POV: Cyrus / LOCATION: Veilstone Galactic HQ, Laboratory

I sense Jupiter's scrutinizing glare drilling into my spine as we embark to the Laboratory, situated conveniently beneath HQ. Yet I feign ignorance as always, dismissing her unspoken words with a cold countenance.

A stale, frosty chill hangs over the dark and dreary basement. Unlike the festive floors above, the atmosphere here is tense. Due to the dubious nature of work that is performed here, those in the research facility must be personally screened by me.

The Grunts that passed were willing to forsake their humanity for science.

My breathing shallow, I pass by the tanks of green preservation fluid, halting my pace to glimpse the faces of the Pokemon residing within. I've remembered each one: where they were captured, who their Trainers were. From behind the glass casing they leer back at me, nothing but contempt burning in their eyes.

"Surely you can spite me more than that," I tease to the glowering Pokemon.

Hatred is a powerful emotion. It takes but a thought to seed, a will to propagate; it curdles, hardens, feeds the incomplete heart with delicious poison, keeping the mind sharp even while the body is stripped of nourishment.

That power stemming from hatred, once harnessed, will be phenomenal.

I shift my focus to another tank, one that holds a very pampered Clefairy. Her Trainer has spoiled her, I can tell, and her resulting naivety has dulled her rationale. Hence, her smile towards me holds no malice.

"There will be humans who will take advantage of your kindness," I murmur. "Me, for example. I only seek to harness your power."

All that time spent on cultivating friendship has not been for naught, as it was friendship that led to this Pokemon's evolution. And the source of energy behind that transformation was love. Ephemeral, fleeting, shallow bonds which can never sustain as long as a grudge.

Love and loathing. Which emotion will outlive the other?

A faint yelp brings my attention to a few Grunts in front of me, all of them rather startled by my presence.

"Master Cyrus, you should be resting—"

"And take up space? I think not. Your mission reports. Now."

"Y-Yes, sir. We were successful in obtaining Pokemon that bear association with the cosmos. After we trace their origins, we'll commence with the energy siphoning."

Impressive. They did their job for once. "Good," I say. "You're dismissed."

In the only corner lit aglow by a cheerful lamp is Jupiter, who I quickly rejoin. Her complexion is green, and it's not from the glowing fluid. Frankly, she looks sick to her stomach.

You're too soft, Jupiter. Despite the rough façade you wear, your heart belongs to the righteous side.

"You don't have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable."

She jumps at my voice, yet tries to mask her unease by stubbornly tucking in her arms.

"What will you do with the Pokemon?" she mutters. "After everything's done?"

I clasp my hands behind my back, gaze wandering to nothing in particular. "If it makes you feel better, I don't have any plans for them after their energies are obtained."

Within the dull drone of ventilation, a sigh escapes from Commander Jupiter's pursed lips.

"I'll have the Grunts return them," I continue, pretending nothing was heard. "As I've stated, my aim is not to capture Pokemon, but to merely understand their mysterious powers. For example, the energy that is given off during evolution. The energy behind a particular Move, like Draco Meteor."

"The Move that almost killed you," she says crisply.

I automatically reach for my neck, where a grave wound sleeps underneath my bandages. "I witnessed that power firsthand, Jupiter… and I've never seen such raw, unbridled destruction. To think, those meteors were the physical manifestation of a Pokemon's rage. Do you suppose the rest of her Pokemon are capable of such incredible hostility?"

With a smile, Jupiter pats me endearingly on the head. "Kid, I think you're a fucking masochist. Now can we please get out of this hellhole?"

At Jupiter's insistence, we leave the specimen containment area for the inner sanctum of the Laboratory.

"Boss!"

I greet Mars with an extended hand. "No weapons allowed on Galactic property."

"But, Boss! What if someone's to pop you in the head when your back is turned? With this darling, I can—"

"Now."

Mars reluctantly surrenders her pistol, pouting as I properly dispose of the ammunition.

"Where do you even get all those firearms?" Jupiter mutters. "Didn't Cyrus throw away a bunch of them last time?"

Mars puffs out her chest. "Dontcha worry a thing, Jupiter. I know what I'm doing. In fact, I threw my first Molotov at eight years old!"

Rather than being impressed, Jupiter is aghast with horror. "What kind of irresponsible fool lets a girl mess with explosives?!"

"Mars," I say sharply. "One day, you will hurt someone. Once a plate is broken, it is impossible to put it back to how it once was."

"But I'm an expert at this kiddy stuff!" she insists. "I was better than my coward of an older brother!"

"Mars," I hiss with enough venom to silence her protests. Tears glimmer at the corner of her eyes, and Jupiter throws me a nasty glare. I hastily pat her on the shoulder. "How about you show me your progress on your assignment?"

Her expression brightens. "Okay! You won't be disappointed, sir!"

"You're the only one who can handle her," Jupiter grumbles as we walk down a dimly-lit corridor. "Whoever those fools were, they messed her up bad. They even had the nerve to abandon her. It was a good thing you were there, otherwise…"

"Otherwise her future will be spent behind concrete," is how the thought always finishes.

I reply in silence, however. Back then, I was simply at a certain place at a particular time. It wasn't like I had anything better to do. It was a coincidence that our paths crossed. An accident and nothing more.

"Saturn!" Mars exclaims. "Boss and Jupiter are here!"

Saturn spins around in his chair. Instead of allowing the seat for Mars, he keeps his arse situated while she leans over his computer. I'll simply waste my limited breath if I remind him again.

"Master Cyrus!" he squeals.

I frown. "Did something good happen to you today?"

"Huh? Well, you finally showed up! I feel like I haven't seen you around lately."

"Maybe if you looked up from your games for once, you'll see him."

Saturn's ears flush bright red. "B-Be quiet, Mars!"

I wave that aside. "Anyhow, any updates on Charon's whereabouts?"

"If I see him, I'll make sure to arrange a happy little accident," says Mars.

"Not yet," says Saturn, wrinkling his nose. "I'm just worried that he stole classified documents when he deserted the team. Knowing him, he probably sold them on the black market."

"He's out there somewhere," Jupiter huffs, "waiting to take Galactic for himself. You know how he is, Cyrus. He'll sell us out at any given opportunity."

Never has a name caused the hair on my arms to bristle in such a fashion. I am very inclined to let Mars have her way with him, but I'd rather punish him myself. If I see Charon, he'd only wished Mars found him first.

"That's why I'm moving into the next phase of the plan," I say. "Soon, I'll be mounting an expedition back to Foggy Forest. What I seek is definitely there… and this time, there will be no more unforeseeable diversions."

On Saturn's control panel is a red button, which I press. The steel doors on the side slides open, allowing the unearthly green glow to spill into the darkened prison. Even from here, I can feel its pulsating energy, a marvelous power that excites my heartbeat.

"A Time Gear," Jupiter says with hushed reverence. "I still can't believe you managed to hunt one down, Cyrus. You really are a crazy son of a bitch."

"Thank you, Jupiter. Shame that this Time Gear is only the first of many."

Imagine what I can do once I've gathered all five… No. Imagine what I can't do.

While my Commanders monitor Sinnoh for any abnormalities caused by the Time Gear's removal, I head to an even darker recess of the Laboratory, to my second workshop.

I wish it wouldn't have come to this. I quite enjoyed our time together, and I truly am disappointed that I'll have to end it just as I did last time.

That night, you were indeed lying to me. My vision might've been compromised by illness, but I saw it clearly in your eyes. You've regained a crucial memory. You remembered who I am.

So it is with heavy heart that I finally complete my memory erasure device. As I've stated before, I bear no ill grudge towards you, Cynthia. You are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.