search again.

He finally gave up with a loud thump, ready to tear apart anyone or anything that walked in his door. The desk drawers, which were broken, rattled open with the impact of Giratina's thump. Annoyed, Giratina went to slam them shut when he saw the papers, sitting innocently in the drawer.

After raging for a while, Giratina finally calmed down and got to work. Now he was done, sitting in his study, lying back and thinking over the events of his horrible day.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Giratina snapped.

A Smeargle opened the door and bowed deeply under Giratina's hot glare.

"You have two visitors here to see you, my lord," the Smeargle said, head bowed.

"Send them in."

The Smeargle bowed even deeper. "Yes, my lord," he said from the floor, then moved towards the door.

"Wait!"

The Smeargle stopped, sweat appearing on his brow. "Y-yes?"

"Are the outside the door?"

The Smeargle nodded.

"Good," Giratina said. If they were outside the door, then he could call them in himself. He didn't need the Smeargle anymore.

"Come in!"

Two dark shadows swept into the room, soundlessly closing the door behind them. One of them Giratina recognized as Darkrai, a fellow enemy of Dialga and Palkia. The other shadow was unfamiliar, and Giratina eyed him curiously.

"Darkrai," Giratina said with a slight dip of his head. Darkrai returned the gesture.

Formalities over, Giratina asked, "What are you doing here?"

As Darkrai began to speak, the second shadow stepped back, silent.

"We heard you have started a war," Darkrai said dryly, his eyes glancing at the Smeargle's dead body. "We're here to help."

"Really?" Giratina said, interested. "And why would you want to help me?"

"Because we have a common enemy."

Giratina leaned forward. "And who might that be?"

"Dialga."

Giratina scowled at the name. "You're right about that," he agreed. "But why should I accept your offer? I have confidence that I can destroy them easily. I don't need your help, and you will undoubtedly want something from me for your assistance . . . payment, perhaps?" He looked to Darkrai for confirmation. It was obvious that he was the leader here, not the other Pokemon.

Darkrai smiled. "All I want is the world you'll leave behind."

Giratina nodded. He could understand that. But there was still one thing . . .

"You haven't answered my other question. Why do I need you?"

Darkrai smiled briefly. "Ah, yes. Those chains that bind you . . . they aren't ordinary chains, are they?"

Giratina shook his head, impressed. Not many knew about the mental chains that kept him in check. They were made from a very special metal called mental ore. Mental ore was very rare indeed, and appropriately named. Once you were bound by mental ore, they followed you everywhere you went, mentally and physically. If you were touching any king of mental ore while daydreaming about yourself, no matter what you imagined you were always in chains. In every dream you had, you were in the chains.

Dialga had taken some of the rare metal and molded them into chains for Giratina, to keep him in check even while he was in his alternate dimension. Unfortunately for Giratina, they worked very well and he could only visit his world for short spurts of time, and even then he was limited to very simple actions, such as speaking or moving. But speaking and moving were enough to issue the order for war.

"What about them?" Giratina asked Darkrai.

"I can release you from them," Darkrai said mildly.

Giratina's surprise showed clearly on his face. "You?" he sputtered. "I have been trying for over three hundred years to get rid of these chains! Even with my powers, I couldn't come close to simply denting them! What makes you think that you can just walk in here and release me, as easy as that?"

"I know the antidote."

Giratina searched Darkrai's face for any signs that he might actually know the antidote, but it remained impassive. Giratina, not sure whether or not Darkrai was lying, decided to bluff his way out.

"I don't need your help, chains or not. I can pull off this war without actually being there."

Darkrai smiled. "You may not need to be there, but you'll definitely want to be. I couldn't imagine storing up three hundred years of hatred only to not kill Dialga yourself, or even see his death, or even hear the true story. Oh, you'll hear rumors, but that's all they'll be. Nobody will ever really be able to tell you the whole truth. Besides, once the war is over, nothing will change for you. You'll still be locked up, trapped in this prison."

Giratina nodded thoughtfully. Darkrai was offering him freedom and revenge in exchange for a world he didn't even want. It was a good deal. Only a fool wouldn't accept the offer. Giratina nodded again, coming to a decision. He was no fool.

"You've got a deal," he said.

Darkrai smiled. "Yes," he said simply, but his tone left no doubt that he had known what Giratina would decide the whole time.

"So, what's the cure?" Giratina said it mildly, but he was inwardly excited.

"Wait," Darkrai said. "I need to be sure that you'll uphold your end of the deal once you're free. I need a promise."

Giratina waved his claw dismissively, certain that he could provide whatever it. "What do you want?"

"I just need you to sign this contract stating that you will keep your word." Darkrai nodded to the second shadow. Giratina watched with keen interest as the Pokemon returned the nod and stepped forward, paper in hand, and set the contract on the desk.

Giratina scanned it over. It was an average contract and it seemed legal enough. He wasn't surprised to see that Darkrai and his companion had already signed it, Darkrai as the other holder of the deal and the companion - Dusknoir, the signature said - as a witness. Giratina signed on the bottom with rather messy handwriting, a curse, and a few blood splashes. Then he trust it out to Darkrai wordlessly.

Darkrai took it, nodding as he checked it. He raised an eyebrow. "Bad day?" he asked.

"The worst," Giratina grumped.


Lol! Still my favorite by far XD Please review if I got you to laugh! ^^