They trashed it. That tavern that is - not the Time Gear or the gear gear Lucario took from the fire types. It was noon the next day as they arrived and the bartender was still cleaning up the place. Trashed bottles, the obligatory chairs on the ground, the works. Lining the floor like a bedsheet is a coagulated monstrosity of foodstuff and all those bounty posters. Nevermind bringing out the mop, someone ought to take an incinerator to this place.

Vileplume is on the floor, fruitlessly scrubbing away what they can with a putrid black rag. The look on their face when they see two people walk in is pure terror.

"Hey, can't you see we're cl-"

"Yeah, it's obvious." Lucario adds a glob of spit to the mess. Vileplume glares at him. "Why are we here, M?"

"For minstrel," Masters answers, "he's typically upstairs."

With deliberate careful steps Masters navigates through swamp of tavern grime. Lucario follows in his footsteps until the two pokemon slop their way to high ground, up where the three guest rooms lie. Upstairs has been spared the worst of it, there's only the occasional broken bottle to worry about. Masters leads them to the third door, then knocks as hard as he can.

"Minstrel!" The hatted typhlosion shouts. "Minstrel, I need you! You better not be sleeping on me again!"

Yeah, they've probably done this before. Minstrel and Masters are best pals, he's just the new criminal tag along. After a good minute of pounding on the door, it seems their bird friend isn't going to answer. Masters sighs, then goes to knock again, but this time his hand sinks right through the thin door like it's water. It takes a moment of fumbling blindly but they eventually hear the tuning of a deadbolt.

This, and the hole Lucario made in his face confirms it. Whatever weird breed of Typhlosion he is, Masters is part ghost. He should've guessed earlier. Masters pulls his hand out, then presses his lips, shushing them.

He slowly creaks the door ajar and both pokemon step inside onto the carpeted interior. Thick blinds blot out the sun. From drums to wind pipes, a bevy of instruments are on display. There's even a half-finished painting of some cliffside, the paint's still out. And the magic music minstrel man who owns all these expensive toys is in the back, having made a nest of blankets on a bed that's way too big for a bird of his size. He's resting on his hat like a pillow, eyes shut, tucked in - oblivious to the pokemon currently standing in his home.

"Close the door." Masters whispers.

"Yeah, yeah. We gonna bag him or what, M?" Lucario shuts the door behind them. "What's your plan here?"

"Bag him? We're not kidnappers."

Master holds back a laugh as he approaches the slumbering bird. Looming over him like a purple sun he leans in close, puffs up his chest, and yells.

"Morning Minstrel!"

Blue and yellow feathers fly out as the Chatot flails around in bed, squawking, panicking until he finally realizes he's not about to be gutted. The ghost in front of him is very much real and very much not the threat he looks to be.

"Masters! What?" Minstrel squawks, kicking his tiny legs off the edge of the normal-sized bed. "What are you-"

He finally notices Lucario standing up against the door, waving at him. This seems to get him to wake up for real as he slides off onto his feet and slaps his hat on his little head.

"Relic's song, show a little mercy next time and let me sleep a little!" Are the closest thing to anger this bird can seemingly get. He turns his attention to the two, wings tucking in. "There's no sense moaning over it. I'm awake now. I see you've found yourself a new friend, haven't you?"

Friend? Master looks over his shoulder, Lucario shrugs.

"We're more work friends than friends." Masters turns back. "He and I are going to work on this gear case together. He needs money, I don't. He'll be taking the spoils in exchange for not leaving me out to dry. We agreed to have each other's backs."

In other words, he's not gonna stab me in the back like those other guys are. Lucario's not exactly friends with him, they haven't gotten together on the best of terms, but they need each other if either of them is gonna get what they want. Criminals, explorers - whatever they're supposed to be they're both on the same page and that's more than either of them can ask for. He gets money, the ghost gets his gears. Both win.

"Yeah, he's right." Lucario speaks from the door. "Now are we here to drink with the funny bird, or are we gonna get a move on 'M? Those gears don't find themselves, and I bet you the amount of people looking for them has tripled since last night."

"We'll move in a minute."

He pulls out the time gear from his garbs. It dangles from a leather noose, shining red like a darkened sun. The air inside of the room instantly changes. It feels colder, and the second Minstrel reaches for the pitch-black Time Gear Master yanks it away from him, keeping the gear close to his heart.

"You really found a gear…" Minstrel looks over to Lucario. "Is this what you told me about?"

"It's not the same one, I guess Time Gears just look this way." Lucario can't see it from this angle, the Typhlosion's blocking it. "Unless he's really good at hiding it from me, I don't think he got any powers from it either."

"Powers?" Masters nearly spits.

"Yeah, they give you powers. When I held it I could see a double of me, and when I used it I went back to where the double was and it'd go poof. It didn't matter, of course. Hal still got away with only to lose the damn thing. You didn't experience anything funny when you picked it up, right?"

"Other than usual time foolery? No." Masters replies.

"Weird."

That's all Lucario has to say. "Weird" is right, he doesn't understand how these gears are supposed to work. Figuring out the rules, or why's are for pokemon much smarter than he is. Lucario is here for the money. Fancy powers be damned, if he can get enough money to make off his debt he'll be happy. Masters is the aforementioned smart pokemon, looking at the gear in his hand like it's a kind of mystical puzzle, probably asking a million questions about it. There's got to be rules to it, right? Lucario stopped caring about what they did the second Masters said the gears were all his.

Masters tries to do something with it, brandishing it like it's a shield to no avail. He tries to thrust out his hand whilst holding it in the other, nothing. He gives up before he makes a bigger fool of himself, then offers minstrel a hand.

"Give me your wing." The Typhlosion says, leaning down to one knee.

Minstrel obliges, and Masters takes it into both hands. As his breath steadies, so do his flames, both moving in rhythmic succession.

"Are you trying to propose to him?" Lucario snorts. "I'm your partner in crime, I'm not your ring-"

Masters shushes him, and the room becomes silent as kneels before the bard as if he were a king, so quiet they can hear the floor being swept underneath them. Minstrel's breath slows until he's as frozen as a corpse. A whole agonizing minute passes without him breathing. When it seems as though life itself was about to leave him Minstrel stands up, and begins to shout.

His eyes are murky white. He holds onto his head as if it were ready to pop, and he shambles blindly through the instruments, knocking them over, reaching for air. Both pokemon stare in shock as he screams out.

"Paper, P-Pen!"

A psychic assault, a fit? There's no time to ask what's going on. Lucario scans the room for anything resembling pen and paper, and he locks eyes with a half-finished sketch on display. He runs forwards, grabbing a hold of Master's cold, icy hands and drags him over to the painting. Lucario dunks a brush into a paint can, then forces it into Master's hand. It's then, as if putting the brush in his hand were the final piece in a dungeon's trap, he begins to move like a machine - sketching without thought or wisdom.

Masters swings the brush as though it were a sword. His mad slashes begin to form shapes. At first a farmhouse, then second what appears to be a river basin, and at last: a time gear. Wherever this was: it was at a winery.

In his final moments Masters draws a pellet-like berry with several strands jutting off it, then lines the sky around the farmhouse with a shroud of dark birds. The brush slips out of his hand. Before he can come tumbling down Lucario catches him.

"You're alright." Lucario says, watching the Typhlosion's eyes morph back to their normal reds. He looks back at Minstrel, who's about as shocked as he is. "Can I bring him downstairs?"

"By all means, take that painting with you as well." Minstrel waves them off, trying to go back into his nest of blankets as if nothing's happened. "He'll be fine, just get him Persim if he needs it. And if Vileplume moans, just tell him it's for my friend."

Lucario nods, lugging the half-conscious Typhlosion out of the room after cutting the drawing free from the rest of the painting. As they exit the fire type stumbles forward, lurching over the railing, gasping. He looks like he's about to spew out three days worth of dinner, but by a miracle, he holds it all in. He extends an open hand.

"Paper - hand it over."

Masters asks, and Lucario obliges. Taking the canvas into his hands he holds out the drawing in front of them, wiping drool from his mouth with his forearm.

"The next gear we'll be looking for is at a of berry farm, I believe. I saw us both there, that's a good thing. We're gonna make it there." He points to the spiky thing he drew. "You know what kind of berry this is? I saw them all over the trees."

"Forget about the trees, what happened to you? You went all crazy!"

Masters is stone faced.

"I bring you all the way here, you touch a dude's hand, and all of a sudden it's like you've had the worst bender of your life." Lucario adds a second glob to the floor below. "What, did he poison you? Are you psychic, what happened there? I'm all for playing along but if you're like this you're gonna get yourself put into an early grave."

"I'm already a ghost, Lucario." Masters chuckles. "I'm not as intimidated by mortality as you are.'

"We can discuss this kind of stuff once I'm drunk - but that's not what I'm worried about!" Lucario points to Minstrel's room. "You're gonna tell me what happened there. We can play coy all day but-"

"My father was a Zoroark."

Lucario blinks, it feels like a slap to his face.

"A Zoroark? Aren't they those illusion guys?"

"Yeah, he was." The corner of Master's mouth twitches, he's trying not to smile. "He was the adventurous type, sort of like an explorer but he had family things so he couldn't be out there running dungeons. I used to go on trips with him to visit the Air Continent's elder, this mysterious Ninetails, and they taught me a few psychic tricks I've carried onto my second life."

"I find it hard to ignore you're using 'was'." Lucario chimes in. "What happened to your daddy?"

"Oh, we lost him in the incident. A star came falling down to the Air Continent one year, and only in the nick of time was it destroyed. It shattered into myriad pieces, searing only parts of the land in cosmic flame." Masters' breath is weirdly uneasy. "Father left the day it was set to fall, he went to get wine, and he never came back. He was just another-"

He had been listening this entire time to his tall tales of falling stars and disastrous events. The second there's mention of wine, Lucario snaps out of it. The sly mutt. He elbows the fire-type. The noise Masters explodes into sounds like a high-pitched Mightyena.

"Yeah, I'm sure he went to get Moo-moo Milk too." Lucario groans. "You gonna tell me the real story now?"

"No, of course not!" A few more chuckles leave him, but Masters winds down after the nudge. "I do have a sixth sense, and it is psychic. Perhaps once you graduate from work friend to friend friend I'll let you in on a little."

What he's saying is: his psychic abilities are a secret and he's not gonna tell him about it. For a pokemon who so openly admitted what his moves were mid-combat, it's odd of him to take such a hard stance on whatever happened there. He'll have to earn his trust one way or another. The secrets of this phantasmal explorer are locked until then.

"Sure." Lucario skims over the Typhlosion with his eyes. "You don't look as hammered as you were earlier. Do you need Persim?"

"No."

Masters backs away from the railing, leading the way to the tavern floor where Vileplume has made no progress whatsoever. The floor is still as horrid as it was. Vileplume looks at them once again, trying not to lose their temper. They should totally just walk around them outside, but Lucario has an idea.

"Flower boy." Lucario speaks from his palace off the ground. "How familiar are you with berries?"

"Enough to run a tavern." They look up, a darkened rag in hand. "If it's a mysterious, unidentified berry, go mail it to the scholars. I'm sure they'd love to talk your ears off."

"Well, it's one we're not familiar with. I'm not gonna go walking across the Dusk Continent to ask a stupid question." Lucario swipes the torn canvas, showing Vileplume the crude sketch of a spiny berry. "You know what this thing is?"

They squint at it from a distance, humming with their tiny mouth agape. They look at their rainbow rack of wines, then back at the duo.

"It's probably either Colbur or Spelon. If it's Spelon you're outta luck, you're only gonna find those crops in the Sand Continent, Colbur they grow near the tundra during the dark seasons. It's a tree which only fruits in the dead of night, it's a favorite of those weirdo Dark-Types." Vileplume resumes their work, groaning. "If you're gonna make me get up and serve you, I swear to Winter's Winds I'll…"

"Doesn't look like my thing anyways. I'll probably get one of those spikey bits stuck in my throat." Lucario replies, handing the drawing back. "You got anywhere you'd like to visit before we book it, 'M?"

"Not really." Masters rolls up the canvass, tucking it next to the cages on his belt. "What with this 'M'? I've told you what to call me, it's Masters."

"Calling you "Master" sounds weird. I'm not your pet Murkrow. The hat doesn't make the boss, you'd need a hundred more feathers to make you pass for a Honchkrow." Lucario carefully retreads across the tavern. "I ave a friend I need to stop into, after this we move north as fast as we can. We'll stop at Halfway Rock, stock up on goodies, and ask around about Colbur Wineries. Once one of those merchants up there squeals we can head straight to what we're looking for."

"Squeal?" Masters asks, following Lucario over the grimy floor. "You're not gonna bully them are you?"

"Not physically. I'll scare them every day of the week, actually beating the daylights out of one of those merchants is a bad idea." Lucario reaches the stairs leading outside, and grunts. "It's not a mistake I'm willing to make again."

"Forty thousand?" Masters repeats, making it to the stairs.

"Yeah." Lucario looks over. Vileplume doesn't seem to be listening in,

they're much too busy trying to save their business. "You're not from here, are you?"

"Nope, came quite a ways though."

"Good for you then, I'll be your tour guide."

Out in the market the sea air feels like paradise compared to the stuffy grime down below. All sorts of vendors from berry farmers, to bakeries, to seed peddlers crowd the market. It's tempting to swipe a quick treat rom one of the many sellers but he knows they'll find grub out on the road. He can go hungry for a few hours longer.

What he's interested in is in the back, in the purple hut where he can see a few explorers leaving to and fro. Lucario leads the way through the crowd, wrinkling his nose at all the delicious smells until he makes the phantom's door flap to where incense blasts the duo.

"They're really laying the incense on thick if I can smell it." Masters sticks his tongue out. "Are you here to get your cologne?"

"Just to say hi to a friend, and we'll move on." Lucario swivels around. He doesn't miss a beat when he throws out his hand. "Give me the gear."

"No."

"Then you're coming in."

Masters doesn't make a fuss, he just rolls his eyes and follows Lucario through the door flaps into the purple paradise of rare Orbs. A glittering array of trinkets surrounds them, shining brightly in the lantern light overhead. The Orb Peddler is delighted to see him, not so much this stranger. She doesn't have her weird smile on, it's more of a business woman's gaze.

"Lucario, pleased to see you back." She motions to the fire-type. "I see you've made a new acquaintance."

"Masters." he answers, turning his attention to the dozens of orbs surrounding them. "You've got a fancy collection here, do you supply the local guilds?"

"Of course I do." The merchant chuckles, turning her full attention back to Lucario. "Your friend does not seem of these lands, and I'll say, I have not seen a Typhlosion such as him. Where did you come across such a peculiar fellow?"

"Outside the bar, we ran right into each other. He found the gear you pointed to before I did." Lucario speaks. "There was a fight over it, he won, and so he got to keep it. I came here to let you know I've got a buddy, that I haven't forgotten about what I owe you either."

The phantom pauses. She strokes her chin with a silk like appendage, eyeing the Typhlosion pretending to admire her collection. Suddenly, he sees her eyes narrow as if she's seen something he did not, and a jovial laugh slips from her w-shaped mouth.

"I see. It is your friend's choice if he wants to surrender the gear or not." Her eyes remained trained on Masters like a beast's. "Your friend wears it close to his breast, I think it would sooner part with his un-life than let me lay a finger on it."

"You've hit the nail, miss." Typhlosion glances back. "Are you planning to get the bounty?"

"Why would I ever?" As the Phantom finally smiles, her fangs glint like sharpened daggers. "They are of great interest to me; great interest to everyone. I'll tell you more when next we meet, Masters."

She looks back to Lucario.

" And please, do return with a gear next time. I could wait for an eternity; though even my patience has its limit."

Lucario nods.

"Sure, boss."

She can feel the cold biting at her scales as she drags herself through the swampwater, trying to hold onto those flashes of consciousness in a pitiful attempt to drag herself back home. Halcion had put herself into this mess, this was her doing. That thing was not of this world. She made the mistake of challenging it, and it's a mistake she'd make a hundred times over.

The freezing water was the only thing keeping her from falling into another wretched nightmare, but soon, and very slowly, she can feel the grip of unconsciousness take hold. But she'll persevere, she'll make it back to the tavern; warn everyone about this outsider causing whole towns to vanish.

If she can warn everyone, then her stupid mistake wouldn't be for vain.

She crawls out onto the muddy path, flopping out of the waters like a pathetic fish. Just a second to breathe, she reminds herself, just a second and she can keep on moving.

Just a…

"You've seen better days, haven't you?"

A voice calls out to her, shaking her awake. Mienshao? No, it's someone she's never heard nor seen before. He's almost as tall as a tree, as slender as a pole. The pink and blue water-type approaches her with intent, leaning down. He pats down her belongings.

"Who are you?" She squeaks out. A finger covers her mouth.

"Do not waste your energy, Halcion." The Inteleon grabs hold of her arm. She can feel the wound sting in response. "I will get you safely back to the tavern, then you'll give me what I want in return, are we clear?"

She nods.

"The grass-type was wise enough to tell me, had he fussed for a minute sooner I would've found you face-down in the water."

A stream of water runs up to his fingertips to form a dense bubble of fluid. He runs it down her neck, scratching her flesh with his tiny black claws and leaving behind gills in their wake. She's been turned into a water-type. And the water which was threatening to send her to a frigid grave now feels as gentle as an autumn breeze.

Thanks, she wants to say. Halcion doesn't have the strength to speak. She grips Inteleon's hand as she's dragged off, floating over the swamps, spiraling into a cold abyss.

Cold.

A horrible ringing in her ears shakes Halcion awake. The scarf she's wearing flails around, making awful bell-like sounds until she finally strangles it into submission.

She's back in reality thanks to the band Minstrel's given her. She's in her guild, on the cold stone floor of her dorm room. She must've collapsed the second she got inside, how pathetic. Whatever the outsider did to her, it's gonna stick, and there's nothing short of this magical scarf she can do about it.

Why did she come to her dorm again? If she had wanted to warn them about who put her under, she should've ran straight to Lunatone .Instead she's all alone in her bedroom. The three hay beds are messy and unoccupied, everything appears as it was when she left that fortunate night three or more weeks ago. The guild has been going fine without her.

The question still remains. Why was Halcion here? She obviously wants to catch up with the guild, with Lunatone, with Magcargo. But why her dormitories in particular, why did she want to go here than anywhere else in the guild? She could be scarfing her face full of berries upstairs, yet instead she chose this place. What's so special about this room?

There's a knock on the door, then it opens. It's Mienshao.

"Halcion? What are you doing here?"

She sprints into the room, ready to scoop Halcion off the floor when she stops her.

"Chesto, do you h-"

Mienshao doesn't even let her finish her sentence as she hurries to her dresser, pulling out cupboard after cupboard until she finds the familiar navy-blue berry and throws it over to her. Halcion catches it, chomping clean into its hard shell. She swallows a chunk.

"Thanks." Halcion speaks, falling straight onto her back. "It'll keep me awake for a minute, sorry for intruding."

"It's your home, Hal.." Mienshao manages to laugh. "I was worried a rookie accidentally wore a Racket Band to sleep, I couldn't imagine it was you."

"Racket Band?" Halcion squirms her way to the hay bed, doffing the yellow scarf in the process. It's adorned with a pattern of bells, hence the cacophony which woke her. "I woke up with it earlier, I'm gonna guess Minstrel gave it to me. Kept me from falling into the river earlier."

"I'm sure it has its uses." The fighting-type sighs. "You're going to wake up the guild wearing that around."

"They can whine all they want." Halcion groans. "I don't have the energy to care or argue with them. If you don't like the noise then you better have ten thousand poke's worth of Chesto Wine."

Going from a bar to her very own bed was much better, at least here she wasn't burning a hole in Mienshao's pocket. The guild will help her, and if they don't, then the Guildmaster's gonna catch a mean earful from her.

"They'll help you, Hal. But it's not loud noises or angry recruits I'm worried about." She approaches, standing by her. "I need your help."

"I'm not of much help like this, Mienshao." Halcion groans, grabbing a blanket from her hay bed, and coiling up into a roll. "Drag one of the new guys with you."

"This is important, Hal."

"More important than the thing that's out there?" Halcion growls.

"What thing?"

"This thing that's making whole towns disappear, the thing which did this!" Halcion shoots upright, pointing at the blemish on her shoulder's scales. "Soon as this thing stops bugging me I'm gonna hunt that thing down and I won't come back till It's brought to justice!"

The anger inside of her burns hotter than the sun, hotter than those horrible dreams are cold. She's furious, determined. She's gonna get that creature, put them down for everyone's sake.

"Halcion?" Mienshao sounds worried. As she leans in closer, Halcion curls back up.

"You gotta question? Save it for later." Halcion points at the door. "Now get out of here, I need a nap after what I've been through."

She's not gonna leave, her fussing is futile. Mienshao moves towards the cabinets, she can hear her digging for gear.

"I'm trying to find someone Hal." Mienshao sighs. "I can't do it alone, I can't ask the guild for help. I've been waiting to ask you this forever."

"Tell me who you're looking for, tell me the mission, Mienshao." Halcion groans in defeat. "If I have to sit here for the next month alone I'm gonna worry sick."

"It's not a bounty, it's not a lost Pokemon, Hal. There's a reason why I can't ask the guild for help."

There's a pause. Halcion looks over her shoulder to see Mienshao, a look of dread frozen in her eyes. The air feels dense.

"It's a hit job."