Sorry for the long wait, guys. Long hours at work and family problems.

I've been brainstorming for a way to reveal Arron's true past to the rest in a meaningful way, and I think this is the best way to do it. It won't happen in this chapter, but rest assured, this is marking a new part in this story, known as The Plunge.

I hope you enjoy it, and please remember to leave a review. Reviews are far more personal and invaluable to me than a favorite or a follow, especially when it's constructive. I want your input and reception, even if it's bad or negative, because it has me fix real problems in my story.

Anyway, thanks for reading and have a great day. Next chapter comes out in a week. Regular updating with resume.

Arron spent the next day sulking around the park, avoiding most of the other pokemon and watching from afar, since he was in one of his 'moods' again. That's what Raboot had dubbed them earlier, his 'moods'. He found it stupid at first, but he eventually accepted the fact that he wasn't the most emotionally stable of individuals, so Raboot had the last laugh he supposed.

His desire to remain alone, appropriate or not, was quickly ignored by most of the other pokemon in the park, as they were used to greeting the newcomers Ash and Goh captured during their journeys. The majority of them seemed to be quite weak, but he was impressed by the sheer number of pokemon caught. There had to have been at least fifty different kinds of pokemon there, from tiny birds and butterflies to a massive Golem wading through the lake in the center of the park with a massive beach ball. The golem especially interested him, as it seemed to be both very old and very powerful, powerful enough to make Arron think twice before fighting him, an accomplishment in itself.

The rest, however, were quite mediocre at best. Yet despite his power and his overwhelming hollow scent, they decided to pester him with countless stupid questions. The majority of them amounted to 'what are you' only said in different ways depending on who was asking. The majority of the tougher, stupider ground based pokemon like the Boldore and the Trapinch were very direct, while the water types and flying types were more cautious, preferring to watch him from afar before coming close. It didn't matter either way, the attention annoyed Arron to no end. God forbid if he could have some peace.

Currently, he was near the edge of the dome, where few of the pokemon ventured. He hoped he'd be able to find some privacy, but he'd realized that ship had sailed the moment the misdreavus decided to follow him, her Sandile companion following close behind.

The Misdreavus was an odd creature: it floated like a balloon filled with helium, and had no legs or arms. Her eyes were an odd maroon/crimson color and she had a mouth full of fangs that reminded him of those plastic Halloween vampire teeth you could buy at the dollar store for cheap. Her head seemed to make up the majority of her body, the rest being something like a cape tied at the bottom, flowing unnaturally even within the dome, where wind didn't blow. She was always mischievous and ready to do something naughty, but one look from Arron immediately seemed to discourage her from getting on his nerves. Despite that, she seemed oddly entranced with him, to a point where Arron was starting to become creeper out, and even her Sandile friend seemed exasperated, as if he was just dragged along for the ride.

Her most curious feature was that she didn't speak. He heard her hum in curiosity or surprise, but she never spoke to him. Arron didn't know whether she could or not, although if she couldn't it wasn't due to a lack of the ability to vocalize. Maybe she was simply silent by choice.

Either way, with the Misdreavus, the Sandile and Arron finally came to a stop at a small river where water flowed in from a river blocked off by a steel mesh grate to prevent pokemon from escaping. He was tempted to see if he could blow the grate and escape, possibly go rogue again, a tempting opportunity, but he decided it was far more trouble than it was worth. As humiliating as being someone's pet was, the benefits seemed to outweigh the costs at the moment. He would stay with Goh, even if it was to make sure the boy stayed safe.

That was another thing he was conflicted about: Goh. He didn't know how to feel about Goh. At one moment, he was persistent, overbearing and annoyingly overprotective, and the next he was quiet and reserved. He had this strange idea that he could somehow train Arron, which was enough to make him laugh bitterly. Yet when the exercise in futility ultimately failed, Goh would shrink back into his proverbial shell and sulk for an hour or so before attempting something else to assist Arron, which just puzzled the former hollow even more. Why not just let him be self-sufficient?

Arron had to stop letting the boy influence his feelings as well, because that was the only tactic Goh had perfected. Arron would often feel bad for the boy when his plans ultimately backfired, and would try to comfort him, like before with Dr Cerise. It was not only undesirable, but it filled Arron with anxiety every time he realized he had shown even mild affection to the boy.

That was his main concern. The growing affection. He would have to stamp that out before it got one of them killed. Arron knew he was destined to lose everything he loved, so why love again? Sometimes he envied Ulquiorra and his lack of empathy and emotion: maybe they could trade curses, then maybe he'd finally be rid of some of the pain.

Arron sighed. Thinking about all of that was pointless. Right now he needed something to do, and Goh gesturing him to go play with the other pokemon like he was some petulant child wasn't something to do. He wanted to be gone from this laboratory, since battling was prohibited to prevent startling or disturbing the many pokemon that lived here.

So what was there to do? Sulk? Raboot had wanted nothing to do with him ever since his outburst on the train, Pikachu was being slothful as usual, Scyther was doing god-knows-what and Riolu was avoiding him. He had nobody here to associate with that was remotely near his level of power.

'Go on, Arron, go make some friends'

The word 'friend' left a sickly, metallic taste on his tongue, as if he had sucked on a rusted penny, and the notion itself made him feel nauseated. He didn't have friends, he had associates and acquaintances, not friends. The word itself was childish to him, like a set of building blocks.

Beyond that, if socializing wasn't bad enough for the hollow, he would have to socialize with these creatures. It was preposterous in itself when the majority of them possessed the level of common sense you could hope to find in your average houseplant. Many of these creatures seemed to vary greatly in overall intelligence and self awareness, but the majority of them were animalistic in nature, Neanderthals at best. The rare few that seemed to possess a modicum of intelligence and sapience were the bipeds and the wise elderly pokemon.

So, he had no interest in anything regarding social behavior.

The only pokemon that interested him was the Golurk. It was big, strong and simultaneously very calm, like the gentle giant cliche given life, and it spent the day allowing birds to nest on it like a metallic tree. Occasionally, it would tap the beach ball thrown at it, sending it flying back to Ash, who would try and fail to catch it while standing upright in the water. Steam bellowed out of a massive crack on its chest, which was held taught by a strip of metal resembling brass and a pair of bolts inserted into its ferric flesh. Beneath that was the engine that made up its heart: a bright and powerful plume resembling a star contained within Golurk's belly. Occasionally, it was heat up or cool down depending on the energy Golurk expended, going from a dwarf red to a bright, nearly blinding bluish-white.

Golurk was possibly the only creature that interested Arron due to it's interesting biology. Was it biology? Wouldn't it be lithology? Golurk obviously wasn't organic, he'd never seen it eat food, rather just cracking rucks with its massive hands and swallowing them through its mouth, which was just an opening in the area that resembled a head which could be closed at will. It's movements were slow and creaky, like the hinges on an old door grinding together, yet they were graceful in a way.

Arron had never seen anything like it. He'd seen ghosts, undead soldiers, twisted spirits, and beings that could weave illusions so real that you could end up stabbing yourself without realizing it. But something like Golurk was unprecedented to him.

This world obviously required some observation after all.

He plopped down onto the grass with a sigh and watched the pokemon huddle around the lake, most likely doing something juvenile. The Misdreavus, startled by hiaction, floated away before coming closer and watching him again. Arron could feel her eyes bore into the back of his skull. The Sandile had disappeared a while ago, probably burrowing somewhere to sleep, which was fine with Arron. All that was left to do was wait out his imprisonment in this park while Ash and Goh sorted out whatever it is they needed to sort out with Professor Cerise.

He was about to take a nap when he heard a soft voice echo behind him.

"Well, you certainly don't seem like the other pokemon."

He turned his head to identify the new voice, only to reveal that it was Professor Cerise's Associate, Chrysa. She had a small smile painted on her lips and a raised eyebrow to convey her piqued interest. In her arms was a clipboard of blank paperwork, no doubt something involving the laboratory. Her hear, including a stethoscope, clung from her belt and a chain holding what seemed to be a small flashlight hung from her neck.

Arron paid her little mind, instead turning back to watch the pokemon play with the beach ball Golurk had given them. One of the pokemon, what seemed to be a large bird with a leek of all things, slapped the ball in midair with his vegetable with the force of a professional NBL player and back into the water, causing a ginormous splash and a ruckus from the water type pokemon. He huffed and cranes his neck to try and spot any specific water types out of the silhouettes blocked by Golurk's massive legs, bit to no avail.

If Chrysa was fazed by Arron's disinterest in her, she didn't show it. "I know you like to pretend you're mature, but you're still a child. You should be having fun, not up here moping."

Arron tried his best to keep ignoring her, but she just sat down next to him. "Although, I must ask; why are you like this? Why are you so… apathetic? I've barely seen you open up to anyone except for Goh."

Arron was quickly becoming tired of her stupid questions. Why did she care? She was a researcher, nothing more. His mind was not a specimen for her to pick.

Chrysa seemed to sense his coiling tension, but she wasn't threatened. "I'm not scared of you, Arron. I've dealt with far meaner pokemon in my twelve year career, and you are among one of the milder ones. You're more of a pouting child than anything else."

Arron's eyes widened before narrowing in range. This presumptuous bitch just crossed a line.

Yet Chrysa was unfazed by his apparent rage, instead twiddling her pen between her fingers while she continued her monologue on his personality. "You clearly have a superiority complex, yet you are quick to adapt to the new pecking order, at least mostly. You are prideful, yet reserved. Very self centered, narcissistic even. I don't need to know what your saying to the other pokemon to understand this, your body language, the way you subconsciously twitch and flex your tail gives it away. Yet you are afraid of sharp objects, which I find absolutely hilarious despite it being nearly crippling for you. You pretend to be tough, yet you aren't a threat at all, a paper purrloin so to speak.

Arron grit his teeth, but he held back the anger boiling in his throat. Not a threat? What did she know about threats? Had she fought beings with the potential to destroy continents with a flick of their wrists? Withstood the energy equivalent of a nuclear blast at point blank? Killed in cold blood? This arrogant woman talked about danger, yet she didn't have the slightest clue of what she was sitting next to: a being of pure entropy whose sole purpose was to devour and destroy. That's all that Hollows were, even Arrancar, just weapons. His existence was one of pain, a pain he tried his best to hide away behind a grin and a cool and aloof attitude, both before and after his death. He was reborn into a cruel world and doomed to relive the pain that turned him into the monster he was today, over and over and over again. Or at least that's what it seemed to be.

Arron momentarily wondered if this was the true hell, that he had somehow sinned horrifically in his past life and was now replaying the events that hurt him the most as some sort of everlasting torment. It was almost funny, in a way, a clever ruse.

Chrysa noticed his drop in attitude. "I see I misjudged you, then. There's something keeping you this way, a regret, maybe? I'm no psychiatrist, but I know a broken individual when I see one, and you are most certainly broken," she scribbled something on a notepad she had produced out of her pocket, probably behavioral notes before returning it and showing him a faint smirk. "You pretend to be superior, Arron, but you are so easy to read. You wear your thoughts on your sleeves so to speak, and that's a good thing: it allows me to help you more effectively, whether you want my help or not. Now, try and at least unwind? Your muscles are like taught springs."

Arron realized that she had just played him like a fiddle by getting him to display his emotions. He stood, using all the willpower he had to not tear her apart and walked away while Chrysa cracked her knuckles. Before he was out of earshot, however, she called him.

"I know there's more to you than you let on, Arron. Just know this: whatever is wrong with you, I will find it out and assist in remedying it. There is no discussion, I will help you."

Arron simply sneered at her, taking her unspoken challenge with pure malice. Fix him? She was clearly insane. Hed show her, he'd make sure she embarrassed herself so much that she'd give up on this silly mind game of hers. Besides, she had just thrown away her greatest weapon: the element of surprise. The game was on.

In the distance, however, Chrysa simply pulled out her phone and speed-dialed a number she hadn't used in a while. After three rings, a soft and melodic voice spoke to her.

"Chrysa, darling, it's been so long, how have you been lately?"

She smiled. "I've been wonderful, Rosemary. Listen, I have a favor to pull. I need some professional help with a very stubborn, very… broken pokemon. And please bring Gardevior, we'll need her."

Rosemary purred playfully. "Of course, darling, how could I say no to you? Just make sure to keep a bottle of the strawberry champagne I left with you on ice; we have so much catching up to do."

A little later into the day, Chrysa knocked on Professor Cerise's door casually, waiting for his response. Her older superior opened it with his good hand, his right hand still covered in bandages from the bite. The bleeding had long since stopped, but she could see a red outline were a bit of it had seeped through to stitches.

"It seems that Arron bit you badly, sir. How are you feeling?"

Cerise nodded and sighed. "Good, it hurts badly, but the bleeding stopped."

"That's good to hear, sir."

"So, Chrysa, how did your little 'excursion' with Arron go?"

She twiddled her thumbs as she entered his office. "It was more or less a success, sir. I've hypothesized that he has severe mental issues, something stemming from abuse. It is likely that our mutual friend has a tragic past."

Professor Cerise's expression sagged slightly. "That's a shame, but at least we have some foundation to work with here. I suggest we hire a professional."

"I have already contacted a mutual associate of mine, sir."

Professor Cerise rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left, his right hand twitching. "Chrysa, I told you I don't like to work with Rosemary. She's… a liability."

Chrysa's expression remained blank. "With all due respect, sir, she's a pioneer in her field, and I doubt Arron would cooperate with a traditional psychiatrist. He needs special help, the kind of help that victims of brutality need."

Professors Cerise chuckled at the irony of the situation. "Calling Arron a 'victim of brutality' is just rich, Chrysa. He isn't a victim, he's too tough to be one."

Chrysa raised her eyebrow ever so slightly. "I disagree. Being a victim doesn't imply someone is weak, just that they were wronged or harmed."

Professor Cerise sat back down on his swivel chair. "Fine, I concede, I'll cooperate with her. But are you sure this is necessary?"

"I know severe trauma when I see it. I used to work with Rosemary at times, Arron has a grab bag of key traits that apply to a trauma victim. He's reserved, hostile, prone to fits of rage, his coping mechanism is obviously harming others which can and will become a severe issue when he evolves, and most importantly he has a severe, almost phobic response to social interactions, especially when considering pokemon his age."

Professor Cerise massaged his chin, clearly considering an alternative. "I understand the issue at hand, and I agree his issues are incredibly severe, but calling in Rosemary isn't exactly a subtle solution. Especially with her Gardevior being used. I don't like the idea of linking a psychic type pokemon with a mentally Ill one, it just screams liability."

Chrysa leaned against the wall, tapping it with her hands in a pattern. "Believe me, professor, I understand your concerns. But Rosemary knows her stuff, and her Gardevior is tougher than she looks. Do you remember the Sinnoh Incident a few years back?"

Cerise's face instantly darkened. "Yes, what does that have to do with Rosemary?"

"Rosemary was the lead psychiatrist tasked with unraveling the events through the minds of the victims, using her Gardevior as a conduit to observe. She was able to deduce what team galactic had been up to and have them arrested. She saved countless lives and Giratina was sealed away again. For her Gardevior to witness Giratina and come out unscathed is extraordinary, even for one of the most intelligent psychic type pokemon."

Professor Cerise was silent, considering his options. Chrysa waited for his response with rapt attention, praying he would agree.

"If she fails, it's on you. This is by far the most difficult pokemon we've both ever dealt with."

"I agree, sir, and that's why Rosemary is the only expert I trust for a task like this."

The good professor sighed as he went back to filling out paperwork. "Let's hope your trust isn't misplaced, Chrysa."

"It isn't, sir."

The next day, a slim black sedan pulled up to the Laboratory, it's windows tinted. The door popped open to reveal a slender woman in her early thirties wrapped in a flowing white outdoor dress cut at the shin and a wide brimmed sun-hat. Her hair was a dark auburn and she had light pink lipstick on her lips. Her green eyes sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. She pulled out a pokeball and released her partner, a tall and illustrious Gardevior, whose regal and calm demeanor portrayed her discipline. The woman talked to her partner quietly, most likely going over some final preparations, and her partner nodded before following her trainer up the steps and to the foyer of the research laboratory, where Professor Cerise and Goh were arguing.

"Professor, please, Why can't I stay? I want to help Arron."

"I'm sorry, Goh, but I'm afraid that you'd disrupt the process. This is something that Arron has to tackle alone."

A tear streamed down Goh's eye, the boy was obviously distraught. "I need to be with him, I want to protect him!"

"He isn't in any danger, this is a fickle process and very personal. I want to be able to help him but you'd just get in the way. He'll be perfectly fine when you return, Goh, just go and catch that giant Magicarp, I'll even increase the available spending money you two have so you guys can have plenty of fun while you're there!"

But Goh wasn't Fazed. "I don't care about the money or the magikarp, Professor! I care about Arron!"

"Goh, please just listen to me! Please, everything will be fine, we just want to help and you'd cause more trouble than it's worth."

The tears began to spill more freely now, and Professor Cerise was starting to feel really bad. It was nearly impossible to Change Goh's mind once it was made, and the boy had some serious guts when it came to the people and things he cared about. Raboot stood a foot or two away from him, watching the conversation with a concerned pair of eyes.

'What happened to forming a bond with him? What happened to being partners? If I'm not there to help him, then what kind of trainer am I?"

The professor was silent, without a response. Nothing he could say would change the boy's mind, so why say anything at all? Goh looked at Raboot pleasingly, obviously looking for help, but the rabbit pokemon kicked her feet and stared at the floor, obviously unwilling to insert herself into this mess. Her inaction only served to fuel Goh's anger and despair. "Fine then, Raboot, go ahead and backstab me. I know you hate Arron, I bet you hope he'd drop dead. Go ahead and let the professor stop me from helping, I want nothing to do with you!"

"You win, professor. Have what you want, go ahead and distrust me and keep me away from Arron since I'm such a distraction. Or maybe you never cared about that! Maybe all you wanted was a test subject. You lied to me, professor! I trusted you and you lied!"

And with that, Goh ran out the door to meet Ash, with both Cerise and Raboot wearing pained expressions. Rosemary walked up to the professor, a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry that happened, Cerise, but thank you for fulfilling my request. The boy would only serve as a way for Arron to distract us from the delicate process of melding minds."

But instead of being reassured by her words, Cerise just sneered. "You just caused me a lot of problems, Rosemary! Remember this very clearly: the only reason you are here is because Chrysa trusts you, and I trust Chrysa. So make sure you don't fuck up."

Rosemary was unfazed by Cerise's hostility. "My demand was necessary, Professor. If Arron is as intelligent as you say, and as callous as you say, then he will attempt to reach out to Goh and use him to prevent the mind meld. It has happened before, with catastrophic consequences for everyone involved. This isn't a game, nor is it a simple matter of the cliche 'and how does that make you feel' armchair psychology we're all used too: it's a fragile process that takes complete focus and discipline, as well as isolation."

Cerise's intense expression simmered down a little bit, but he remained irritated. "Do what you need to do, Chrysa will call me if either of you need anything."

Rosemary nodded and walked down the hall to the Laboratory rooms, to room seven. Chrysa waited outside, and they nodded to each other in an informal greeting before she typed in a pass code and the door opened, revealing a stark white room devoid of objects and a large, furry dog/badger pokemon that must have been Arron.

Rosemary nodded to Gardevoir, who nodded back in understanding before her trainer walked out, leaving the both of them alone in the room.

Arron and Gardevior stared at each other with an intensity not seen before, each analyzing the other. She could already tell this was going to be her most challenging patient yet.

"I am Gardevior." She relayed to him in a neutral tone.

"I do not like you, and I will not cooperate with you." He replied .

Her expression remained unchanged. "How you feel about me is inconsequential. Your cooperation, however, is not. I will not play games with you, child, I never do."

Arron's scowl deepened. "I am no child."

Gardevoir rested her hands behind her back in a resting position as she approached him, using her height advantage in an attempt to show dominance and intimidate him. "You are a child, both physically and mentally. Now, if you were to stop acting like one, then I might stop calling you one. I am here to discern your impairment"

Arron stood up, growling. "I do not have an impairment."

"We shall see."

"No, you won't. There is nothing to see, wench. Leave, now."

Gardevoir had long since become used to insults and threats from her patients. She and her trainer specialized in the most difficult of patients, those that were often avoided by other private psychiatrists due to the severity of their issues and their hostility. Gardevoir wasn't scared of those she treated, as she was perfectly capable of protecting herself.

"Your trainer and friends believe otherwise. If you won't cooperate, I will make you cooperate. I was advised to use any means necessary."

Arron grinned maliciously. "Then you'll leave this room in a bodybag."

"You are not the first to threaten me and you won't be the last. I do not fear you."

"You should."

Gardevoir chuckled mirthfully. "No, I beg to differ. You are a mewling ice type pokemon who is absorbed with himself. I was told you were narcissistic, but I wasn't prepared for you to be so narcissistic that you were detached from reality."

"You want to test that theory? We can."

"There is no test. I am stronger than you, that is a simple, irrefutable fact."

Arron's grin widened. "I didn't mean physically."

That was Gardevoir's first red flag that this wasn't a normal patient. To allow a psychic type into your mind is the equivalent of giving a murderer your gun: it left you completely vulnerable. Either this pokemon was insane or truly confident i'm his mental fortitude, possibly both.

"Five minutes ago you didn't want me in your mind. Now you are daring me to enter. Are you brave or stupid?"

"I'm just full of surprises."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Enter and you can find out. At your own peril, at least."

Gardevoir was intrigued to say the least. This pokemon had something planned, something sinister, but she could.not back down lest she concede to him. She had faith in her willpower and intelligence, so she would not be made a fool of, whether this was some elaborate bluff or not.

"Fine, then. I'll play your game. But just remember: I never lose."

Gardevoir sat down, crossing her legs and knitting her digits together as she began to close her eyes and focus. True to his word, the mind before her was raw and unprotected but fascinatingly complex, almost alien in nature. It bubbled and rippled like dark, swampy water and boiled with an energy she couldn't quite identify. That was her second red flag.

She hadn't entered his subconscious yet, instead she took some time to probe the superficial layers presented to her, attempting to unweave any nets that could be used to trap her in false positives and misdirect her. She found that the mind was a very sentient thing: it didn't like intruders, and thus one had to always remain vigilant.

But to her surprise, there was nothing of dangerous intent to be found. This pokemon had quite literally opened himself up to her, but to what end? It was obviously sane, that much she could tell, but it absolutely believed it was one-upping her. That was her third red flag.

Before, three red flags was always a signal for her to pull put and reconsider her options and fortify herself for a future plunge, but there would be no other future plunge. Her trainer had informed her that the professor was already unhappy they were here, and any deviation from the original plan would disqualify them from performing further psychiatric evaluations on this pokemon.

Not to mention that there was little she could thoroughly analyze: for all intents and purposes, these were clear waters. It was quite possibly the only 'It's quiet, too quiet' scenario that she had ever encountered in her entire career as a conduit.

She had two options at this point: remove herself and forfeit, or plunge and risk everything. Both had terrible possible outcomes attached, but only one provided a modicum of a chance of success.

So, she decided to take the risk. She plunged into the dark mess of his mind, feeling the ice cold energy engulf her like a jumping into a frozen pond without the ice on top. The process had begun.

Rosemary and Chrysa sipped champagne in the hall outside the room, listening for any disturbances. Rosemary's connections to Gardevoir were instantaneously dulled, causing her to stand up abruptly.

"How is that possible?"

"How is what possible?"

"My latent psychic link to Gardevoir was just muddled."

"Should we free her then?"

"No, to do so would cause brain damage, it's all up to her to either escape on her own."

Chrysa's eyes widened. "We can't just leave her there!"

Rosemary sat back down. "There's nothing we can do. We shouldn't interfere, and she's still safe for now, I can sense it. Let's just hope she is powerful enough.