Dark dark hickory doors creak open with a nudge of Honchkrow's wing. An overwhelming scent of cinnamon and pine quills covers the mildew of ancient artifacts and books stacked to the concave ceiling. A fireplace with a decorative mantle depicting two spindly dragon-type roars through the night, the heat travelling upwards into the dorms of slumbering mailmen. There are two chairs resting by the flame, one dragon-type sized, the other smaller.

To his right was the actual office of this "office", a big desk for organizing papers, signing off important things, and just looking intimidating to sit behind. The wine rack behind it was full of expensive-looking red liquor, but the real prizes were off to Honchkrow's left. Artifacts - tokens of bygone ages - stand on various glass pillars. Smack in the middle of this henge of glass was this museum's crown jewel: five broken pieces of a wavy blue terracotta.

Why this mundane pottery needs a Luminous Orb chandelier shining on it is a question for pokemon with money, like his boss. Standing near a window with a wine glass in her wing claws, a well-dressed beast of a Noivern watches the sunset through a foot of tinted glass. She sips wine slowly, careful not to splash all over the cravat and black gold garments she's wearing. Her giant ears flick as Honchkrow shuts the door behind him.

She obviously knows he's here yet she's standing there. Is she expecting him to say something, interrupt her brooding - whatever she was doing? It takes Honchkrow a moment to work up the courage to clear his throat.

"Boss?"

"Shhh."

She takes a second sip from her glass, and turns away from the window. The look in her yellow eyes is only slightly unnerving. Her mouth is stained red with wine.

"I thought I could get a moment to myself. At least you have the courtesy to knock, your counterpart behaves as though he owns this place. That ruffian Bisharp." She moves towards the centerpiece, then beckons him.. "Come over, let me show you something."

Getting closer to the pieces of terracotta didn't make it look more interesting. He did get to see these little podiums each of them were on, which is…sorta interesting. Honchkrow eyes the pieces with a blank stare.

"Do you know what The Sea is?" She remarks, gesturing at the blue shards with her glass hand. They look damp in the Orb-Chandelier light.

Honchkrow raises an eyebrow.

"I've read it in letters. I know the Sea isn't a sea in the sense it's a body of water.." He answers. "No one in my family travels by water. I try not to concern myself with it."

"Personally it fascinates me. It's connected to dungeons, I'll let you know that much. Too many good men have lost their minds dedicating their life to finding its secrets." She finishes her glass, pausing. "I try not to be too curious, if you know what I mean."

He's been alive too long to not have known about The Sea. It's been a thing, it's been around long enough for people like him to just learn to live with its existence. It's something so vast, so all-encompassing. He couldn't even begin to understand what it was.

It's a simple fairytale, Honchkrow reminds himself, maybe there's a great beast in the waters? Nothing can be worth waking it up.

"I know what you mean." He flatly states.

"You have your head in the right place, Honchkrow. No one has any idea of how it formed, no one understands The Sea. There's theories, of course." The winged historian smiles at the shards. "What you're looking at is mine. The pieces of clay plate belonged to something with control over water, it doesn't make the person who wields it all powerful - nothing like that, it just manipulates water. And it's been broken for a very long time."

"Where did you find it?" He entertains her.

"There was once a place called Destiny Tower, which is supposedly one of the most anomalous dungeons we have ever known of. In its ruins, a team of explorers found these shards which can create water and manipulate it. It was found to have been part of a bigger piece."

She holds back a laugh.

"They'd later found out the person who found these shards was intimidating other weaker pokemon into running through the dungeon for him. He had a clean cut path on the bodies of those poor souls to all the goodies lying in the ruins. He was later arrested, and his ill-gotten gains were put on auction. I won them, and they're forever mine."

Her laughter and pride slowly fades away. She sighs dramatically.

"So many people go through the same old dungeons day by day, hoping to unearth old coins or find a long forgotten stash. I wonder how much better we'd be if people cared more about the history of these places than their worth in coins. Good grief, I feel old."

Honchkrow is one of those pokemon she laments; a pokemon only interested in coin treasure brings, not a care for its historical relevance or what mystical powers it may have. The Krow's greed is not without reason.

"Is this the reason why half of your office is a Museum?" he asks.

"Yes indeed! I need somewhere to store all these mystical artifacts before using their godlike powers to take over the world!"

She doesn't miss a second, she laughs at her own jest.

"No, I'm just the rich head of a mailing family who likes her long lost lore. It doesn't make me a power crazy madwoman." She flashes her shiny fangs, red wine still dripping from them. "It's a hobby. Not like those Scholars have the money to afford this."

Her tail swooshes behind her as she sits herself down on a large seat, warming herself by the fire. Honchkrow finally sits down.

"Now before we get to business talk, I have to thank you for discovering the Time Gears here. I've always thought there was some equivalent here on the Dusk Continent, and thankfully, taking them hasn't caused anything other than a Dungeon to go poof."

"You don't have me to thank, Boss. My family found it. A brave young krow got there in the nick of time, got shot out of the sky and watched a Haxorus leave with it." Honchkrow inhales deeply. "I would've had them shadow her if she weren't wearing a badge, but I was more concerned with my boy's health."

"What about your Lucario?" she asks. "Wasn't he going to Pyrite Passage with your Krows?"

"No, I had him do some off the page work. The kind we don't talk about. Somebody, who may or may not have explorer affiliations, was gonna sell us stolen products for cheap. Bisharp had his pawns help with the break in part, Lucario was supposed to pick up the package." Honchkrow looks back at the wine rack. "Considering we're not all sipping Enigma Wine you can assume how well that went."

He'll be rotting inside a bastille, where men who treat their family like disposable tools belong. And the badge is going to keep curious eyes well away from his Krows. The little riolu from the Sundown Guild sure delivered.

"It won't come to bite us, right?"

"Of course not, I have assured it won't."

She takes one big sip from her glass, then clacks it down on a table.

"I don't say favorites because pitting my two agents against eachother is a bad idea, but the way you treat my interests and your murder's safety with the same importance is why I keep you on your job." The Noivern holds her wings together, folding her claws over each other. "I'm sure you're not here just to brag. C'mon and tell me what you need."

His feathers plume up in anticipation. Here goes.

"I need land, a berry estate. That's what I want. Partial ownership of a Chesto Winery or any means to get large shipments of Chesto at a significant discount would make the lives of my 'Krows much easier." His feathers ever so slightly ruffle with anxiety. "They tire, those poor things, they're important to keeping this continent together so I can't afford to give them too long of a break. Chesto is going to make their runs a lot safer, it could theoretically keep them awake to do more, but I don't want to give them more work. I want them to be safe."

Just cheap, constant Chesto Wine would be of great use. But if he actually gets ownership of a winery, then he'll have two of his biggest wishes fulfilled in a single go. His family can have a place to call their own other than the stuffy dormitories above. This is the best call.

"This is what I want. In return, I'll get you what you're looking for. I already have the location of another Time Gear and I'll have it here for you in less than two days." He leans forwards. "I'm going with a fourth of my 'Krows tonight, they already know about my plan. They want what I want too. We'll be back before anyone feels our absence."

There is a pause as the Noivern stews in contemplative silence. The feathers of Honchkrow's back remain standing. He can feel his legs weaken, but he refuses to look away.

"If you wanted to join the hunt, I was going to announce a few rules and stipulations this morning for all who partake in this bounty. You could always wait."

"No, I'm leaving now."

"Don't you care about getting paid for your bounty?" She tilts her gaze.

"I want only what's best for the family. Make it happen."

"I don't think my kind is built for marathons." Lucario groans.

"Not many peoples except for maybe Zebstrika and Rapidash are." Masters tosses Lucario a bottle. He barely catches it. "Have some chesto, we're almost there."

Lucario pops off the cork and lets it pour down. The dry, throat-strangling taste is the kick he needs to dull the fatigue, but nothing short of an eight hour sleep or a hit of adrenaline's going to make it go away for good. Serves him right for saying they could make it to the Winery early if they wanted to. Walking through this forest is slowly destroying him, his exhausted mind's starting to see every nook and shape in the dark as a feral lurking in wait. He can barely see past Masters' flames.

"In how long? And what do we do when we get there?"

"If the winery isn't abandoned, we kindly ask for it. If it isn't, we just take it." He's looking at the scrap of canvas he drew in that weird state. "If the map isn't wrong then we have an hour before we get there, maybe less. You're quite quick on your feet, you know that?"

"I wish I wasn't." Lucario grunts. "You seem like a million poke. Say, can you carry me when I inevitably pass out?"

"I'm not immune to exhaustion, Lucario." Masters shakes his head. "I can still feel my legs getting tired. It's less of a painful sensation, more like watching a barrel slowly drain. The only sense of urgency I feel is what my mind tells me. And my mind says I can handle walking an hour or two more."

"Well good for you, mister ghost." Lucario finishes the chesto, throwing it behind him. "How'd you end up like that anyways? I might consider ghostdom myself."

Masters glances from under his plumed hat. His smile is no more.

"We're almost there."

He spits a ball of purple flame into his palm then slams it into one of the cage-looking things on his hips. They're lanterns, and he hands Lucario one whilst he ignites the other. With the lantern's spectral light he can see little shapes in the trees above: Colbur Berries, countless numbers of them. If he didn't have a light he would've mistaken them for funny looking pinecones.

"Almost? We're practically here." Lucario motions at Master's bandoliers. "Hey, 'M, do you still have that drawing?"

He pulls out a rolled up paper then tosses it. Lucario catches it, instantly examining the drawing under the lantern's glow. The berry's the same. When he lowers the paper he can see the shadow of a farmhouse looming ahead, the time gear is somewhere behind it. There's also this hoard above it.

Pidgeys? Spearows? It's hard to tell from the flying squiggles meant to represent these pokemon.. If it's Murkrow he'd have heard them squawking overhead. They're not exactly silent hunters, they're workmen, doing boring jobs for the Dusk Continent. He hands the drawing back as they stop.

"It looks to be the house." Masters says, looking out across the field of evenly-dispersed trees. "There's an outdoor stage out there, a lamp post too. Almost reminds me of that tavern."

Lucario tries to get a look of what the Typhlosion's on about, all he sees are the four floating orbs belonging to a lamp post. He rubs his eyes.

"Yeah I don't see a thing." Lucario glances up at the sky. "It's a new moon too. You wonder if whoever's there is expecting us? They're burning fuel leaving those lamps on."

"I don't know." Masters steps forward, leading the way. "What happens if they already have it?"

It should be obvious. They're far out from a local settlement, a bit off the beaten path. There's a whole forest to swallow the sounds of a scuffle.

"Ask nicely, if they refuse then we fight for it." Lucario scoffs. "There's no guild for miles around here. Unless the ferals suddenly grow brains, no one is gonna hear what goes down. We'd be stupid not to expect a fight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Masters frowns.

A lot of berry orchards were relatively the same, isolated little places just off the beaten road, and so when they step out in front of the home a foul smell of deja vu overwhelms Lucario. Instead of a cart, there's this big stage with a bunch of cheap chairs everywheres. Fog rolls in from the nearby basin, covering the gravel with an icy cool cloud.

There's one light near the storehouse, one light near the actual house. Other than the big a-shaped roofs orchards are known for, the home is small and uninspired. There's maybe two rooms in there max. The storehouse on the other hand is a monolith of carpentry, two stories - each story looking to be about four Lucarios in total, encased with a huge u-shaped roof. A fading lamp sits outside the door on a pillar of crates. The sliding door is open by a crack.

They exchange a look, then ceep towards the open door, passing under the four lights of the central lamp post. Masters braces next to the door with Lucario following behind. The Typhlosion's eyes light up when he sees the crate it's own. Colbur berries, tonnes of them, a recent harvest too. Masters not so subtly sticks his hand in the pile. He shushes Lucario.

As if he'd tell.

He pulls out the purple flame from his lantern. Masters puts a hand on the door. He takes a breath.

Then it opens wide as a bright yellow, big tailed creature slumps out of the door. It struggles to scitter away on its legs, but Masters freezes them with his glare, holding the purple flame up to their eyes. The amount of restraint it must've taken to not let his Infernal Parade rip loose is something Lucario will never have.

"Calm down." Masters speaks in an authoritative tone. "Are you injured?"

"Y-Yes." the yellow creature responds, grasping for its face. There's a crazed look in their eyes. "I can barely feel my legs. I-I don't understand, I wasn't supposed to evolve until…"

"What are you supposed to be?" Lucario interrupts.

"Abra, or was Abra." They groan in pain, pulling at the hairs on their head. "My head, my head! It hurts!"

"You evolved, most people do that at some point, it's called growing up." Masters offers them a hand. "You'll be okay. Maybe you got some cramps."

"No, I won't be okay! I need to get out of here - ow!" There's a loud snapping sound, and the yellow fur along its body begins to bleach white, some of which falls right out before the duo's. Their voice rapidly deepens. "I need to go, I need to go!"

Lucario steps forwards, and a hand from Masters stops him. The yellow creature thanks them with a nod as they book it, going as fast as their ill-adjusted legs can take them. All the while their pale white fur begins to fade away as a youthful yellow grows over them. They speed up more and more, until their legs can't support them and they crumble into the road near the foggy woods.

"Weird." Masters mutters.

"Was evolution always like that?" Lucario ponders out loud. "I don't remember mine."

"No, that wasn't normal." Masters puts a hand on the door. "Let's get to the bottom of this, shall we?"

Lucario nods, and with his permission Masters fully throws open the door, stepping foot with the flame held aloft. What he sees is unlike anything else.

Hundreds, if not thousands of discarded shells of metapod and silcoons are stacked as high as this barn's giant ceiling. The sight makes Masters go pale, the smell nearly causing Lucario to lose his dinner.

"Gah!" Lucario drops his purple lantern, plugging his nose.. "Close that thing!"

Masters puts both hands onto the handle, the fire scorching a hole through the door. He pulls it shut with all the force he can muster-

CRUNCH! A caterpie has gotten itself stuck in the doorway! The feral squirms around, letting out clicking bug-type noises as it tries to unstick itself. The door's jammed by it's body! Masters tries to kick out of the doorway only to hit his toe on a gooey dense shell, as the caterpie morphs into a stationary metapod right before their eyes. Lucario puts both his hands on the handle as well, and rips it towards. There's a second, awful crunch, and a fully grown Butterfree flies out of the Metapod right before their eyes - narrowly escaping a demise via barn door.

"Hey, you would've crushed that poor thing!" Masters shouts.

"Either I crush it or we wake up the whole hive that's in there!" Lucario pants. "I don't wanna fight fifty ferals in a go! We're here for the gear, not for a fight! You hear?"

Before Masters can lament further there's a rustle in the distance. They both see the body of a caterpie fall right out the sky into the trees. That's two pokemon, two pokemon who forcibly evolved around them. There's a sense of urgency as Masters snaps back around.

"Okay, we go find the gear -"

"And?"

A voice aged and refined through years of commanding, squawks from above them. Lucario grabs his lantern off the ground and spins up an Aura Sphere on instinct. Masters spits out another flame, holding it in hand. Lucario doesn't see a thing in this pitch darkness.

"What did you say you were going to do if someone already had it? Fight them? You realize you're surrounded, son."

Son? Wait, he recognizes the drawl.. A cold shiver shoots through his bones.

"Keep yourself steady, Lucario." Masters takes notice. "Can you see him?"

"No. They're basically invisible in the night. I know these things!" Lucario's eyes turn the lamppost, a glowing beacon of safety. "If this guy tries anything, run to the light post."

"This guy?" The voice guffaws from up high. "We know eachother Lucario. Without me you wouldn't have stumbled onto the gear, and without you I wouldn't know how much these things were really worth."

"How'd you know about the one in Pyrite Passage?" Lucario barks. "Who snitched, huh?"

"Long story. I'm sure your friend would love to know how you left one of your family members to perish out there as he was begging and screaming for your help." His voice turns its attention to Masters. "I've nurtured his career since the moment he joined my Family, protected him, offered him safety. And the moment the promise of treasure rears its head, he would rather let his siblings die than let a coin slip."

"How much do you have on your head after getting caught impersonating a guildmate? Ten Thousand, Twenty Thousand? I wanted you locked up in a bastille, where treasonous scum like you belong."

"You won't be having this gear, neither will your friend. If he's the wiser he'll leave you to get your just deserts and you, traitor, aren't going to live to see tomorrow's light."

Sweat is pouring down Lucario's face, he can barely breathe. Addrealine is already kicking in and he's ready to do whatever it takes to get out, Masters or not. The Typhlosion's head is in the night sky, glaring at the source of the voice.

"What happens if I say yes to leaving Lucario here?" Masters speaks.

Lucario's heart sinks into his stomach.

"I'll let you go." Honchkrow sighs. "I can't promise you coins, I'm not hunting these gears for the money. I always keep my family's interest in mind, and you leaving is one less danger they have to face."

One less danger? They're surrounded, because of course they are, Honchkrow has got his cronies all perched up out of sight of Lucario. They've been planning this.

"How's you getting hold of those gears going to help your partners?" Masters continues. "If you're not going to sell them, then what are they worth to you?"

"The gear is a bargaining chip. When I return it for what I want, I will retire from this deadly game immediately. We will never meet again."

Masters looks down. An argument plays across his face, and smoke plumes out of his nostrils as he takes a deep, decisive breath. He grips the flame in his hand tight.

"Good. I look forward to your early retirement!"

A confused "what?" barely escapes Honchkrow's beak as a purple, amorphous flare is thrown straight for him, bursting into a shower of spectral light. There's a high pitched squawk, and a Murkrow crumbles off the roof onto the gravelly earth. Honchkrow yells as numerous tiny wings flutter in the dark around Lucario.

"Swarm them! Take them down!"

Dozens of wings careen through the air, descending straight for the duo. Lucario and Masters burst towards the post. The Typhlosion throws a second fire behind them. Whoever it hit, it wasn't Honchkrow.

"He's using his Murkow as shields!" Masters calls out. "You need to hit The Boss with an Aura Sphere, Infernal Parade only tracks so much! If you can knock him out of the sky then we can jump him when he's down!"

"Why Aura Sphere?" Lucario shouts, he can hear a beak slamming into the Typhlosion behind him, followed by the snap of a Thunder Punch putting them to sleep. "Those 'Krows know what they signed up for! Just roast them for Winter's sake!"

"That's a waste of life and you know it! I can side with a criminal but I'm not going to do criminal acts!"

Masters is furious. So was he, Lucario's itching to throw an Aura Sphere into someone's face. He makes it to the pole, then reaches out. If only he had looked down.

It's much too late for him to stop himself. Just as his fingers are about to touch the metal Lucario sees something in the fog at the bottom: something yellow, large and bursting at its seams. Four blast seeds are tied at the base while the pole has been loosened. They were counting on him rushing to the light, because of course they were.

His body careens right into the pole, sending the four globes of fire down onto the blast seeds. Lucario screams, Masters tackles him.

FWOOSH!

A ball of fire rumbles overhead, the fire-type's body shields the worst of the blast but a few licks of explosive flames creep through and burn the fur off of Lucario's flesh. Both pokemon climb back onto their feet. Laughter squawks from up high.

"The Boss brought you up in this world!"The voice is high pitched, belonging to one of the many Murkrow. "He knows your every strength, and every weakness! He told me everything!"

The blast seeds spewed in every direction, sending fire into the fields, onto the stage and the houses. This is going to get out of hand fast. If he can't see them through the night, good luck spotting them through a forest of smoke! He hasn't even gotten a hit in!

"Go!" Masters shouts, pushing Lucario's chest. "Get to somewhere they can't hit you! Let the fire smoke them out!"

Two Murkrow come swooping down in unison. Masters bops one on its beak with a Thunder Punch. Before he can land a hit on the other it smacks its talons across his face with a mean Sucker Punch, hitting the phantom hard with dark-type energy. Lucario books into the forest as he hears punch after punch rip into these birds.

"Look at him go!" That one Murkrow keeps talking. "He was always going to leave you, stupid rodent!"

Lucario throws himself behind the first big tree for cover. He made it somehow! Lucario blindly fires above the Master's head, missing one of the dozens of Murkrow. He begins spinning up another as a voice calls from behind.

"N-No!" Abra speaks, their eyes shut tight. "Get away from here! I can already feel it on you!"

Lucario drops the lantern when he takes a look. .White fur has grown all over his hand, replacing the dark blues with its sickly pale tincutre. The Aura Sphere in his hand slips out as his fingers weaken, wrinkling, the muscles barely keeping the metal bones in there together. First the creepy evolving pokemon, second the Blast Seeds, now this? Lucario looks between his boney hand and the Abra in horror

"What's happening to me!?"

"I don't know, but there's a connection between us, I can sense it." Abra points towards them, seemingly able to move normally. "The closer you stay to me, the more that fur of yours turns white! The older you become! Whatever's causing this is using us!"

Everything clicks together. This is the work of the gear found here, the one Honchkrow had beaten them to the punch with. Where Lucario was once blessed with some kind of ability, so was Honchkrow, and this has something to do with what's happening here. Could it be that he has the power to age people?

His hair begins to fall off in its entirety, revealing a pink, sagging flesh under it.. Abra on the other hand, rises with youthful energy, grabbing the feral bug-type by its tail and dragging it down the road.

As soon as he's a distance away the aging stops.. He's fine aside from this extremely old looking arm. He only needs one to throw Aura spheres, he can manage. Lucario can't be here however, he's not doing any favors for Masters. No matter how good Masters was, it's still three or so dozen dark types against a phantom. Lucario exits the treeline, shouting.

"Abra figured it out! It's aging! Honchkrow's gear is aging living creatures!"

Just as he gets out those words, a Murkrow swoops down, hitting his sides with a wing attack. His one good arm tries to pummel it with a blind barrage of bullet punches, but only one connects, doing nowhere near the damage to put the flying type down and buying him the second he needs to get back to Masters, looking much, much worse for wear.

"I guess that makes me immune!" Masters laughs, purple juices seeping out of his mouth. "This colbur tastes awful. Got any more ideas?"

"No? Just keep me away from living things." Lucario says, summoning up a club in his good hand. A swarm of invisible wings overhead are preparing their next assault. "We just keep wearing them down till Honchkrow shows his face! I don't care how many of these stupid Krows it takes to get to him!"

"Oh good! Consider us on the same page. I've changed my sentiment after the fifth one went after my eyes.."

Two Murkrow careen from above. A quick one two of thunderpunch knocks them to the floor, whilst Lucario's heel puts them to sleep. Masters is exceptionally good at this. Just how experienced was he?

"I got a plan, Lucario." Masters calls back. "It involves water."

"Water? You're a fire-type!"

"I know!"

Masters doesn't wait for permission, he sprints away from the pole, going for the lake past the farmhouse. The spectral, wisping fires on his back give Lucario the cover to run in his shadow, dragging his Bone Rush through the dirt like it's fifty pounds of steel. The lieutenant overhead is none too impressed.

"Save your strength! They're going for the water! They're gonna trap themselves!" The Murkrow chortles. "Let them get in, wait for them to surface and attack as one!"

He leads him past a fence towards the basin. The broken sigils of a time gear loom overhead illuminating the water, however little, in a crimson glow. Both pokemon race down a short dock, and Masters' grabs Lucario's shoulder, throwing them into the abyss. They don't sink. The tremendous splash their bodies made falling into the lake surfaces the water around them, creating a barricade of distorted water all around them. It's just like the lake!

The flutter of wings chasing them pause. Masters gets him to his feet, and whispers.

"You know what to do, Lucario."

"I do?"

Masters simply taps the glowing bone rush in his good hand. Lucario gulps.

"They're trapped!" The Murkrow calls out, a cacophony of wings flutters land onto the trees surrounding the basin. There's too many for him to count.. "On the count of three, we all go in! One!"

Lucario holds the Bone Rush up over his head, readying for the one-armed swing of his life.

"Two!"

"Ready?" Masters whisper, lightning forming in his fists. Lucario nods slowly.

"Three!"

With an unseen drop of a wing dozens of Murkrow soar down from their perches, careening towards the trapped pokemon like featherly missiles. Lucario closes his eyes, hearing the whistling beneath their wings coming closer and closer. Master's hand rests on his, waiting with him, his superior night vision counting down.

"Now!" Masters shouts, and Lucario slams the bone gavel down - summoning a tidal wave of distorted water - coating every single Murkrow who is gunning them.

"What?"

The loud-mouth shouts into his ears, and Lucario opens his eyes to see a coagulated mass of frozen water and Murkrow. All of whom squawk in despair, trying to break free of their bonds to no avail. The one atop of the formation wears an empty bottle around their neck. They're the one screaming orders right now.

"Move, move!" It shouts. "It's just ice! Break out already!"

There's a loud crackle, and the one atop shrieks in terror. The Typhlosion winds up his fists, punching the air, building a current of violet lightning through his fingertips.

"No, no! Stop-"

The lieutenant's voice instantly drowns in the squawks of screaming Murkrow. Masters unleashes blow after blow in the watery structure, causing lightning to rupture through every soul trapped within. One after one they fall unconscious till the entire structure is lit ablaze, reeking of fried lost souls. One final elbow shatters the structure, and many Murkrow plummet to the water's surface like black, feathery hailstones. The Family, or at least a substantial chunk of them, was done for.

But the Patriarch still stands. A horrid caw rings above Lucario, and he hears the remaining forces gather around, once again out of reach.

"Make no mistake, you are truly and deeply trapped." Honchkrow booms from afar. "Try as you may, we'll wait you out."

There's not a single second of doubt or guesswork, Lucario knows what's about to happen, he only needs to look at his bad arm to see it creeping up his shoulder then to his chest.. He's aging again, faster than ever before. His muscles weaken in his limbs, his throat becomes as dry as the desert, and his lungs rage against their metallic cage.

"We need to get away from each other!" Lucario croaks, he sounds like a broken lute. "Get as far away as we can!"

Lucario leaps out of the crater of distorted water, but when he lands, his legs crumble into a useless pile. The flutter of wings sounds out all around him as the last of Honchkrow's army dives for him. Lucario is able to bat one aside with a bullet punch, but the rest descend into him, wings and beaks eating into his soft, aging flesh. He screams out, and Masters answers, batting them off with his fists.

They're right back where they started, they haven't separated off. Lucario's fur is falling off like leaves on a tree, his arms can barely move. It's happening too quickly for him to counteract and as he rises to his feet he falls apart, Masters catching him.

"You're not going to last, son."

Lucario can't see him, he just knows Honchkrow is somewhere above him. No matter how hard he tries to lock onto the sound, his eyes can't catch a glimpse of the avian in the night. His one trick is useless. Masters holds him close, the flames on his chest warm Lucario's deteriorating body.

"My ability draws on the living. I see a second shadow in every person, like a hand counting down their years. I can age something to give healing youth to another, but I can't make anything younger than what it was when I first saw it. Those bug types in the shed were using this gear's presence to evolve rapidly. I simply gained control of that power."

Holding Lucario's hand, Masters leans into Lucario's ear, whispering.

"Can you get him? Can you create an Aura Sphere?"

Lucario opens up his injured hand, and slowly, a spinning ball of energy starts to form. It glows bright blue amidst a sea of black. His fingers feel like there's nails being dug through them, keeping his hand open hurts.

"With him standing at your side I have an infinite source of life and years to draw from." Honchkrow continues. "He has no limit, truly. If only I could be so lucky. Your friend is slowly killing you, son."

"I can't see him." Lucario mutters out. "I-can't get a lock on him. I'm a fraud, 'M. I can't read auras worth a damn, I've scammed people my entire life! I can't!"

His bones crick, the sensation in his legs leaves, he can barely keep his eyelids from falling. Regardless, Masters keeps his palm wide open - he's not going to let the aura fizzle out. Lucario looks up, their eyes meet.

Hidden in darkness, his eyes are solem and stern. It's at this moment he sees something he didn't notice. He has a note rolled up into his hat, a memoir, or perhaps a scarf from his youth. It purposefully is made of a dark material to blend in with his garments. Whatever it is, he keeps it close to him - closer than the gear swaying from his neck..

"You're no fraud." Masters whispers to him. "Just close your eyes, take a breath, trust me."

And so, Lucario takes a deep breath, then shuts his eyes for a final time.

Waiting through what seems like decades of silence, the blind old Lucario finally surfaces. Sight, at least not in the sense any other pokemon would call it, returns. His whole world is illuminated in shades of blue. Dozens of auras, all each its own color, shine above his head. Many are small, full of youth and ambition. Then there was one, bright red, compassionate and larger than any in the sky. He can see Honchkrow.

He clenches the Aura Sphere with his remaining strength, then with the help of Masters supporting his deteriorating body, unleashes it. A bright blue flash of Aura erupts in his sixth sense as an arrow of pure spirit flies straight towards its red mark.

"Protect me!" he shouts as several Murkrow careen to his aid.

No matter how many bodies he puts between himself however, the sphere harmlessly rolls off of the masses of Murkrow. He has Honchkrow's Aura, he has him within his sights, Aura Sphere cannot miss under these conditions. And fruitless struggle after struggle, flying and tossing Murkrow to the fire - it finally hits its intended vector.

The aura drills straight into Honchkrow, plucking out his feathers, spinning deeper and deeper into his face till it erupts into a scintillating hail of blues. Honchkrow comes plummeting, hitting the water's solid surface with a splat. His eyes widen in terror as Masters descends upon him.

"Take the gear!" Honchkrow bleats, revealing the gear in his talons. "You can have it! You've won!"

"Really now?" Masters steps forwards, the basin shaking with each of his steps. The fire rising from his back is as bright as the sun. "After all you've done for your family, after all they've done to let you get your hands on it, you're gonna just leave it! You had your chance to leave when we got here!"

Masters steps over the gear, his anger could turn this lake into steam. He's standing over Honchkrow like a monolith of flame.

"I don't take life like you do." Masters clenches his fists, his ghostly eyes shine with fury. Crackles of energy travel between his knuckles. "But I did promise you an early retirement, and I'll deliver!"

Honchkrow reaches for the gear, and meets with Master's fists. Lightning cracks, thunder booms. Punch after punch wears down Honchkrow's pride, the lightning ripping through him turns his delicate hat into a searing pile of plumage. And one, great, final blow sends Honchkrow to the shore. What little remains of Honchkrow's forces leave when they see their don as a quivering, pathetic mess.

The breath Masters takes could shake the earth. He adjusts his hat, making sure to stuff the rolled up thing back under the metal, and he plucks the gear off the ground - adding it to their collection. Masters drags the decrepit Lucario out of the corrupted basin. Then, he feels something cold in his hand.

"Take it." Masters closes the gear around Lucario's fists. "Congrats on graduating."

The iron feels colder than it's ever felt before. He's lost it twice, spent so much time chasing it down, then all of a sudden Masters gives it to him after muttering something about graduation. With it in his hand, he sees a predominant, second shadow under Masters' feet. It appears broken.

If this is no different than the gear he had once before, then by holding this he could manipulate something - in this case - the ages of pokemon around him. Gripping it tightly in his hand, he thinks of the shadow, then is witness to a wave of youth washing over his arm. His muscles are back to where they were, his fur, not nearly as much.

While words couldn't express how thankful he was at this moment, he was still alive. For all his faults, his record and everything else, this man deemed him worthy of saving.

It's a feeling the criminal can't put into words.