POV: Cynthia/ LOCATION: Hearthome City

When I arrive to the hospital room, Lucian is sitting upright. Propped against the pillows, his arms folded to his sides, eyes hidden behind tightly wound bandages.

"You're back!" I blurt.

My hopes are instantly dashed by Flint shaking his head. I watch, my heart in my throat, as he gently forces a spoonful of rice gruel into Lucian's lips. Half of the soup goes in, the rest are dabbed by a moist napkin.

"At least he can swallow," Flint murmurs. "He, uh, drank some juice earlier. No solid food yet though."

"Has he spoken?"

"No."

Very slowly, I tread to the bedside. Lucian shows no reaction to my shadow falling over him. Nothing aside from a ping in the nearby machine. He just sits there while Flint smooths the collar of his pajamas.

Okay, okay! I learned my lesson already! Stop with this terrible acting! At least look at me, Lucian! Don't pretend I'm not here!

Oh… Lucian, I wish so desperately to hold your hand. Squeeze it so tightly that you'll wake up. Once we get back to the League, I'll tell you that I'm so, so sorry. Over and over like that the lines of your favorite book. Fill your broken head with empty words.

I give it a few minutes before curtly addressing the daggers in my back. "If you have nothing nice to say, then don't."

Volkner growls.

Fling drags his fingers through his frizzled hair. "Y'all. Please. This is no time to be giving each other the cold shoulder."

"It's either her or me," says Volkner. "This room isn't big enough for four people."

"Volks, please. Lucian can hear you—"

"For this last time, Flint, Lucian can't hear anything! I'm the one going crazy listening to you read the same stupid children's book over and over for the last hour!"

Flint stands. "At least I care! I don't recall you ever acknowledging Lucian when he was still alive!"

Volkner storms up to his best friend, their chests bumping. "Don't you dare talk like you know me, Mister Happy-Go-Lucky!"

"Oooh, I don't know you? We only happened to grow up together, Volkner! Honestly, I think I'm the only one who tolerates your callous attitude! And do I get paid to put up with it? No. Are there any benefits for me in befriending someone who has no disregard for other people? No!"

"S-Shut up—"

"Back then, it was the other kids complaining about you. Now it's the adults. Geez, Volkner, can't you grow up already? Find some friends! I have a life too, damn it!"

Like a suffocating rain of ash, Flint's heated words finally sink into his best friend's thick skull.

Beside me, Lucian shifts. As if laughing at how everything is falling apart.

Then Flint snaps back to reality. "H-Holy… Volks, I'm so sorry! It's… the stress, man. It's getting to me, haha…"

But the damage has been done. Without another word, Volkner locks himself away in the corner. His back to us, he wholly occupies himself with pretending to work on his gizmo.

Plick. Plick. The tapping of a screwdriver against metal fills the soundless void.

Meanwhile, Flint grabs his head. "Shit, what the hell came over you, Flint?! Why didn't you step in, Lucian? That's what you always do!"

The machine responds with more beeping.

Suddenly, I realize that we're not kids anymore. We're actual adults in a world inhabited by uncertainty. In a society where minor decisions carry big consequences.

So like anyone else trying to escape the present, I turn on the TV. The stupid breakfast cereal jingle soothes my raw nerves like balm to a scathing burn.

Then the program abruptly changes. Every channel is tuned into the press conference.

Behind the podium is Looker, his black suit as mournful as his expression. The strictest I've ever seen him. When he speaks, his voice is low. Gravely, like he hasn't slept.

"Thank you for joining me this evening. Considering the current circumstances, there have been breaking developments the citizens of Sinnoh must know."

In the audience are familiar faces. Professor Rowan. Fantina, sitting beside Jupiter, whose thoughts are obviously somewhere else. Also present is that federal prosecutor, along with a no-nonsense man who would ruin my financial future if I dare ask for a raise.

The tension is so ripe that it seeps through the TV screen. The entire region is watching.

Looker reaches for a cup of water. "Currently, 45% of Sinnoh is afflicted by the Paralysis. According to Professor Rowan, the rate will gradually increase until the entire world grinds to a halt.

"In addition, Interpol and Sinnoh's Police are actively pursuing Charon, whose whereabouts remain unknown. He has in his possession two of the five Time Gears."

Another sip of water. "After careful consideration, the reward for Cyrus's capture has been retracted. That investigation is closed."

Murmurs arise from the press. The federal prosecutor doesn't look too happy with that.

"You are making a big mistake," she says. "Given his mental instability, that criminal poses an imminent threat to society if he isn't recaptured immediately."

"I thought they found him already," Flint murmurs.

In the corner, a cog clatters to the floor. Volkner's hands are trembling. Fat beads of sweat dotting his forehead, as if… he's scared of something.

On screen, Looker lets the water marinate in his mouth before speaking. "There is no need, ma'am. Cyrus is dead."

Finally, they found—

Wait.

Cyrus is…

Flint finishes that thought for me. "Cyrus is DEAD?!"

Volkner shoves us aside. Grabs the TV so tightly that it'll shatter into a million electrified bits.

At the conference room, questions explode in the press wing. Jupiter starts so violently that she falls off her chair. All cameras hone into her dazed expression, which quickly morphs into one of sheer terror.

Looker, however, calmly turns the page. "Moving on—"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" she screeches. "Where's your proof? I demand to see substantial evidence!"

"Very well."

I've never seen Jupiter so small before. Normally, nothing can terrify her… except the future. It scares me too, whatever Looker has in store for her. For the world.

Upon the lights dimming, the projector whirls to life. The first image…

Flint slaps a hand over his mouth. "What in the bloody hell…"

The first photograph shows a cell. One submerged in blood. Blood smeared across every surface as if someone went trigger happy with a knife.

"This was photographed one day after the thunderstorm," Looker says. "In the lower left corner, you'll see that blood had sprayed outwards from the window. Which implied that the power outage was no accident."

The pointer circles the black scorch marks clinging to the barred window. A layer of soot sits above the ruptured cement floor… which upon closer inspection, forms an indentation that suspiciously resembles a human body.

Looker holds up several bags of evidence. One houses a melted toy airplane; a charred music box; a straw doll whose body is composed of cinders. All these broken toys are doused in dried blood.

The last bag holds a gizmo, something Volkner would make. Miscellaneous wires, screws, and bolts fished from the trash, assembled into a… what is that?

"A lightning rod," Volkner gasps. Staggering to the wall, he hugs his jacket tighter to his body. "No… nonono… This can't be… He couldn't have…"

Looker explains, "In the hours leading up to dawn, before he was to be relocated to a psychiatric hospital, Cyrus procured these metal scraps to construct a crude but efficient lightning rod. Since he was incarcerated in the upper levels, he was able to redirect lightning to strike the power grid.

"When the fire alarms rang, all the cell doors opened, thus lending the perfect opportunity of escape. Somehow, Cyrus had stolen his Pokemon, used them to blast a hole in the back of the prison, and traveled to here, the ledge of the craggy coast."

"T-That doesn't mean he's dead!" Jupiter insists, her voice cracking. "Being the crafty bastard that he is, he escaped on his Pokemon—"

"That's impossible, Jane. You know that."

Jupiter flinches. Then her resolve hardens, and she marches up the stage. A fist striking the screen, she snaps to the furiously scribbling press, "Then where's the fucking body?"

"A body hasn't been recovered."

"Hah! Then he's still on the loose!"

"But his remains were."

Jupiter freezes. Looker calmly switches the slideshow to a photograph of chipped human teeth.

"Dental records in Cyrus's cell matched what was salvaged in the bottom of the ocean. Along with pieces of his uniform with skin seared to the fabric. On the right, these are other bone fragments which blew off during the lightning strike."

Finally, Jupiter's knees buckle. Fortunately, Fantina catches her in time.

Looker wordlessly brings up a photograph of the protruding rocks below the cliff. What I initially assumed were barnacles is actually a glaze of pink slime. Mixed with tattered strips of orange cloth. The water around that area is discolored.

"At this site, the forensics team found organ tissue, cartilage, bile, and blood. Hence, when Cyrus attempted to escape, he slipped and fell down the cliff. He landed here, where his heart was punctured by the rocks. As he bled out, the turbulent currents pulled him under.

"Ultimately, his corpse was claimed by the sea."

One can hear a pen drop in the audience. One can also hear Looker's hammering heart thudding against his microphone.

Then a familiar voice rings down the hall.

"That's can't be right!"

Flint and I spin around. Volkner is gone. While we were morbidly engrossed by the press conference, he had left our side.

"Cyrus is dead," Looker says harshly. "Case closed."

But Volkner holds his ground. "We are referring to a highly motivated, cunning, and extreme perfectionist who considers every loophole in his plans. And just like that, it's over? Something is obviously not right! Get your shit together and give us real answers!"

The next thing I know, Flint is up there, trying to reason with his best friend to no avail. The press is eating it up though.

As he's being dragged out by security, Volkner screams, "You're making a big mistake! No way that robot dweeb died by fucking accident!"

"I know," Looker grunts. "He was dying long before that."

And he stares at the screen. To me. Silently calling me out for the times I've hurt Cyrus. Draco Meteor… near strangulations… taking advantage of his psychological scars…

Belittling him… not trusting him enough…

Pretending that he wasn't worth my time.

I immediately shut the TV. My pulse is racing. Cold sweat pooling in my palms.

In the deafening silence of the hospital room, Lucian turns to me. Appraising me with immeasurable disappointment. A line of blood trickles down his temples… and his spine snaps forward.

Back he sinks into his cursed, unending slumber.