They walk for a long while since Jace agreed to the new condition to raise Millie until she can be reunited with Daisy on the surface. It's been silent since Layla needed time to flush out complicated emotions. She squeezes Mark's hand tightly throughout. He doesn't hesitate to squeeze back, feeling how shaken she is underneath.
Once they're past the monochrome mineral veins and return to drab brown corridors, her claw shifts to his forearm. A smile worms its back onto her face. A little later, she leans forward to look past Mark's side - Mark's between him and Layla, likely on purpose.
"Alright, Jace! You ready to hear the rules?" she asks.
Jace nestles the still-sleeping Millie between both arms. She's been turning more, the sleep spore losing its effect. He scoots forward so he can look back at Layla. "Yes!"
"Great! First: we don't do any killing unless absolutely necessary. Emphasis on the 'absolute'. If you think they'll kill you later, just put up with it."
"What?" he says. Concern spreads across his face.
Her elbow bumps Mark's side. "I know! But this guy wouldn't join otherwise, and he's important. But I don't know Jace, having morals sounds kinda fun, don't you think? If not badass? You know what I mean?"
"What about Lucia's people?"
"Uh…" her eyes shift to Mark's.
His brow furrows. "No."
"'No,'" she says, imitating Mark's annoyed expression. "Well there you go. Sorry, love!"
Jace's face grows worried. In a quiet voice directed at Mark, he asks "Are you sure? You do know what they do, right Mark?"
"Ugh," Mark mutters.
"I do!" Layla says. "I want them to die too but this guy doesn't allow it, okay? On the flip side, we haven't killed any of your guys since he joined, okay? Pretty fair!"
He growls but his eyes shift as he considers. "If you've been sparing our guys then fine. Although please don't suggest we're equal to Lucia's guild again, okay?"
Layla carelessly nods. "Mm-hmm!"
There's a bit of awkward silence but eventually Jace's scowl disappears. "What about dungeon Pokemon, though?"
Layla glances at her partner again. He places a hand on his chin. He still remembers the Noivern's throat wiggle as he pressed the broken shaft against it. "Let's... try not to."
She looks to the new member once more. "'Let's try not to!' works for you?"
Jace shrugs. "Eh."
"Okay! That's settled. So then, this is how operations will go!" Layla continues. She straightens her back just a bit but still tries to past Mark. "If all three of us focus on the same mission all the time, we won't earn enough to keep up with costs, so I'll have you do missions while I and Mark do our's together, and once he's good enough, all three of us will earn independently. Once we stockpiled enough, we'll explore any place that interests us, or any leads we have. That good?"
Jace nods. "Mmm-hmm!"
"And of course, for the short term, we'll search around where we got the key while you deliver, uh, 'home.' If we find something, we'll tell you."
"Yup."
"How long will that take?" she asks.
"Hmm…" he thinks about this. "It'll take us about two days to get home, but I'll probably need some time to help her adjust to her new home. So, hm…"
"Just find us in Myla's Cafe when you're ready, okay?" She lurches forward. Mark leans back clumsily to let her see past him. His partner smirks wide. "One last requirement. You gotta introduce me to the Salazzle someday!"
Both men turn their heads to her.
"What?" she says, looking between the two. She's cute! Or are they a guy, I thought their pheromones were working on me?!"
"Transwoman. So yeah their pheromones would be working on you."
"Aah," Layla says.
And I guess that's why I didn't notice the pheromones. Mark thinks.
"What's her name?" she continues.
"She's Raquel. And she's already dating a Lopunny who can get kinda jealous. At least to strangers…"
Layls's grin grows wider and her eyes widen with a hopeful gleam. "No way! Introduce me to them both?"
The newcomer laughs. "Your rules. Don't get too hopeful about anything, though."
Wait, does this mean male Salazzle exist? Mark realizes. He blinks and looks to the two. What are they talking about?
She giggles. The rest of the walk is in much higher spirits, a relief from the roller coaster today has been. Layla ends up asking more about Jace's boyfriend. Another Quilava, in fact. She asks about how long they've been together, how and they get along - she seems curious about the other one who'll take care of Millie. The questions end up getting more invasive though, if not risque. Jace either doesn't notice or is actually boldly enjoying answering her. The conversation keeps devolving and Mark ends up blushing lots and hanging his head as the two enthusiastically talk and laugh about their favourite activities.
"Hey, this too much for you?" Layla asks, just noticing her partner. "We can stop if that'll make you feel better. Or, if you're nervous about joining in, just start with saying what's your favourite-"
Jace stops walking, falling behind the pack. "Eh, this is where we part ways, so fun time's over anyways."
A smaller exit is to the side, barely taller than Jace.
Layla salutes him off. "Alright, Jace. Hopefully this team thing can work out. Whenever you come back, just wait around Myla's Cafe in the mornings and try to catch us. It's in the middle of Scrap Town."
"Y-yeah. Looking forward to meeting you" Mark says.
He waves and scoots into the tunnel. "Will do!"
"And make sure to treat Millie well!" Layla shouts.
"Yup!"
The glow of his fire diminishes as he disappears. Layla's lazily waves to him, sighs, and leans against Mark's shoulder.
Mark shifts his shoulder, giving her more room. "What's wrong?"
"I'd still rather she's back with Daisy. I'm still not sure if this is really the right choice."
She starts moving again. The merry demeanor she built up is gone, heads and shoulders now hanging.
Mark takes time to carefully select his words. "It's not wrong we're choosing our own safety in the end of the day. But more importantly, we can't forget we're not abandoning them. This will all be resolved once we find the surface, where they can hide from Merka. We just got to keep our focus on that."
Her expression doesn't change. "Yeah. I'm just worried about how long that'll take."
"And I'm sure she'll find happiness with Jace and Drake. She won't be alone."
"Yeah..." She takes a deep breath and puts her chin up. She deliberately swings her and his arm in a wide arc as she walks. More time later, she turns her head back and asks another question. "Hey Mark, there's something I've been wondering."
"Mmm?"
"How do you do it?"
His brow rises. "Do what?"
"Everything!" She tilts her head down, thinking of examples. "When that Flygon and other Pokemon were on my ass, you didn't have to fight for me! You didn't have to, I don't think I would have. A-and you took on that Monkey mission! What was that? Andy told me about that. Like thank goodness he's a good judge of character but you really weren't worried about how suspicious he was? And the whole Millie's hand thing! How!? How Mark, she lost your hand! A whole fountain of blood and you just fixed it? You were even relaxed when I found you! And then. And then. Today! How were you able to just watch Merka take Millie today? How do you do it? I need to know!" Her breath is light after the rambling.
"What?" Mark tilts his head. "Is it not that normal?"
She lets go of him and holds her head in both arms. "What do you mean, 'not normal!' Do you not fear death or something?!"
He frowns. "N-not really?"
"Aaagh!" Her head cranes downwards and her claws interlock over it.
She stays this way for a while. Mark ends up looking at his torch-carrying hand. He tenses it and watches the muscles flex beneath his skin. It eases him, if only a little.
After she calms down, she says "Mark?"
His eyes stay focused on his backhand as he digs through his memories. There's none. There's his name, he was a young adult, a tall human, male, supposedly decent at school. What about his occupation? Shouldn't he know that too?
"Mark?" she asks once more, more concerned. "I'm sorry about the outburst. I'm envious, especially after everything today. Really, that wasn't fair."
He strains his hand. "I don't know who I am. Or why I am this way. What my past was. What I did. Why I do the things I do. Nothing. And I don't know what is right or wrong or weird or expected l because I have nothing to compare. I thought I was trying to be a good person by not trying to hurt others but maybe I'm just weak. I-"
"No!" Layla says.
"I have no way of knowing. And maybe the surface isn't that different from here. I forgot what it's like living there." His knuckles turn pale.
Layla puts her claw on his shoulder and nudges it. "I don't think anybody here actually wants to kill! I do it cause I don't want to die. I wish I was more like you."
Mark draws out a long breath. His hand eases. "Thanks. I don't really know how I'm not so afraid. But I guess when things get stressful, I keep my breathing steady, and acknowledge that panicking will make things worse."
Her claws keep rubbing his shoulder. She's listening intently, eyes locked on him.
He looks back. "That being said, there is one feeling I can't shake."
"What is it?"
"I think I've witnessed worse, and that's what makes it easier to stay relaxed. Like, everything so far isn't to be afraid, compared to what is actually out there. Like, it's a relief. Healing Millie's hand was rote. Normal. A pushover."
"Mark…"
"But I do worry what could be much worse than everything I've seen so far."
She's silent, rubbing his shoulder gently. Mark stretches his fingers in and out. There is something soothing about his hand, the more he looks at it. He stays focused on it until the cave mouth widens up. The faux stars of Scrap Town peak between the circular caps of treeshrooms like a million candles inside a chasm. He looks up to these instead of his hand. They already make him feel like he's at home.
"Well hey," Layla says once more, looking at the stars with him. "Hopefully something where you woke up can help with your memories."
"Yeah. And hopefully it'll help us find the surface."
She tugs his arm and gives up a warm smile. "Let's get some rest, okay?"
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All of Layla's emotional exhaustion has turned into physical exhaustion and she sleeps before he even says good night. Mark can't drift away, however. Anxiety bubbles up in his stomach. What is right, and what could be more terrifying than the Noivern. His imagination is beat on this, even after what must be hours.
Sleep silently has its way eventually. A purple-and-blue void shifts around and never makes form. Two voices speak in the distance. His own, and one that feels like a friend.
"The sky is gray and the rain is heavy. Do you stick to the plans you already have, or call them off? Do you avoid going outside if at all?"
"I'd just grab an umbrella. You can't help the rain," his own voice responds. "If I had no umbrella, I still wouldn't be bothered walking in the rain.
There's the sound of a pen scratching against paper. Mark continues. "In fact, I find I enjoy sitting on the balcony a bit when it rains. I enjoy it, in a sentimental way"
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It's a weird feeling. It was raining when we buried my father. I can't help but to think of him when it rains. Not of just the burial itself, but also the times he was still around."
"Oh Mark…"
"It's not a bad thing! Life's complicated. We feel sad from time to time but I don't think it's bad that we feel sad once in a while. I think it's even healthy to feel sad here and there. Feeling is what makes us human, and so I end up appreciating that I'm still alive, and that all the people I saved must still be grateful too, even though we'll still die one day."
"Wow. That's, really deep."
"Thanks. But don't worry about it, professor. Plus, I also end up thinking about all the good times I had with my father anyways, so the feeling is more bittersweet. He's who inspired me to join the military, you know?"
"Mmm."
"Yeah." He pauses. "How many more questions do we have?"
"We're halfway done. Do you want to take a break?"
"Yeah, sure. Thank you."
The voices become hazy and echoey as the void fades away. He briefly hears the discombobulated voice of a third person.
Everything turns dark.
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Layla pulls Mark out of bed with excited vigour and she rushes them through the morning routine. It's all a blur to Mark as he's detached from reality while he combs his mind for any professor he may remember. Nothing comes, so he goes through a list of every name he knows while they head to the cafe and eat breakfast. Even his partner is tuned out, despite excitedly speculating all the dark human magic waiting for them to discover. He nods along to be polite - she herself is too lost to notice Mark's lack of presence.
He reaches all names starting with N once they're jogging into the tunnels but he gives up. Not one of them feels reminiscent of a professor's name and he's getting lost forgetting names and going back too often. Plus, he's actually awake now. Should he tell Layla about the professor? What stops him is he still doesn't know if they're real.
He ends up forgetting about the whole topic as they get further into the caves. He carries both torches while Layla leads with the map held in front of her. The tunnels are more varied than before: they go through a huge slanted floor with fields of stalagmites coming from the ground, tight tunnels barely wider than them but so tall their torch don't reach the top, and tunnels with a mess of interweaving streams spewing out of the walls and ceilings.
No Pokemon are seen or heard the entire journey. Even mushrooms are found only between long stretches, and each had a stunted size and emits a nauseating ordour. No need to ask if they could eat them. The only life to find here is their footsteps echoing behind them.
Layla angles the map. "Hey, this is weird."
"Hmm, what?"
She stops and rotates both her head and the map the other way. The corner she looks at is more intricate than a spider's web. "This map is wrong."
"Huh?" he says. "Are we lost?"
"No, we can backtrack. We are heading for an uncharted place and nobody has a reason to go this far deep. I think Andy just got lazy making this." She chuckles.
They retrace their steps. Layla walks up and down a few adjacent tunnels to make sure they're lined up with the map once again. She picks a new path that should be more complete, but they still need to walk back as they walk off the map. This happens more the farther in they get, and each mistake makes her slower with caution.
She plants her face in the map once they meet the 100th crossroads. "I can't find an uncharted place!"
"Well, you were able to find me the first time."
Her head jerks the other way. "By accident! I was running away, trying to get lost!" She stretches the map to flatten it so more light can reach it. She stares at it a bit more. "The fact it's up a cliff complicates everything. Heck, I don't even know if we're at the right level! These tunnels pass above and below each other!"
Mark leans in and pretends to know where to look. "So, what do we do?"
"Eh. We'll just have to keep going. It took Lucia days to find you after all and so it might be that way for us as well." She rolls the map back up and stuffs it under her arm. "Still, I'll just use my gut. 'Where would I go if I was running for my life', y'know? Plus, I know for sure I went past here when I was running from them." She grabs her own torch from Mark and leads once more, looking up just as often as she does around.
"It does make me wonder how that one Mystery Dungeon we found was formed. How did so many Pokemon find themselves so far in?" she adds. He has no answers.
The two become absorbed in exploring the lifeless caves.
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Much more time passes. Likely half the day, Mark reasons. He would worry about being lost if it weren't for Layla humming like she's strolling in a garden. She only checks the map periodically, and less so the deeper in they are.
"Hey. This place looks familiar," she says. She holds her torch up high and cranes her head upwards. "I made a lot of distance between myself and them so I was thinking, 'hey, I'd get away if I climb up. They wouldn't look that way.'"
Her pace is slow and she scans the ceiling. It rolls upward in a graceful curve. "I was staring up here desperately. I noticed it curled here…." She steps near the wall. A lot of small rocks jut out, forming natural footholds. "And I climbed up here."
She finally stuffs her map into her bag and runs a claw over various ridges. "So Mark, guess you'll have to learn how to climb right here. Think you're ready?"
He looks up. The darkness hiding the top makes it look ginormous. "Did we not bring rope?"
"We're not bitches! I told you this!" She says, chuckling. "Plus, there will be times you don't have rope and need to climb anyways. So, figure it out now!" She fastens her bag tight around her. "It's not that hard, seriously. You were able to climb down and climbing up is just that in reverse. Believe in yourself!"
She crams her torch into her maw and ascends the wall. Mark does the same with his own torch and mimics Layla's movements. It isn't that hard - his claws dig into the surface, adding a lot more grip than he expected. He isn't heavy either and ends up climbing with the same ease he would a ladder. The corners of his lips tug up: he is a cave monster! Could he scramble over the ceiling?
It's a short sensation though as the first lip comes quickly. He hoists himself over, Layla lending a claw to help. An uncomfortable smell comes their way, something like rot but not that pungent. "Alright, we head over to the Gallade."
They travel the short walk that leads to him. He still lies in a dried, red puddle. His skin is washed of colour and deflated, yet not grossly disfigured. It's not even that ghastly. With how little life grows down here, there must not be enough bacteria to decompose corpses properly.
Layla kicks the warrior's side. "Take this!"
"Layla!"
"He's probably the one who wrapped you up in rope!" Kick. "Come on, join the fun!" Kick. "Lucia scum!" She giggles.
He facepalms and shakes his head. He shrugs her off by walking to the cliff the Psychic-type supposedly fell from and getting a head start.
"Hey wait!" she shouts, and she's up beside him in no time, torch in her mouth once more. "Wah are you ooin ii-e-he-e-ee ooo-in i-ouh ee?"
"Wah?!"
But she just laughs and rushes up to the top. "Pfft," and another smile grows on his face, before seeing if she can beat her. He can't catch up however and ends up dragging himself over the top alone. The massacre reveals itself.
He double-takes, shocked by how visceral their fight was. A Reuniculus and a Magmar lie in the middle while a Machamp rests against a wall. The dirt around them is vibrant red in a wide radius. Streaks stain down the sides from wide gashes and ugly scorch on their body. He angles his head away before he looks inside their injuries.
Crimson snakes up to the fighting type, who must have dragged herself there knowing she was dying. With no blood inside her but bacteria not doing their job, her skin is an eerie, pearly white. Its head is gone.
"Wait," Layla says. She carefully approaches the corpse. "She wasn't missing her head last time."
He follows closely behind her. Grim as it is, it is the violence Mark has come to expect. The folded piece of paper lying on her chest wasn't, though.
"Was there a note there either?" he asks.
"Nope." She picks it up by the corner and gently shakes to unfold it. "Uh, Mark, can you read it?"
She faces it to him. It's English, written in blood. Mark reads it aloud. "'Anthropy lives. We know you're human. Turn back and give now, Mark.'"
Dread enters him for the first time since he was bound in rope. He tenses and points his torch to the darkness around him, worried if he's been followed. Layla gets the idea too, going on guard and taking a few steps back to the middle of the tunnel.
His shoulders drop when nobody jumps out at them. Of course not. Despite that, he can't help to realize an assailant could be standing right there a few feet outside where his flame's light washes into black, and he'd have no way to know.
It's been that way the entire time.
"You haven't told anybody you're human, have you?" Layla asks, still alert to her surroundings.
"Only Andy. Although it was in the cafe. I think only Myla picked on us, everybody else looked very distracted. Don't worry, Andy told me not to say anything after that slip-up."
She sighs. "Do you remember who was in the cafe that day?" She relaxes and turns back to him. A stalker would have pounced by now.
"I think there were a couple of monkeys?" He scratches the back of his head. "No, I think that was a different day. Uh… A very sad Machoke. I also remember someone coming in to order from Myla too. Maybe one more? If I saw them again, I'd probably remember."
She shrugs and holds the note in front of her. "Well, whoever knows also knows how to write English." Her eyes narrow. "None of this makes sense, the more I think about it."
"Yeah, they didn't just give the letter to us directly." He leans over her shoulder to read the note again. The letters didn't look written by finger or brush. Some of the writing has dripped to the bottom edge and coloured it.
"What does Anthropy even mean?" she asks.
"It sounds like 'anthropology', maybe it has something to do with history, or humans?"
"Mmm." She folds it up and slips it into her pouch. "More importantly, do they have a way to know if we continue down the tunnel?"
Neither can answer. Mark can't imagine cameras working with every human ruin being as defunct as they are. Of course, the perpetrator could also just be there with them, outside of view.
Or is this a scare tactic? Maybe even an intended helpful warning about danger ahead?
Layla reaches for his arm. He instinctively holds it up for her. "I think we should risk it. I don't want something dumb like this to be what stops us from finding the surface."
"Yeah."
She playfully tugs his arm. "One more problem though, Mark. Left or right?"
"Left!"
They go.
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Mark's unnerved. He's far more aware of the darkness, which traps them in all directions. It's easy to imagine a Pokemon jumping out with a screech. Death and danger are their own things, but the note's prodded at a fear more primal within him. Darkness. Being watched. The unknown.
It's not enough to stop him though. A part of him even sees this as a little thrill. Either way, he stays alert and sticks behind his more relaxed partner.
The tunnel is spacious and the ceiling has become an unnatural perfect arc. Every surface is smooth and wavy, different from the rugged rock he's only seen so far. The brown rock fades to grey the deeper in.
After a while, black boxes are pinned to the apex of the tunnel. They're barely visible against the ceiling far above them. Wires run from each one. Long clear tubes sitting within them reflect their torchlight.
"Hey! Would that alert us to this 'Anthropy' person?" Layla asks.
"I don't think so. They look like they'd be lights. The filaments probably ran out long ago."
"Filaments? Something to worry about?"
He shakes his head. "No, I don't think so, although we should stick to the side in case glass has fallen out."
The walk still goes on. The path is taking a subtle curve. The ancient lights repeat themselves, teasing them that there's something to find. One of them has even fallen off - it's easy to see it is made of the same uncanny blacksteel the ruins of Clear Crystal Chasm have. It looks like a void is trimmed out of the ground, its true shape impossible to tell.
Not much farther, they come to what must be their destination. A long structure sits in the middle of the tunnel, very out-of-place. Much like the lights, it too is a perfect black, no matter how close their torches get to it. He feels like he could just walk into it and end up in an infinite nothing. A black hole made material.
"Am I seeing this right?" Mark asks.
"Yeah. It's blacksteel again, probably an even darker type than the Chasm ruins. Be careful not to walk into it - look at where it meets the ground," she says.
Her casualty assures him the illusionary tear in reality is normal. Even more garishly, a grey screen and blue thumb drive port floats suspended in the air. He walks up to it. Looking at its side reveals its terminal separate from the building. It just blended in with is so well.
"I'll do the honours." Layla deftly plucks the key from her bag and places it in front of the slot. "No going back."
She pushes it in. Nothing happens until she remembers to turn it upside-down, and then there's a click. The screen flares up, hurting their eyes with its brightness. Mark squints to read it. He briefly catches the words "accepted."
Total white engulfs all. The back of his eyes scorch with fierce pain. He screams and drops to the floor in agony, his partner joining him. Burying his face in his arms barely stops the light from sneaking in. Tears roll down his face.
"What is this?!" Layla shouts desperately. "I can't see! Where are you?"
"Close your eyes!" he shouts back. "Try to follow my voice!"
A claw grabs his leg. "It's me! Now what?!"
It's hard to think. The blinding light disorients his sense of direction even as the pain recedes. Red, green, and purple dots dance across his vision, making unrecognizable forms. He opens his eye up the smallest bit he can. He needs to close it immediately as overwhelming agony floods back in, but not before seeing the still pitch-black building with a blinding hole in the middle of it.
Layla's arms wrap around him and she buries her head into the side. "I'm scared, Mark. Answer me!"
"We have to wait. It's all we can do."
Wait they do. Darkness returns to the back of his eyelids. He peeks once more - It's still intense but not so overwhelming he needs to close them again. He slowly works to open his eye wider and wider, blinking plenty. His clinging partner and the bumps of the rock around him come back to view as it becomes obvious the light is coming from inside the building. Turning away from it helps plenty. The tunnel is visible all the way up until it bends out of view, save for the absurdly black light cases. How can blacksteel be that dark?
Layla's eyes are adjusting too. She lets go and stands up with a wobble. "What magic is this?"
"Not magic. Our eyes are just too used to the darkness," Mark says. There's a sense of relief if not stupidity coming to this realization. The tunnel darkens more and its clear the light behind them is becoming more tolerable, although it's still too bright to look at directly. That doesn't stop Layla from turning to it and wincing. "I'm going in!"
"Layla!"
She has her way, walking in with an arm across her eyes. He scurries up and teeters inside too, squinting at the ground to abate the pain. The footsteps of her partner move away from him. He hears a ringing bwong followed by "Ah! I walked into something!"
Below, he makes out gridded white tiles. They're clean save for dirty footprints of a Machamp and Gallade. A chemically clean smell drifts by him as his eyes adjust the rest of the way. He hears Layla scratch her claws on something like glass.
"No, I'm sorry Mark. This is magic. I don't care what you say!"
Mark blinks more. The grid lines stay in view as afterimages even as he looks around. His torch is no longer a torch - the end of it smoulders no brighter than a lit cigarette. He braves looking around.
Layla stumbles around, too impatient to ease her eyes. She runs into a tall, wide tube, making another bwong. "Ugh, what is this?" she says. 24 of these vials line the two sides of the hallway in front of him, each with a handle. Naked humans stand in every second vat, submerged in clear pink liquid and held up by black bars under their shoulders. The other half have their doors swung wide open.
Mark's face opens in disbelief. "What?"
"Mark, say something to me! What is this?" she asks. She knocks against the glass. "What are these Pokemon?"
"Humans," he says. Not entirely though, as he looks at the more. Some have animalistic ears and patches of vibrantly coloured fur. The one in front of Layla has an Absol's horn hanging across her face.
"They're so big!" Layla says, staring up at the woman. "How much food must they eat?"
Mark dazes out. He hazily glazes over each tube as his legs move him down the aisle. Each pair of vats is labeled with a name: The first is "Joseph", the second "Carmichael". He gulps.
A pool of the pink liquid lies among broken glass at the foot of a shattered vat at the very end of the line. His heart sinks. He keeps reading.
"Lulu." "Marshel." "Ameilia".
He approaches the cylinder preceding the broken one. The human in it is the tallest of them all, hair inches below the cap. There are no Pokemon features but scars run over his rugged body in long lines. His right flank is disfigured. And the end of his right arm has a stump where a hand should be.
Tears well up in his eyes. His arms start shaking. He knows who this is.
"Mark?" Layla says softly. He hears her approach behind him. "Who is that?"
She shakes his head and he holds his forehead. His voice is pale. "It's me. I turned into a Sableye here."
Her expression is blank as she nods. She looks up his vat and gets close enough that her nose nearly touches. A hand rests on it. "Wow." She does nothing else.
But Mark knows nothing about the man in front of him. This being a body is just a fact and he forgets what it's like to be him. His body teeters as his brain dizzies itself figuring out what to despair over if it doesn't know what to miss. Was a human body even pleasant? Was there a family he loved?
He covers his mouth. The last thought made him sick - he can't even cry over the parents he lost without his memories of them He looks at the other vat to get away from it.
The bars that hold other human bodies are here too, although much closer to the ground, where his shoulders would have been. Some of the pink liquid collects at the bottom where the glass's cracks don't reach.
Her partner knocks on the glass featuring his body to no avail. He ignores it and gets closer, splashing the fluid with his foot. He cranes his head up. There are no other features except for a gadget hanging on its roof. It's a truncated pyramid with wires feeding into it. A red flow emanates from the bottom side. Tiny stars flow upwards behind it, into a purple-and-blue void that shifts and moves but never makes form.
He's seen this void before.
Not just in the dreams he's been having.
That's right…
His clothes were heavy and stuffy that day. Sweat soaked his face and his lungs hurt. He was running. Soldiers fled with him through an ocean of ecstatic ghosts. Explosions went off around them. There was rubble. Untripped landmines. Bullet casings. Dirt. Blood. Humans. Pokemon. Corpses. Limbs. The scent of death. Crying. Laughing. Screaming. And screaming. And screaming. He screamed too. He screamed loud. The void was behind them.
