Chapter 49: Special Episode: Failure: Part 1

The doors to the library closed behind Espeon as he escorted Weavile in from the gray morning. They both looked weary, but for different reasons. Espeon was tired and bruised with a handprint burned into his skin, and Weavile was merely stumbling in behind him, holding onto his tail like a leash. Her eyes were barely open, and her other arm hung limp by her side. She almost looked drunk.

The sound of the doors shook the desk clerk from her slumber, and Glaceon yelped as she turned to face the door. "Wha— who's there?! Who—"

"It's me." The plates in the ceiling gradually lit up to cast a dim light over Espeon and Weavile. He swept his gaze across the room. "And good. You at least haven't frozen anything on your own."

"You!" Glaceon exclaimed, ignoring his sass. "Y-you said you'd be right back by sunset, and it's been..."

"It's dawn," Espeon answered.

"Dawn!" she exclaimed. "You've been gone an entire day! What happened? And is that the boss? What the hell is up with her? She looks like she's on drugs!"

Weavile's half-lidded eyes raised to meet her accusation. "Fuck you," she mumbled. Never before had those words been said with such little spirit or conviction.

Rolling his eyes behind cracked glasses, Espeon stepped between the Ice-types. "She's had a long night," he said. "I'm bringing her up to my cot to sleep. Don't go up there."

Glaceon recoiled a little, holding her tongue before she huffed. "Door's locked anyways."

A pause. An invisible hand adjusted his glasses as Espeon looked her over briefly. So she tested the door, did she?

"I'm closing the library," he said. Though Glaceon performed a double-take, he continued onwards regardless. "Just pass a message along for me, will you? Send for some of the Circus performers. And…" He debated on Murkrow for a moment, wondering just what the poor bird would do for her. No good, he surmised. "... And that will be all."

Glaceon blinked. "Excuse me?" She hopped over the counter and followed after them, giving a brief pitied look to the sedated Weavile. "You're closing? Is something going on?"

"That will be all," Espeon repeated, making his way towards a spiral staircase. "You can go home afterwards. I'll contact you when I need you."

"Wh— hey!" Glaceon stamped her paw on the floor. "I'm supposed to work with you! We work Intelligence! You can't—"

"Get used to it," Espeon said back to her, and Glaceon froze in her tracks. He made his way up the first circle of stairs before staring down at her through the banister. "Welcome to Intelligence. Your superiors never tell you enough, and your subordinates yell at you for it. Now go. Home."

Espeon's purple eyes drilled holes into Glaceon. The gem on his forehead glistened as she faltered and took a step back. This was his domain. The wounds meant nothing. If she didn't leave willingly, she'd be blasted out a window, if she was lucky.

And with his point made, he continued up the stairs, escorting Weavile with him. After a moment, the doors to the library opened and shut in a hurry. Espeon let out a sigh. "She won't make it," he said. "Too curious. Doesn't know when to be quiet."

Weavile nodded. "Your sister is mean."

Espeon blinked, then looked back at her. When her dazed expression didn't give way to drunken laughter, he nodded. "Right. She is."

A hatch at the top of the stairs opened to a dim room that hadn't been cleaned in some time. Three different desks stood next to each other against one of the walls, and while two seemed untouched and dusty, the third had a neat-ish stack of pages next to a loose pile of crumpled sheets. A few doors stood on the other walls, labeled 'Guest room,' 'Pantry,' and 'Roof.' A loft led up to a rounded window, and beneath it sat a soft cat's bed that had strands of purple fur stuck to the bedding.

That last thing made Weavile stare, blinking and rubbing at her eyes. "You… You have a bed?"

"Indeed," he answered. "I use it for sleeping."

"... Huh." She tilted her head. "I always thought you just like… turned off. Or something."

Espeon slowed down a little as he looked back at her, alarmed. Just how sedated was she? "No," he said tentatively. The hatch dropped shut. "I haven't done that for a while."

With her grip still loose on the forked end of his tail, Espeon led her to the far wall, towards the heavy locked 'guest room' door. He smirked inwardly. 'Guest room.' As if he'd actually bring anyone over. The last time had been with Alice near the turn of spring.

"Do you remember anything else?" he asked.

After a long pause, Weavile gave her answer. "The keyhole is fake."

"I'll be damned." Espeon's gem flickered. Mechanisms inside the lock shifted and turned, clicked into place, turned again, solving an invisible puzzle inside the metal. "What else?"

"I remember…" Her dimmed eyes started to come to life a little bit, her head turning to one of the dusty desks, the empty walls, the pantry. "... Joker…" Quiet, barely more than a whisper. Her claws tensed around Espeon's tail.

"... Mm."

The guest room door clicked open and the door opened into a dark room lit only by a beam of gray morning light from the ceiling. Dust motes stirred in the air like a startled school of Wishiwashi. In the dim light he could see several tarps and sheets hanging over unusual silhouettes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, leading her into the dark room.

Something caught in her throat. "... Empty," Weavile admitted, shivering. "I don't... think he's coming back."

His pace slowed. For a moment, his eyes fell to the floor, but he drew in a deep breath as he forced himself to focus, his paws to remain steady. There was still Weavile. There was still Alice.

"... There was something in this room he liked," Espeon said, raising his gaze to a strange shape on the far wall with a sheet draped over it. "A lot of things, actually, but this one… If I didn't have this, I don't think he would have rushed to pick up an instrument."

"The music horn?" she mused. A moment later, an invisible hand pulled the sheet away, and in the gray light, a sparkle of gold had her in a trance as she stared. "The record player," she whispered.

"Right." His tail pulled gently out of her grip as he led her onto the couch. Behind him, the door drifted and locked shut. "Have a seat. I'll put something on."

Beneath the record player sat a dusty crate of cardboard sleeves, and that same invisible hand started rifling through them one by one. Espeon craned his neck to peer inside. The images were varied and otherworldly, and the creatures on it stark and surreal. Eventually he settled on one with four human figures crossing a street, and from within the sleeve he pulled out a black vinyl disc. It fell gently into place, the needle was set, and then…

Espeon glanced over his shoulder. Weavile, as if on reflex alone, had climbed and laid down on the couch, resting there with her paws on her stomach. She stared up into the skylight, seeing something that probably wasn't there.

Nodding, Espeon turned to a desk on a wall, biting down on the cloth and gently pulling it away. Monitors and keyboards veiled in dust slept beneath it, wires bundled beneath the desk and disappearing into the wall. And right next to it, a black box with a faded red switch. "Now," he said, raising a paw over the switch, "let's hope they're on…"

The switch clicked. Something whirred inside the box. Icons lit up on plastic boxes under the table, on the edge of the monitor, the side of the keyboard. The record player started making noises as the music started up. A single fluorescent light bulb flickered and hummed as a pale light bathed over the room.

From the golden horn came the slow, melancholic sound of guitars as the computers loaded up. Hopping onto a stool, Espeon glanced over his shoulder, curious to see how the sedatives were holding up. And she was frozen. As the singers started harmonizing, Weavile's eyes went wide as she stared up at nothing.

… No. Espeon knew that wasn't right. She was staring at something. He just couldn't see it. Something about the human voices always did that to her. Music especially had that sort of power.

The screen blinked on, and Espeon stared at a blank blue background. A single login box waited for him, cursor flashing, with a single word written above it in latin lettering: Phantom. Espeon stood up on his hind paws and started tapping gracelessly away at the keyboard.

lyuhJGjuygHK01#f

With one gentle tap, he hit enter, and the password was accepted, and the screen started loading again. Espeon found himself idly singing along to the music, as was Weavile under her breath.

"Because the wind is high, it blows my mind… Because the wind is high…. Aaaaahhhhh, Love is old, love is new…"

A black background with a few file icons peppered about awaited Espeon. In the corner of the screen sat a date and time that he had long since disregarded: 23:47 18/03/2048. The internal clock was inconsistent, and he didn't need it. His paw fumbled with the mouse to select the icon labeled 'Travelers.'

"Love is all, love is you…"

It opened up to where he'd last been, making a minimal file simply titled The Unknowns. It only had two entries.

Markus Vicario. Caucasian male in his 30's. San Francisco? Prone to paranoia. Violent. Possesses cavalry saber and KA-BAR. Possible Marine, possible gun nut. Managed to evade capture and is presumably making way back to Riley. Will continue scrying.

Festuum "The Carnival," Greninja. Thief. Accessory to Markus. Unknown methods. Unknown motives. Why is he doing this?

Espeon gave an irritated huff before he clicked back. He didn't like to think about the unknowns, especially after meeting that one in person. His chest still stung.

Five folders sat in front of him: Attempts, Travelers, Staff, Stars, Unknown. The cursor went to the first one and selected it, opening up a list of several more: Elfreide, Jasmine, Alexander, Mergo, Hipolito, Alice, Amber. He clicked on Alice's folder.

Behind him, Weavile's singing grew louder, sorrowful, losing herself in the music as she harmonized with the men from the cardboard sleeve. Or was that Alice? The line was blurry, and with the sedatives it was like looking at it underwater.

For a moment, Espeon furrowed his brow as he felt a twinge in his chest. They had been this close, and then Bisharp had to do what he did. And now, Espeon had to… well, figure something out. Anything. For Alice.

He glanced back to the screen, now greeted by a text file that hadn't been opened in months. And he was greeted by text so familiar by now that he could recite it in his sleep. Pages and pages and pages of notes.

Alice Desdemona - Adolescent, Female

Sneasel, Female

Arrival: 17/03/2011 - 13th of Darkrai, 894th cycle

Attempt made to obtain Null Star. Shot was successful, but behavior is irregular compared to other travelers. Details to follow.

Apparent status: Failure.

…

Even before Espeon had first seen Alice, something in his gut told him she would be nothing but trouble. After his briefing his hopes were already low, and the weather didn't exactly foster optimism. A heavy, cold rain turned the ground into mud, and white mist made it hard to see. And it was just after dawn. They couldn't do this at a reasonable hour?

Just a few more seconds. She'd been there nearly eight minutes. Panic was probably setting in right about now. The closest Mystery Dungeon was over six miles from here, and the closest traveled path over twice that. Nobody else would be there to save her. It was just her and the predators.

And of course, Espeon, once he decided it was time to warp. For now he just waited on the edge of the forest, mud in his fur, wondering just how much longer he should risk it. Sneasel were predators, but there were bigger predators out there. Meaner ones. And especially if she were suddenly sapient, they would kill her.

"... Right." Espeon stretched and stood up, shaking most of the water out of his fur. When he got home, he was taking a hot bath for sure. He raised his forked tail and waved it in a circle, teleporting away.

And then, he saw Alice for the first time. A Sneasel, ratty and soaked and shivering, gracelessly running on unfamiliar legs. She barely seemed to register him as she ran past, wheezing with tears frozen to her face. She was going to die. It was a sad fact that the estimated lifespan of a human was measured in minutes, and this was usually why.

"Go away, go away!" she shrieked, tripping through the bushes as the Ursaring steadily caught up to her.

Sighing, Espeon warped between them, his legs veiled in a dark purple as he kicked at the Ursaring's right leg. The beast let out a startled cry and flailed its arms about before landing face-first in the mud. He knew equipping Foul Play had been a good idea.

"Please stay down," Espeon requested, then turned towards Alice, who was still running in a deaf panic.

"Goawaygoawaygoaway!" She pushed a branch out of her way and ducked underneath it, but as it swung back it swept through her feather crest. She let out a frightened, bestial yelp as she jumped a good six feet into the air.

"Excuse me," Espeon called, suddenly closer.

Once again, the Sneasel jumped as she turned around, but where she expected to see the towering bear instead sat the strange feline, his tail swishing in the air. She brandished her fangs as she started backing away. "G… g-go…"

Espeon rolled his eyes. "Relax," he said, "I'm here as a friend. Are you hurt? Hungry?" Without waiting for an answer, an invisible hand reached into his bag and tossed an apple in her direction. The sight of fresh food dispelled her snarl, and she caught it and started to sniff at it.

"Mmnnngh…" She raised a sharp claw and sliced into it, and upon seeing the ripe flesh, stared intently at Espeon before taking a greedy first bite.

Espeon smiled, if only a little. Like a stray cat… "Do you know what you're doing out here?"

She shook her head.

"I see. Do you remember where you came from?"

Her head turned somewhere to the north, vaguely in the direction of her den. But then, her face changed as her gaze settled on something behind him. Her paws started shaking. The half-eaten apple fell into the mud. Curious, Espeon raised a brow and looked over his shoulder.

The Ursaring stood once again, its entire front covered in dripping mud. Espeon could almost see its veins bulging. It was still after them? Not even hesitant? It should have known better than to march towards its own demise. Servants of the Mystery Dungeons shouldn't have been straying this far out.

Grumbling, Espeon turned fully to face it. "What did you do to provoke this thing?" It looked at him more out of irritation than malice, like Espeon was just an obstacle, so focused was it on the Sneasel.

She stumbled back a few steps. "I… I w-was hungry," she said shakily. "And I saw… an-an egg, and I… took it."

Espeon blinked. Did… Did he hear that right? That was her first instinct? An egg? What… He swallowed. "So, you ate it."

"N-no." Another few steps. "She jumped out as I grabbed it, and I… got scared. Dropped it." Confused, conflicted, paws tensing and untensing, tensing and untensing. Her breath was quick and haggard.

"... Were you going to?"

"I… was."

He furrowed his brow. This was going to be an unusual case, wasn't it? Violent tendencies weren't unusual, especially with bodies like these, but that? They usually at least hesitated.

One thing at a time. Exhaling, Espeon stared over at the Ursaring, deciding to finish this quickly and make a show to Alice. A pinetree groaned and shivered as it was pulled from the soil, dripping mud from the tangled ball of roots. An instant later it was swung down atop the Ursaring from behind like a mallet. The beast spun in surprise and attempted to stop it, but the weight was too much. It crumpled under the weight and sank halfway into the mud. Something popped.

Sneasel shrieked, and Espeon winced as a headache split his skull in two. He knew better than to overexert himself like that.

"Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "She— she's fucking dead! Holy shit! Holy—"

"Quiet," Espeon growled, drawing in a deep breath as he tried to focus away from his headache. He already had a nosebleed. "Something tells me you're going to continue being a thorn in my side." Then with a swish of his tail, he started strolling away into the woods. "Come. Let's get you out of here."

Shaking, Sneasel gathered herself. "G-go wh—" She'd started running, but remembered the apple and dipped down to snatch it, "where? Is there a village nearby?"

"There's a house a ways from here," he answered. "We'll take you there while I get you acclimated. And once you have the rundown, the do's and don'ts, we can get you brought into society."

She cocked her head. "... Brought into society?" she whispered.

"You're a human," he said. "If that gets out, they'll kill you and burn the body." He was practically on autopilot at this point, guiding her through the usual conversation as he took mental notes. There were a hundred questions he was prepared to answer or deflect. 'Why would they do that?' 'What is this place?' 'Why are you helping me?' 'Who are you?' 'Who am I?' And yet, there was one that somehow managed to catch him by surprise.

"... I'm a what?"

Espeon slowed down, taking two steps before stopping and turning around to face her. They both shared a look of genuine confusion, but there was something underneath hers: fear. Her paws were trembling.

"A… A human," he repeated. "Tall, fleshy, hairless, frail…"

Sneasel shook her head. "N… N-no, I'm not," she insisted. "I'm… I'm not. I'm not!"

Espeon faltered. The gem on his forehead gleamed. This was Alice, wasn't it? Not some other kid out here on their own? Or heavens forbid, a complete coincidence? If a feral turned minutes before Alice was supposed to be here…

"You… You are Alice, right?" he asked cautiously.

Sneasel's breathing hitched. She took a few staggered paces back as her trembling paws raised to clutch at her head. Her eyes stared at something that wasn't there, something that should have been there

"... Al… Alice," she rasped. Confusion, fear, paranoia. Her claws dragged down the side of her head, tearing gashes through her fur as she started to shriek. "What am I doing here?!"

"What the fuck?" Espeon took two hurried steps closer to her. "Stop— stop that! What are you doing?!"

She didn't stop. Her claws tore away more as she screamed louder, frothing at the mouth. Blood was pouring out, dripping into the mud in gobs. The light rain was suddenly whipped around in a violent wind, throwing it into their faces. Leaves flailed on the ends of their branches. Above them, the sky coalesced into a deep gray.

A chill ran up his spine as the mud beneath Espeon's paws quivered. The earth itself shifted. Something stirred. He knew this feeling...

"I shouldn't be here!" Her claws scratched again as she suppressed a scream, and amidst the dark fur and the blood, there was the white of bone. The wind grew stronger. Leaves were yanked and carried away like a startled flock of birds. The tree that sat over the crushed Ursaring teetered back and forth.

Thorn in my side, Espeon thought to himself.

His tail swished in a circle as he jumped forward. He teleported directly in front of Alice, tackling her and pinning her arms to the ground. With a startled gasp, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Fear, confusion, primal contempt, human desperation. She sucked in breath, and Espeon didn't know whether she would attack him or plead with him.

His gem gleamed, and a bright flash of light overtook her. The forest around her turned still.

...

Subject had to be sedated after two minutes.

Behavior was irregular from the beginning when she attempted to steal an egg and provoked its mother. This must've happened within the first six minutes of being here. Additionally, when asked where she came from, the subject pointed in the direction of her nest. Somehow she was in possession of knowledge and behaviors that should have been overwritten.

When informed of her true name and origin, the subject experienced a severe nervous breakdown and engaged in self-harm. Wounds were severe and had to subsequently be treated. The weather started to change on top of that as winds started picking up, and the ground shifted.

Sedation still worked, regardless of what was happening. There is still a silver lining. I expect her to wake peacefully tomorrow without remembering what happened.

With all that said, what the fuck did you do to her? What went wrong, and how the hell do we fix this?

Standing by for further instruction.

—Phantom

…

"Did you sleep well?"

A groggy Sneasel fell out of the covers, rubbing at her eyes as she gracelessly stumbled towards the kitchen table. It was a small cabin, just one open room with a kitchen that led into a simple living room. A few shelves were lined with books (because of course they were) against the walls, and some potted plants sat on the windowsills added a nice bit of extra color. A few dusty sketches and portraits sat in old frames atop side tables.

"Mmnnngh…" Her weary gaze scanned around the sparse room, eyeing the frames for a moment before something else distracted her.

Sneasel raised her head and sniffed at the air. Rich coffee, something sweet, something savory. Her head turned towards a small kitchen table, where Espeon sat on a chair with a plate of buttered toast and Rawst slices. An open mystery novel sat a safe distance away from the food.

"Would you like something to eat?" Espeon offered. "I have fruit in the cold chest if you'd like some. Or I can fry you some toast." An invisible hand lifted a mug of black coffee to his maw, where he carefully lapped up a bit, then set it down again.

"Who are you?" she asked accusingly.

Straight into things, like they were picking up right where they left off yesterday. "Just call me Espeon," he said. "I don't think I introduced myself earlier, did I? Do you remember when I found you?"

Sneasel raised a brow as her claws twitched. "Found me? Found me where?"

"Out in the woods. You were being chased by an Ursaring." A pause, another sip of his coffee. "... What do you remember? That might be easier."

She looked around the room once again, looking out the windows and towards the two doors, then continued to eye up Espeon. The caution was still there, but something else now stood beside it. "... It was raining," she said. "And I was hungry. I was away from the nest, and then… Then I was here."

"... Mm." Another sip. "You don't remember the Ursaring? Or, much of anything before that?"

Sneasel shook her head. "Too fuzzy."

"... Oh. A shame." It wasn't. "I'm sorry to hear that." He was nothing but relieved. "Though maybe it's for the best, given what you are."

"... What I am," Sneasel echoed.

Espeon nodded. "Yes," he said. "You're a Wild. You don't tend to live the best lives."

She blinked. "... I'm what?"

"A Wild Pokémon. It's clear to me, since you need to clear out your ears," he retorted, then took another sip of coffee as she glowered at him. "And the state of your fur. It's filthy. Your skin is loose. And your memories are fuzzy. Wild."

She growled as she rasped her claws together defensively. "Yeah? Then what the hell are you?"

"Civilized," he answered. "And so are you, now. Welcome to the club." Sneasel furrowed her brow, and Espeon rolled his eyes. "Alright, just… Have a seat. I'll run you through this."

Sneasel took a step and a half forward before her caution took hold again, and she stared a hole into the middle of Espeon's face. "Why should I trust you?" she asked accusingly.

A shrug. "You don't have to," he said, then nodded in the direction of the front door. "It's unlocked. You can take something to eat and head on out, if you'd like." The mug lifted again as Espeon lapped up a bit more of the coffee.

Sneasel stared cautiously at him, then to the door, then back to him again, then finally settled on the plate of food. As the mug came down, she let out a defeated sigh. "... Do you have any meat?" Sneasel asked.

"Some cold stuff. It's in the ice chest." His tail swished in the direction of a gray stone chest with a layer of condensation all over the side. The same invisible hand struggled to pull the lid away just enough to see inside. A few glass bottles rested at the very bottom just beside a closed cardboard tub. And then, atop a stack of covered bowls and slabs wrapped in leaves, several loose slices of thin red meat called to her. Sneasel started to salivate. "It's still cold, but I don't think that'd bother an Ice-type, right?"

"R… Right." She nodded, listening to her stomach and making her way towards the chest. She pulled out a loose handful in her claws and sniffed at it.

Hopefully, Espeon thought, she would recognize it on some level. That Pachirisu had been from her own forest after all, and even if it was cooked a little, the pure, gamey flavor should still prevail.

And sure enough, when she took a bite, Sneasel nodded approval as she looked over Espeon. Wordlessly she made her decision and took her seat at the other end of the table. The meat slapped onto the table as she started to pick through it. Manners, he decided, could wait for later.

"Anyways, yeah. You're a Wildie. There's a hard line between the typical civilized Pokémon and the Wildies, but sometimes, that line can be crossed," Espeon explained. "Nobody quite knows how. The ex-ferals only talk about some sort of voice. You were talking about one when I found you yesterday, remember?"

Sneasel raised an eyebrow. "I did?"

A shrug. "That's what you said," Espeon lied. "You told me you heard something wish you good luck before you left the nest."

Her face scrunched up as she searched through her fuzzy memories. By the hint of panic in her eyes, it was clear that there weren't much left, feral or human. That was good. At least something went right. With an empty mind, she should form some fake memories of that supposed voice, which would make this smoother initially. Hopefully it wouldn't drag on too long.

"... So you don't," he said quietly, and took yet another sip. His coffee was getting lukewarm. "We have a lot of work to do now, don't we?"

...

Education has been difficult with her. She had no inherent reading ability and needed to be taught from the ground up. Subject had no interest in learning to read, but on day 19 (32nd of Darkrai), she was finally able to write on her own without copying. Even if it was used to tell me to commit anatomically impossible acts.

Progress might've been quicker if I hadn't sedated her twice more (16th and 25th). That unstable state of mind seems to activate whenever she's reminded of her humanity. I wish I could study her more, but that would risk her own well-being. It was horrific enough the first time. The furthest went was asking the subject if she wished to have a name, but she gave it some thought and answered that she didn't need one. Subject is henceforth referred to as Sneasel.

While it should be easier for integration, that issue comes with its own share of concerns. Subject still has Wild tendencies that are difficult to be rid of. She has only recently learned to groom herself. And she has a tendency to go after raw meat in her meals, though she'll settle for rare red meats. Weaning does not work. When I gave her no meat, she took the first opening to go outside and hunt for herself.

It is doubtful that she can be brought into public unless something changes. Even if we tell somebody that she's a former Wildie, somebody like Gallade will see right through that and know what's up. If we don't find a way to normalize her, she'll be stuck here.

Send me Vengarl's file. There have to be answers somewhere in this.

—Phantom

…

A dreary gray sky hung over them that autumn afternoon. Breath hung in the chilly air, cold enough that Espeon had a cyan scarf bundled around his neck. And got his glasses all foggy. He grumbled to himself, curled up in a small cushion on the porch with a laptop opened in front of him. Espeon did not like the cold all that much, but at least Sneasel didn't mind.

It was a good time to be an Ice-type, and Espeon suspected that's what kept her studying today. She was turning through the pages of a bestiary, currently reading more about her own species, at a believable rate. And while she wasn't exactly enraptured, Sneasel certainly could have been less interested. Maybe it helped that she got to lay out in the yard, too.

Espeon gave the occasional glance before returning his focus to his laptop, hidden behind a great tome. He clumsily typed with his paws into a chat room with only one message, just over two hours old.

[Shepherd]: How is Null Star?

After taking a deep breath and carefully considering his answer, Espeon hit send.

[Phantom]: I don't know if we can call her that.

He pushed the laptop aside and peered at the tome. It would be a few minutes before—

[Shepherd]: Excuse me?

Espeon raised a brow. That quickly? Was he—

[Shepherd]: Don't be vague with me. What's going on?

"Shit," he muttered, then started typing away as fast as his paws could accurately manage. Sneasel raised her head to look up at him.

[Phantom]: I don't know what went wrong with her. It's up in the air whether she is even a Null Star at this point.

[Phantom]: You've read my reports.

[Phantom]: I don't even think I'm talking to Alice most of the time.

"You're making faces," Sneasel called to him, propping herself up on one knee to look just over the book. "What's up?"

"Spelling errors," he answered. "I swear, it's like you wrote this."

She furrowed her brow. "Fuck you too," Sneasel spat, then huffed and went back to her own book.

[Shepherd]: Most of the time?

[Shepherd]: Multiple personalities?

Espeon paused for a moment. He peered over at Sneasel as he carefully considered the options. He already knew it wasn't Dissociative Identity Disorder, and over the past month he hadn't seen any drastic changes in behavior. The closest thing to that were her episodes when she was reminded of her humanity. She didn't talk in her sleep, or have random fits of any human language, or anything that might indicate that part of her was locked away.

But at the same time, this was not Alice. There were too many things that stuck out. They might not be separate, but they were certainly different. And if it wasn't Alice, it had to be something else.

[Phantom]: Not that, but she's not like the others. Can't find anything like it. Best guess is a case akin to Vengarl.

[Shepherd]: The vagrant Nidoking? Really?

[Phantom]: Yeah.

[Shepherd]: Your best lead is a virtually blank file?

Espeon stared blankly at the screen. This, he could tell, was going to be an uphill battle. He huffed and pulled the scarf a little tighter with his paw before leaning in closer to the screen, tapping away at the keyboard.

[Phantom]: There's a lot about that case that we don't know. Since the original observations didn't survive, there's a huge blank spot here.

[Phantom]: There's similarities that we can at least explore. Remember the storm in my report?

[Shepherd]: So what?

[Phantom]: So we need to be careful with her. She could end up as some jibbering monster if we go too fast. That's where I draw the line.

The cursor blinked as Espeon sat there, staring at the screen at the seconds crawled by. He had to wonder what kind of face Shepherd was making. Was he chewing on his nails, illuminated in a dark room by the pale light of the monitor? Was he banging a fist against the desk? Espeon couldn't imagine Shepherd taking that one well.

After maybe twenty seconds or so, Espeon stood up and arched his back, opting to stroll over to Sneasel, who was kicking her legs in the air.

She shifted a wary eye to him but otherwise didn't object. The current pages showed close-ups of Sneasel claws surrounded by dense paragraphs. Her brow was furrowed in frustration.

"How much of that can you even comprehend?" he inquired.

She scoffed. "Enough."

"Then what're you reading about?"

To his surprise, Sneasel actually tapped one of the lines of text on the book. "It says that I can make ice claws."

He frowned. "... No. No, it doesn't."

"Oh yeah? Then what's this part here?" She cleared her throat and started reading. Espeon braced himself. This was always an agonizingly slow process. "'Body heat is drawn in… inward towards the torso, leaf… leaving the ep… epi… ehh—'"

"Epidermis," Espeon said. "The outermost layer of skin."

"I knew that," Sneasel lied, then returned to the page. "'Leaving the epic derniss naturally cold to the touch. When they hunt, they draw in… in even more heat, and their cla… claws freeze to the touch.'" She smiled proudly up at an unamused Espeon. "Ice claws."

"Nnnnno." Espeon shook his head. "Those're different things. That's a natural process to make the claws more dangerous when they cut through somebody." Luckily, in this part of Arushar, he'd only have to worry about that in the winter. "You're thinking of something akin to bladeshaping."

"Blade…?"

"Bladeshaping. Moves that conjure materials that can be shaped into weapons," he said. "They'd be techniques like Leaf Blade, or Night Slash. And they aren't simple maneuvers that someone like you could pull off."

She snorted. "Oh yeah?" Sneasel challenged, standing up fully to stare him down. The gem on his forehead gleamed in the sunlight. "I bet you I'd learn it in no time. I bet I'd fill you full of icicles."

Espeon huffed. That was actually a valid concern, whether or not Sneasel knew it.

"Tell you what," he said. "I've been meaning to give you a test anyways. When you can pass it, I'll take you to somebody. I know someone who can give you some pointers."

Her ears perked and tailfeathers stiffened. "... Somebody else?" she asked, almost hesitant, as if her excitement might scare it away. "You mean I can… I can leave?"

"For a little while," he answered. "And if you behave yourself, we might even be able to make it a regular thing. How does that sound?"

He'd have to do this soon anyways. Sneasel had already snuck out a number of times into the woods, so it was a matter of time before she tried to make for a nearby village. And who knew what she could do unsupervised? Would her feral instincts kick in? Steal another egg?

For a moment, her eyes lit up, and Sneasel looked ready to jump at the opportunity. She nodded eagerly, wiping her mouth to hide her grin. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds cool," she said, then looked towards the tome. "Is that where the test is? What'll it be on?"

"I still have to make it," he answered promptly. "Just continue reading. I'll finish it up some time tonight and have it ready for you in the morning. Does that sound fair?"

"Tomorrow?" Sneasel groaned. "I've been here for a month! Can't you just—"

"You would fail," he cut in, turning around and swishing his tail in her face. "Study as much as you can. You can retake this, so I'm not expecting you to pass on your first try."

She shot him a glare. "You're evil."

You're one to talk, Espeon thought, though he couldn't quite ignore the faint sting. It wasn't like he enjoyed it either.

Regardless though, Sneasel settled back down on the ground and returned to her book, and Espeon climbed the few steps on the cabin's porch. He craned his neck to peek at the screen behind the tome, hoping to see a new response from the shepherd. Yet when he saw the wall of text before him, his heart sank.

[Shepherd]: Where you draw the line?

[Shepherd]: Who the hell do you think you are? You don't get to make that call. Get off your fucking high horse.

[Shepherd]: If we can't use her as Null Star, what good is she? You don't need another Vengarl. One is already enough of a pain in the ass.

[Shepherd]: Go on. What good is she?

[Shepherd]: She's a waste of resources. She's a waste of valuable time and money, and she's nothing but a danger to us. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cut her off right now and find another Null Star.

A pit of dread formed in Espeon's stomach. He could already envision the shepherd stepping away from the monitor and into the other room. Espeon typed faster than he ever had before with those paws, hoping to God that he made it.

[Phantom]: Because you need me.

The silence of the blinking cursor felt even quieter than usual. He waited with baited breath, hoping that he hadn't been too late. Every second felt agonizing. There was no way of knowing unless he got a response. Not knowing what else to do, Espeon continued typing.

[Phantom]: There's no telling what kind of damage this'll do to her psyche. We're talking about human lives here. I don't know what happened to Alice, but we're undoing this. This isn't what I agreed to.

The cursor blinked. And blinked. And blinked, and blinked, and blinked. Espeon braced himself. He looked up over the rims of his glasses at Sneasel. She was still reading, but any second now, that could change. Any second now, the shepherd could discontinue the whole operation, and there was nothing they could do about it. They were helpless. They were hostages. And Alice didn't even know.

He knew he sold his soul away for this project, but it wasn't until then that Sora actually felt what it was like to have somebody toy with it.

And then, a reply.

[Shepherd]: We're moving ahead without you. I won't waste my time on your gamble. You will fix her on your own if you're so insistent.

Espeon shut his eyes as he slowly exhaled. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath that whole time until then. His paws stretched out to rub along the porch. Yes, it was still there.

[Shepherd]: And one last thing.

[Shepherd]: We want you. We don't need you. Remember that.

He already did. There wasn't any way he could really forget that, was there? Espeon glanced over his glasses once again towards Sneasel, still ignorant of the whole affair. Somewhere deep down, he pitied her. How much worse could it have been for her if someone else was in his place? What would become of Alice?

[Phantom]: Understood.

"Fucker," he mumbled.

[Phantom]: Signing off.

Gently, he eased the laptop shut.

...

She passed on her third attempt. 21 out of 30 questions. Spelling and syntax still proves an issue, but she's put a lot of effort into learning about techniques and biology.

Vengarl never would've done that.

—Phantom