Chapter 4: The Answers You've Been Waiting For

Disclaimer: This disclaimer…let the dogs out. I'm sorry you had to find out like this.

~o~

She was really getting tired of running out of buildings into rainstorms. Sure, it was only pathetic sprinkling rain, rain that would make other rainstorms cringe with secondhand embarrassment, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

Amber burst out of the back doors of the Pokémon Center's service exit, her hands tingling with rebellion from pushing the 'emergency only: alarm will sound' door with no consequences, Charmander on her shoulders to keep a better lookout. The little drops didn't bother him, now that he'd braved the earlier cauldron of storm, though she could tell his strength was flagging—healing berries would only go so far for a young little Charmander who needed regular naps to stoke his inner fires. They'd have to be fast.

Of course, they'd have to be fast anyways, considering their mission depended on an out-of-shape med-school nerd pedaling a generator bike near top speed until they could get back. And if she failed, possibly feral, horribly injured Pokémon would be unleashed on the only hospital in town.

Amber wondered for the first time if perhaps this was a bad idea.

Maybe Nurse Joy—the older one—had been right.

Should she have let them all die? Were their lives worth this risk?

But she thought of Silvani, the broken little Mawile cringing into the corner of her poké ball, and Dragnor the Salamence with tears in his fierce eyes, and knew she couldn't sign their death warrant. Only the Torracat had retained his fierce defiance when his poké ball was nearly dead, glaring at her as if to challenge the universe. And they were only a few—who knows what she'd have seen if she'd looked into the other balls?

If she succeeded, no one would get hurt, and no one would be mad at her.

So Amber didn't feel bad when she stole an orange bike from the rack alongside the building, using her trusty hammer to destroy the lock on the third strike, and took off down the damp asphalt towards the looming skyscraper tree-wall that could only be Viridian Forest. Somehow she hadn't pictured it being quite so…big. Choking vines bigger than her body draped across mossy branches that interlaced like giant's fingers, the canopy thick and green and glistening with rain-wash. She swallowed once as she pedaled faster down the road leading towards the imposing woods. Charmander pressed himself tight against her shoulders, a low, uncertain growl rumbling cutely through his chest.

"We'll be fine," Amber promised, only half certain herself. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Clearly Charmander hadn't seen enough television, because that cheered him right up.

Amber braced herself unconsciously as her bike curved onto the side path leading beneath the Viridian Canopy, and the air itself grew heavy with rich plant matter and oppressive stillness. Deep-green light filtered through the gloom, like her camera filter had gone from 'rainstorm ambience' to 'twilight forest' in three pedals flat, though she was glad no one was around to take pictures of her hair. Her adventure novels never mentioned how messy everything got after battles and storms and mud.

She'd heard it could take hours to find a Pikachu while creeping through the Viridian wilds. Amber didn't have hours, so she went with a…different strategy.

One which would give her nightmares for years to come.

"Ahhhhhhh!" she screamed, not entirely acting as her bike sliced through the knee-high grass at top speed, sending Pokémon scurrying from her path in droves. Caterpie and Weedle dove for freedom, her bike bumped as she ran over Metapod, and red-eyed Kakuna fell from trees behind her on silk strings, glaring and vibrating with fury. Ekans slithered up trees as she whirled like mad, alongside dashing Rattata and Sentret as Pidgey flew by the dozens in a chittering panic. Scores of Pokémon, most of them crawly bugs and slithering things escaped patches of long grass she wouldn't have believed could fit them, like a gaggle of clowns escaping their comically small car.

And of course, some of them chased her. Lots of them, actually. Especially the ones she'd run over. She didn't actually know which species, since she'd looked back only once and seen a mass of spindly legs, tentacle-vine-things, and squishy, overlapping bodies which buzzed and shrieked like one eldritch abomination.

Charmander whipped his head around, spitting an Ember behind them with an alarmed shriek, his nervous tension growing higher with every grass patch they cleared. Fifteen…twenty… "Keep looking!" Amber managed, her skin burning despite the layer of sweat and the cool breeze. "All we need to find is one—" they saw it at the same moment "—PIKACHU!" Amber shouted, as Charmander cried out the alarm, claws digging into her leather-clad shoulder, and clods of dirt flew as she veered towards the yellow blur dashing deeper into the trees, the mass of bugs shifting to chase them.

She fumbled in her bag with one hand for her unused rainstorm ball, better for water types and those who evolved with thunderstones, her stolen bike swaying like mad, until her fingers closed around smooth glaze-work. Gaining on the darting yellow streak, she drew her ball and nearly fell off her bike. Tires squealed, the back end jammed and sticky. She turned back just in time to see the second glob of webs stop the tire entirely, and flew over the handlebars when her front tire hit a rock in her second of distraction.

Dirt tasted bad.

Amber ached, pain screaming from her skinned hands and aching arms, groaning as she pushed herself up and spat out soil. Bugs chittered and clacked, many sporting tire-mark tattoos, already trading cautious blows with her snarling, fire-spitting Charmander, who looked like an adorable demon straight from a rabid-flamethrower's nightmares.

But weren't his fires…like, really small? Firework sparks blew from his inner furnace instead of orange flames. Enough to keep the advance tide of furious Spinarak—she shuddered from head to toe—cautious, at least, but it couldn't last.

Amber lunged for her fallen backpack, digging through clothes and items with her heart in her throat. So many useful items, everything she thought she'd need, and of course she'd forgotten to keep them on top where she could get to them quickly! At least she'd remembered she had them, this time. Wingbeats and scuttles issued from the battlefield, smoke and dusty powder making her sneeze three times in quick succession.

Finally, she had her ultimate weapon. Amber pulled out the safety pin, aimed, and fired a blasting repel-mist in billowing clouds with a voice-cracking war cry.

Bugs scattered and fled from the foul mist. Charmander let out a tiny little roar at their fleeing backs, braced on all fours, covered in little wounds and enjoying himself immensely.

But a dark silhouette remained within the fog. Wings buzzing.

Whining drills challenged their early celebration, and more shadows faded in from the fading repel-mist, three in total.

Amber's smile faded. Charmander let out a fierce battle cry, having far too much fun, opened his mouth, and—

A fizzle of sparks drooled onto the spongy earth.

He jerked back, trying the move again. Even sadder sparks rewarded his efforts, to his confused frustration. "Charmander, return!" Amber shouted, recalling him as silver drills bored into the earth where he'd been, and then the Beedrill came for her. Poison whipped off their spinning drills, leaving smoking holes in the leaves.

Beedrill. Giant, drill-wielding psychopaths who had been the star of the exact horror film she'd sneakily watched three nights ago. And the truth wasn't far off from the movies—Beedrill were known to kill when provoked, and she had just done that thing.

With a whining buzz just like the auto shop back home, complete with thrumming-engine wings and power-drill arms, the Beedrill darted forward as one.

What came next was less a plan, and more a knee-jerk reaction born of dangerous games from her childhood.

Charmander immediately reformed on her shoulders, Amber shouted a brief order, and then she screamed, blasting the rest of the repel directly in front of her with her eyes closed. Tiny sparks hit the flammable spray, and a sun-searing roar burst from her homemade flamethrower.

Dark shadows recoiled from the flash, dancing long and deep across the swaying foliage, and the Beedrill screamed, their skin blackening as each recoiled and fled, only two making it out before unconsciousness claimed them. A smoking, twitching creature was left on the blackened forest floor, and only then did silence fall.

The repel sputtered out, leaving Amber breathing hard. She sank to her knees, legs shaking too bad to hold herself up, and slumped. "That…was way too close," she breathed, staring straight ahead without seeing.

"Char, CHAR!" her starter exclaimed, bouncing up and down on her shoulders, tail-flame burning higher than ever before, a hyperactive well of vocal amazement. He began reenacting the battle, falling over himself to mimic all the moves, and bounced three times over the Beedrill's unconscious form, posing at the end.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it." Amber snorted, rolling her eyes. She straightened at once. "Crap! The Pikachu!" But the little electric type was long gone, despite the quick battle…and she smelled like repel now. Fantastic. "Argh!" she shouted, clenching her hands in her hair. She shot to her feet, stuffing things back in her backpack forcefully. "Stupid Spinarak, stupid missions, stupid terrorist Porygon—!"

A new voice cut in. "Uh. Do you, need help or something?"

Amber's head snapped towards the newcomer, a tall teenage boy around her age, with tousled dark-brown hair, a green jacket over a loose shirt that couldn't hide his ripped frame, and deep, warm-brown eyes, and oh crap, he was hot. "And I don't just mean because you're talking to yourself," the boy clarified helpfully, in a Galarian accent. "I also heard screaming. Like…a lot of it." A Grookey on his shoulder grunted agreement.

Of course she had to run into someone like him looking like a swamp creature. Amber pushed muddy hair out of her face, smearing brown streaks across her pale skin, Charmander darting back up to her shoulders. She considered denying the screaming. "Have you seen a Pikachu?" she asked, after a deep sigh. She stalked over to the fallen bike, front wheel still spinning, and started tearing off webs.

His eyebrows shot up. "Crap, you too? My Nickit went crazy a little while ago and just shot off into the forest! Poké ball wouldn't return him, either. Oh, let me help you with that," he said, producing a pocket knife to cut the webbing away from 'her' bike. It went much faster. The tire was free in no time. He helped her lift the bike, though she didn't really need it. "Don't suppose you've seen a Nickit this direction?"

"Nope," Amber said, shaking her head, dejection coiling through her. What was she going to do now? "But I doubt it's coming back. There was…" How to sum this whole chaotic mess up? "Porygon attacked this part of Kanto and damaged the synthetic poké balls," Amber said gloomily. "They won't work right anymore. Can't return Pokémon at all, and they don't mind control them anymore."

She caught herself as the words came out of her mouth.

Her theory wasn't just that anymore. It was fact. And soon everyone was going to know it, too.

Excitement sent her heart tingling, all the way down to her fingertips. "Oh," she said, turning to face him, keeping her voice nonchalant. "Yeah, that was proven, by the way. Poké balls mind control Pokémon. Everyone in Viridian got hit by the same thing you did. Turns out lots of Pokémon don't want to stay with us. A ton of them ran away."

He stared at her, mouth pressed together. "Uh huh. Sure."

She flushed. "It's true!" she insisted, glaring up at him.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "Cause that sounds real."

"Well it should, because it is," Amber said stubbornly. She really didn't have time for this. She scanned the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Pikachu, subconsciously planning her next move.

"Then how come my Grookey is fine?" he asked, maximizing a great ball in his hand. Grookey vanished, and then reappeared…and he seemed a little too docile and well-behaved, eyes trusting and childlike.

That threw her for a second. "Uh. Maybe not all poké balls were affected!" she said, not knowing if it was true. "You could be an exception." But her better nature won out over their argument, and Amber sighed, digging around in her bag. She held out a grassy-patterned jungle ball, begrudgingly. "But you should really let your Grookey have his mind back. You can have this apricorn ball. It will work the same, except it doesn't have mind control." She really was too nice.

"…Yeah, I'm not touching that thing," the boy said, holding up both hands and blanching.

She stared at him. "Why not?"

"Apricorn balls are messed up," he said feelingly. "You shouldn't be using them either. Don't you know they run on their owner's aura instead of electricity? You'll forge a sensory link with your battlers over time. Eventually you're going to start feeling pain when they get hit. You really want to black out after you lose a battle? Seriously, didn't your parents teach you anything?"

Amber's mouth fell open, eyes sparking. "I know a lot more about apricorn balls than you," she warned, and he half-rolled his eyes with a scoff. "And the aura connection creates stronger bonds. Trainers should feel their partner's pain, otherwise they might abuse them without good reason. Trainers and Pokémon fight together that way, and it isn't so one sided. But that stuff doesn't even matter, because your Grookey is mind controlled."

Her would-be rescuer looked at his Grookey, and shrugged. "I don't really care," he admitted. "Seems happy enough to me. This way is easier for everyone." Words completely escaped her, outrage wiping her mind blank, her mouth hanging open. "But I appreciate the warning," he added on, smiling at her. The jerk had dimples. "Now I know not to release my new Pikachu until this poké ball thing gets fixed. So, uh…take care, I guess."

Her mouth snapped closed.

"You have a Pikachu?" she repeated blankly.

"Well it isn't your Pikachu. I caught it a few hours ago."

She turned to stare at him. "I need it."

"…Yeah, that's gonna be a no."

"It's important," she insisted. "If I don't get an electric Pokémon soon, a bunch of poké balls holding dying Pokémon are going to lose power, and then they'll all escape and bleed out! I was entrusted this mission by Professor Oak!"

"You're insane," the boy said with an air of realization, stepping back slowly. "An actual crazy person. Just my luck!"

Amber squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, taking a deep breath. She steeled herself. "What's your name again?"

He eyed her warily. "Blake. Blake Cross."

Charmander leapt from her shoulder, ominously growling as he advanced on all fours, sparking behind his fangs. "Hand over the Pikachu, Blake," Amber said, crossing her arms with a steady glare.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Are you robbing me?" he demanded, voice rising. "You can't be serious."

He wasn't giving her any choice! Amber made a mental promise to return his Pikachu later, along with the bike, but set her jaw and said, "Let's go, Charmander!" Her starter leapt for the boy who'd come to rescue her, and was intercepted by a screaming Grookey. The two little Pokémon rolled over in the dirt, scratching and biting with vicious abandon. Grookey beat against Charmander's scales with his little drumsticks, his howls turning to pain as Charmander's fangs clamped down on his torso and shook.

"Get them, Grookey!" Blake called out, gritting his teeth. "Branch Poke!"

But from the beginning, it was clear who the better fighter was. Charmander was absolutely feral, wild, merciless, and fast, never hesitating to strike and constantly in motion, hitting twice as often and rolling with each punch to minimize damage.

Even without fire moves, it only took a minute to knock the placid Grookey into scratched unconsciousness.

Blake returned him with furious mutiny etched into his face. "And if I still don't hand it over?" he demanded, each word sharp. Charmander advanced, stalking on all fours with an ominous snarl. Amber hesitated—she hadn't actually thought of that. She couldn't actually hurt him…but they really needed that Pikachu!

But faced with her starter, Blake clenched his teeth together, and pulled the Pikachu's ultra ball off his belt. He pressed the release button, folding his arms with an air of smugness, and the newly freed Pikachu took off like a lightning bolt for the trees. His ultra ball fizzled and died, like all the rest.

"No!" Amber called out, breaking into a run. "Charmander, let's go!" She returned him while running, and then threw the sunglass ball in between the Pikachu and the trees with all her strength. Charmander hissed, blocking the fleet, heart-tailed Pikachu from freedom, and she turned on a dime, darting towards the right.

The orange-and-yellow fast ball caught her on the back of the head, jolting her from head to tail. Once, it shook, then pinged with a hollow click.

Amber breathed hard, stalking over to pick up the fast ball, still warm from the capture. She glared at Blake. "I wasn't lying, okay? Come with me and I'll prove it."

He glared back, his forearms bunching. "Oh, you mean you're going to bring me with you after leaving me defenseless in the woods and robbing me? How generous." Sarcasm dripped off every posh word. "Conspiracy nut."

She slung her backpack over her shoulder. "Only if you want your Pikachu back. But oh, I forgot, you can't handle an apricorn ball, or free will, so I guess that'll be a no—"

~o~

Blake did tag along, and he was annoying the whole way.

She had technically robbed him. But the attitude was still a bit much. She left the bike behind when it was clear the crash had broken the chain irreparably, jogging out of the forest whenever she had strength, and walking when it was too much. But every second she delayed grated at her—had Joy been able to hold on? Was she still pedaling, waiting for her return? Charmander stood vigil on her shoulders, eyes half-lidded while his head drooped every so often before he caught himself. He held the Pikachu's fast ball, and had spent the better part of their trip explaining things to her in their own language.

Hopefully, it would be enough, and the Pikachu would give them the lightning they needed.

With the way her day had gone, she was on edge the second they entered the town, expecting a disaster or an attack to strike at them before they reached the Pokémon Center. But nothing came, and they slipped in the emergency door behind the Pokémon Center without incident, held open by a small block she'd left earlier. Blake sputtered at her criminal ways. "I should turn you in now," he protested, his voice a deep tenor. "If these 'dying poké balls' existed, you wouldn't be sneaking in the back! You're a Rocket, aren't you? I can't believe my mum was right about them still existing…"

"Do you ever stop complaining? No wonder you need mind-controlled Pokémon, or none of them would put up with you!" she shot back, breaking into a run despite her burning, bloated-feeling muscles. "You can wait here if you're so worried!" she called after him. He hesitated in the doorway, cursed with odd slang, and caught up to her with ease.

"If I get caught, I'll never forgive you," he promised. "You and that ridiculous Charmander in the edgy sunglasses."

"Those sunglasses are awesome! You don't know what you're talking about!" But the door was in sight now, and she didn't have time for banter. "Right there!" she said, almost slipping on her own muddy shoes. Blake caught her shoulder before she could fall, flinging the door open in the same motion, and then they both saw red.

Red light pooled in a soft dome, throwing the rest of the storage room into indistinct darkness. Four quivering sunglass balls rattled below a sparking bike, whirring in disjointed cycles as a dull-eyed girl pedaled, hunched over the bars in silent pain. Sweat dripped down her face and neck, her gasping breaths almost a sob in time with every beat of her shuddering legs.

"Joy!" Amber shouted, her own tiredness forgotten as she ran to the exhausted girl. She barely reacted, her eyes flickering to the side, words on her lips that never came.

A golden sunburst flared from the right, and an enormous shadow burst free, the ground shuddering briefly as its rocky feet hit the stone. Amber recoiled as her heart dropped down to the freaking earth, the sharp scent of minerals washing over her. The spikes on the Tyranitar's head scraped the ceiling, but did that cannonball-sized hole go all the way through its chest—?

Before the thought processed, Joy reached into the bag tied to her handlebars, and pitched a heavy ball at the behemoth, before it could even roar. Good thing it was so big, because her aim sucked—the black apricorn ball hit the Tyranitar's knee, and sucked it inwards with a silver flash. It jolted and danced like mad on the tile, rolling in several different directions, nearly hitting Amber's leg before she jumped to the side. Joy fumbled for another apricorn ball, the taste of her sweat staining the air…

A hollow click rang out, and the ball rested near the others. A pile of broken-open balls dotted the sides of the floor. Joy dropped the ball back into the bag Amber had left behind with a moan. "Did…you?" she barely managed.

"Yeah!" Amber said, pushing aside her thundering heart, because it wasn't over yet! "We've got the Pikachu, so now what? Do we just shock the balls?"

But Joy was already shaking her head, the loops of her hair damp and bedraggled. "The…bike," she managed, squeezing her hands tighter on the bars…but she didn't let go.

"Uh, let me help you with that," Amber said, stepping forward helpfully. Joy was clutching the handles so hard her knuckles were white, and didn't let go until Amber started loosening her fingers—her hands released abruptly, and she practically melted off the bike into Amber's arms, the still-spinning pedals scraping a large tear up her white stockings and into her leg. "Sorry!" Amber said, lowering the surprisingly heavy girl to the floor, where she lay in a collapsed heap, eyes closed.

"Get her further away," Blake said at once. She'd forgotten he was there, but he had Joy under the arms in a second, dragging her back as the generator-bike slowed bit by bit. More of the poké balls on the charging station began to shake. "Hurry!" he snapped, as she fumbled with the Pikachu's ball.

"Right, uh, Pikachu, go!" she managed, pressing the trigger on the fast ball, a small, wide-eyed Pikachu materializing at once, standing up on her tippy toes as she looked around. Charmander snapped out a growling order, practically jumping on her shoulder.

Blue-white lightning pulsed from Pikachu's cheek sacs, striking the generator-bike dead on. The electrical whine grew louder and louder, sparks flying from the bike, and from each segment on the line of cables leading to the charging station, which suddenly flared with brilliant sky-blue light, drowning out the red in a burst.

The Pikachu's cry grew louder as she poured in living lightning. Sparks began to fly from the walls, the outlets, and the dead lightbulbs above, raining down like spitting blue embers that made them all cringe back as the whine grew to a fever pitch, and the generator bike exploded in a burst of whizzing screws and clanging metal. Amber ducked, covering her face with her arms, and Blake jumped in front of Joy, taking a smoking wheel-rim to the back that thudded in his ribcage. Charmander let out a cry, truly panicked for the first time that day, cowering into her hair.

Silence fell, interspersed with a few more sizzling spark showers.

But the poké ball charging station glowed blue.

"Hahaha…" Amber breathed, sitting back on her hands. She threw back her head and laughed out loud, giddy relief coursing through her all at once. "We did it!" she crowed, falling back on the ground next to Joy in a boneless heap, grinning so much her face hurt, which was familiar because her all of her hurt, her laughter unhinged and exultant. Charmander slumped onto her belly, barely keeping his head up at all, warm and precious, with his tail-fire sizzling low and orange.

No problem. The first day of her journey was nothing to worry about! Total…piece of cake.

~o~

"We were lucky," Joy fretted, for about the thirtieth time, as they collected poké balls from the charging station and deposited them back into their bag. She wasn't walking completely straight, and both Blake and Amber hung by her sides in case she fell. "If those Pokémon hadn't been so weakened, I never could have caught them so easily once their poké balls ran out of power."

"Don't forget how you only had fifteen of my apricorn balls and used fourteen of them trying to catch the early escapees," Amber pointed out with a grin. Charmander slept soundly in his sunglass ball on her belt. The opacity filter was off, and she kept sneaking glances at his tiny, curled-up form, heart aglow with love. "I'm pretty much out now." It had taken her weeks to make that many apricorn balls, each one handcrafted with enormous care…but it didn't matter. Totally worth it.

Joy tightened her lips, not amused in the slightest. "You shouldn't make light of the situation! If anything else had gone wrong…"

"Which it didn't," she cut in.

"But if it had—!"

"It didn't, and everything is fine, and I only had to commit like, two crimes…"

"You committed crimes‽" Joy half-shouted, aghast, her sky-blue eyes scandalized. Amber tightened the drawstring on the poké ball bag, tying it back to her backpack. The weight was almost too much for her, but they could rest soon. Just…not in a creepy storage closet that they may or may not have destroyed.

"Which reminds me," Blake cut in, dragging a hand through his hair. He looked towards the ceiling as if asking a deity for guidance. "I forgive you. Despite your bad manners, and that frankly terrifying creature you call a starter, you were doing the right thing. I won't press charges for robbing me." Amber grinned at him, and pressed the Pikachu's fast ball into his hand. He stared at it for a moment, shook his head, and put it in his pocket without a word.

"You robbed someone," Joy repeated, eyes staring at nothing, having gone completely pale. Blake opened the door for both of them, the whoosh of cold air on their sweaty skin a chill relief. "I aided a criminal."

Amber didn't hate the sound of that. Honestly, it was kind of cool to be labelled dangerous. Even if she hadn't done anything too bad. Their footsteps echoed in the hallway. "Do I get a criminal name? I want a criminal name."

"Quit enjoying this, Red," Blake reproached, his faint accent making the line sound like something from a movie. Joy was taller than her, but Blake had them both beat, his shock of dark hair adding a few inches to his height. Their voices echoed in the dark hallway, kind of creepy in an abandoned-hospital kind of way, though the others didn't notice or care.

Actually…it was really quiet.

Even though they were getting close to the main lobby.

"Uh, guys?" Amber started, wondering if she was just being crazy. "Where is everyone?"

Blake shot her a dry glare. "Don't try to freak us out. Look, there are people past the door." He was right—shapes of people stood beyond the doors, made into vague shadows by the frosted glass.

Not moving. Not talking.

Amber frowned, and walked faster, almost at a run when she shoved the doors open, and heard—

Carnival music. Ever so faint, barely even there, emanating from fuzzy monitors all around the room. People stood in silent groups, glued to the screens in a silence so absolute barely a breath dared to break it.

"Now you know the truth," an electronic voice grated, deep and male, coming from every screen at once, just audible over the faint music. "Poké balls are tools of slavery, bending the minds of those they capture, and today those chains have been broken. Never again will an unwilling Pokémon serve a stranger, never again will their wrath be sedated in a mind-haze, subduing violence, emotion, expression. Never again."

The door swung shut behind them. No one noticed them enter the room. Amber stared at the blurring silhouette on the TV screens, with the impending sense that everything was about to change. Blake was uncharacteristically silent, his hand gripped around Grookey's ball.

"But that isn't all," the nation-hacker continued in his synthetic drone. "Synthetic poké balls have never just affected Pokémon. Humans who use them are affected by the mind control as well…" Shocked inhalations rippled through the room, and Blake jerked as if shocked. "Forcing them to love, and bond with Pokémon, just as their Pokémon love and bond with them. I'm sure you've noticed exceptions, in both trainers and their Pokémon, but those are just the strongest, the evil, cruel, and insane, the ones whose natures can never be entirely suppressed. All of you have been living a lie."

Blood was roaring in her ears. She stared with parted lips, locked in a world that wasn't entirely real, sounds too bright, lights too loud…

The voice was silent for a time. The disjointed carnival music oozed from the speakers. No one even moved. "I understand this is a lot to take in," the voice continued. Pitying. "You may not care. You may not change. I don'tcare about you. But let me tell you about Project J. Or, as the government knows it, Project Jenny and Joy." Voices were murmuring now, the rumble before an earthquake. "They justified it because the originals supported the plan, the first Jenny and Joy. Jenny needed discipline and righteousness, an incorruptible police force. Joy needed altruism, selfless kindness to slave away for societies' benefit. For the greater good—the four-word banner which has flown over every violation of rights—the words used to justify the cloning of Jenny and Joy. And to justify the hair clips they wear, with a more powerful mind control than even the poké balls, keeping them disciplined and kind, beyond human selfishness—"

People were shouting now. Amber couldn't hear the TV. She wanted to look at Joy, the one who had helped her, but the thought seemed so far away, and how much of this broadcast had they missed?

"Everyone, please remain calm!" a Nurse Joy called out, her raised hand shaking, and her face bone-white. "Everyone, please—!"

A furious voice, the same that had told Amber to ditch the injured Pokémon in the woods to die, shouted above the rest. "Get her hairclip! Then we'll know!"

Amber couldn't stop watching. She couldn't turn her head.

She saw Nurse Joy shouting, a surge of bodies holding back her arms as she struggled, the calm electronic voice unheard in the chaos, until a woman yanked the clip away along with a chunk of hair, freeing Nurse Joy's pink-hair loops. Nothing happened at first, and relief washed through the half-crazed mob, reason returning to their eyes. A baby wailed, and the nurse shook herself free, glaring and breathing hard.

The woman broke the teal hairclip between her hands, and the nurse crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Joy let out a cry at Amber's side.

The silence fell again like a guillotine, tinged this time with horror.

The voice continued on, oblivious and uncaring as he destroyed the world. "I've taken this nation back, with the help of my powerful friends. Taken your power, from your devices, and that which you held over others. Never again will a synthetic poké ball work within Kanto. As a price of that, of your unwillingness to take action before now despite the evidence, electronics cannot function either. Anyone who enters the nation will be affected as well, losing their artificial bonds. I am here, within the nation. Find me and the game is over. I lose. Until then, we'll all return to our roots. And those who cannot adapt will lose everything."

The carnival music cut out, leaving nothing but the sounds of static. With less synthetic overlay this time, almost a discernible voice, the man spoke with weary finality.

"So, Kanto, I say this to you all, once and for all, ringing through the bones of the earth until you understand. Never. Again."

The monitors died with a pop, going black one by one.

They didn't turn back on again.

~o~