POV: Cyrus / LOCATION: [classified]

"You've certainly seen better days."

On the other side of the glass is my visitor. He leers down at me, his crimson-tinted glasses glinting like the murderous eyes of a monster.

"That immature Champion finally punctured a major organ? Speak up, boy, otherwise I'll recommend a stronger dose of diazepam."

My muscles involuntary tense from the ghost of the needle. I feel it hovering above my flesh, dipping into skin, worming its way through my nerves.

"Please don't," I mouth. "No more…"

Charon puts a hand to his ear. "No smart comebacks today? No empty threats? Have you finally been institutionalized, you rotten brat?"

Then he hits the glass. Under normal circumstances, my brain will shut everything down as a defensive mechanism. Right now, however, there is a glaring disconnect between my perception of reality and the space in which my body inhabits. While my body gives an involuntary twitch at the novel stimuli, my mind remains comfortably numb.

"This is embarrassing," Charon hisses. "You're the type of impudent child whose tongue would be a prized trophy for your parents. If you keep pretending to be mute, then I'll have no choice but to call Jane to discipline you."

Jupiter! Just her name is enough to rekindle warmth within my throbbing chest. Oh, how I yearn for her touch… even a simple smack to the forehead is worth all the knowledge in this world—

Wait. What do I hope to gain from this false promise of reunion? She hates me. I've lost all privileges of associating myself with her. With them.

"This is your last warning before I demand you be put into solitary confinement!"

I cower from his threat. Charon's not the type to waste breath. He will enact on his threats, as I've learned time and time again.

There exists a bloated, squeamish weight in my chest, as if there is currently fluid sloshing about in my lungs. I feel like I'm drowning. This freezing sensation is one which forms from within.

Charon shakes his head in disgust. Or is it pity? "Can't even look at grown-ups in the eyes. Disgraceful."

I'm sorry…

"To think that I came all the way here when the entire region is bracing for the biggest thunderstorm of the decade. You are nothing more than a disappointment."

I'm sorry…!

"I can't believe that an immature buffoon like you exposed the myth of the Time Gears. You actually went as far as to locate them. Such brazen tenacity… too bad all your efforts have gone to waste."

Charon then leans into the glass. "Oh, but worry not, Cyrus. I, the scientific genius Charon, will gladly pick up after your pieces like I did with your company. Rest assured that I will put all your sleepless nights to good use."

Time Gears… I have dedicated the latter half of my life chasing after those mythical relics. I've poured over countless energy and time into uncovering their secrets. By manipulating the fabric of reality, I would reset the world back to the beginning, back to a time before conflict and strife. In a newly created world, where I've eradicated anything that would cause suffering, people and Pokemon would finally be happy.

That was my dream. That dream motivated me to wake up every morning.

But now, I have awoken to cruel reality. My dream doesn't matter anymore. It never did.

Charon is still rambling. "I had planned to check in on that surprise I gave you at Crystal Cave. The recorder I had entrusted to Saturn? Exploiting your weakness was so easy it was almost laughable! What a shame Saturn only used it once! And don't get me started on those three, especially that disobedient wench!"

"Don't call her that," I mumble in my head.

"Walking off on Neo Galactic like that! She was supposed to get permission from me, her boss, before she quit! Those other brainless Grunts had the tenacity to follow her example!"

After measuring me with a sneer, Charon slides a briefcase on the table.

"It is obvious that you are both physically and mentally unfit to hold your place as the primary stakeholder of Galactic Energy. Even though I have the legitimate credentials to be its leader, the property is still under your name. You, a lowly, good-for-nothing criminal who has lost the ability to differentiate reality from fiction. That's not right, Cyrus."

I nod. No. That's not right at all, Charon.

"Heh heh… I'm glad we're seeing eye-to-eye. Now's your chance to fix your mistakes."

As he prepares the documents, I painfully put my hands on the table, palms up. The cameras are whirling overhead. The guards ready their syringe in case I misbehave again.

"Here. Look familiar?" Charon dangles that cheap blue pen before sliding it through the slot in the glass barrier. I stare at it. Then I accept his gift.

"Good boy," he purrs. "You just took your first step to rehabilitation."

Thoughts numb, I sign my name on all the designated fields. He tells me to initial here. Copy this clause there. I obediently follow his commands until I come across the last blank.

Today's date. I've lost all bearings of time.

"I'll take care of that." Charon collects the completed documents. "Truthfully, I did not expect you to willingly surrender control of your assets like that… but I suppose it's never too late for a broken tool to be useful."

I was useful? Oh. Thank you. I continue to stare at him expectantly, his blue pen in my hand, patiently awaiting another opportunity to please the figure of authority.

But Charon is too engrossed in imagining the monetary payoffs of his dubious deed. He gives the papers a deep, glutinous sniff, eyelids fluttering, lips flapping with a loud sigh.

"Well," he says. "I did promise you that this will be the last time we would meet. Farewell, you pitiful child. You deserve everything that's coming to you."

Before he leaves, he offers on last piece of advice:

"Remember, Cyrus, that there are no such things as accidents."

The door opens. I initially assume he had left when I hear a different scuffling of shoes. Heels, to be precise. A muffled impact.

"Oh! My apologies, young lady." In a lower voice, Charon adds, "When did the state send in a lawyer? Ah, whatever. I hope she puts him away forever."

A lawyer? I squint into the distortion. Fuzzy details are emerging, puzzle pieces clumsily falling into place. A stern face with eyes like chips of granite. A downward tug to her lips, one so painfully familiar…

And fear seizes my heart. Both my mind and body finally fall back to earth to scream at me to flee. Flee as far away from her as possible.

10 years. Despite the corrosive effects of time, I will never forget the woman who had the misfortune of raising me.

She advances. I squeeze myself into the back of my chair, a low, gurgling whimper bubbling in my throat. There is no glass wall. No temporal or spatial chasm dividing us. She is in this room, and she will punish me for my act of betrayal on that fateful night.

Charon! I pound the glass. Charon, please don't leave me! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HER!

But he is already gone.

My heart is about to explode and spray these walls with blood. I plan to bite my tongue off so I can be taken away, but the guards instantly intervene.

What's more horrifying than her cold appraisal is her silence. At least say something! Tell me what a sore disappointment I've become! Don't just stand there looking at me like that… like you would do to problematic criminals that needed to be sectioned from the public forever…

Then I see your badge. To have the federal prosecutor visit me in prison only confirms my fears: You're here to make sure that I will never see the sun again.