Headline Today: Alleged Murderer still on the run, reported to be hiding within Paradise

A pokemon sighted causing trouble in several different sectors of the city is suspected to be responsible for the deaths of a HAPPI rescue team within the outer districts just a few weeks ago. The criminal is still at large, and citizens are asked to notify the local authorities if they are seen within the area. Patrolling rescue teams will be dispatched to the area immediately after.

The perpetrator is believed to be a male zoroark of young age, recently arrived to the city. Zoroark possess the ability of illusion, which allows them to cloak themselves from view. Historically, this ability has been used for criminal activity, which has led to the city's policy of mandating energy-muting scarves for this species. Citizens are urged to take caution, as this power makes spotting and apprehending the criminal dangerous.

~ The Daily Pelipper

~\({O})/~

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WALLS CLOSING IN

~\({O})/~

The Hut On Stilts

~Zoroark~

"W-what?"

The voice came out slow, shocked. Zoroark couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Burning down the room of records….

"Didn't you hear me?" Amadeus said. He turned around, and Zoroark saw the steely expression on his face. "I want you to burn that room to the ground."

"But why?" Zoroark asked. His voice was strained; it was half a plead for reason, to please not make him do this. "W-what if you need something else from there?"

"Are you disobeying me?" Amadeus snarled.

Zoroark gulped and shrunk back a little. But there was nowhere else to shrink back. He was up against the door already. So he stopped shrinking.

"It's just that, if I do that, it'll break my cover," Zoroark said. "They're already looking for somemon after the last one happened. I disguise myself as a fire type. A fire type." He paused to take some heavy breaths. He didn't realize how on-edge this had him. "I-if I burn that place down, who do you think they're going to come looking for?"

There was silence.

"Then perhaps the time for cover is over," Amadeus said. "I want to make a statement. An attack. We need to hurt them from the inside badly enough that they won't recover in time for their precious construction project to begin. I want it done."

"But—"

"You can take on a new disguise," Amadeus interrupted him. "Sign up again. But I want the city damaged and spooked."

There was an uncomfy pause of silence. Zoroark considered

"Well?" Amadeus growled at him. "What are you waiting for? Get out of here."

"It doesn't make sense," Zoroark stammered. "You're just—you're just acting on anger. You want to hit them. You want to make them hurt but you can't just burn things down and expect it to work out, you need, you need a strategy, you need…"

He was rambling desperately. Because he could not go back to the HAPPI building and carry this out. He couldn't do it, he couldn't take the stress, the persecution. He would rather…

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

"I won't do it," he said. "It's senseless. I'd rather leave the city."

"Then leave." Amadeus' voice was low, and in the firelight his blades glistened for the first time. Deliberately turned to catch the light. "But don't expect your departure to go smoothly."

And then the blades let their light escape. "But help me destroy this villain, and circumstances can change for us both. All I need from you is a short period of hardship."

That moment was when Zoroark should have done anything else. He knew it. He should have said something more, something to tell Amadeus he wasn't okay with this. Maybe they could negotiate another way. But he couldn't go up against those blades.

Instead, he just hung his head, and said nothing. His silence spoke the answer for him.

~\({O})/~

HAPPI Building

"That was the longest bathroom trip I've ever seen," Alice said, as Zoroark-as-Braixen finally dragged himself back through the hallways and towards his post. He didn't know how long it had been. At least an hour. It took time to crawl out of the building, sneak halfway across town, and then make the journey back.

"I think I caught a stomach bug or something," Zoroark-as-Braixen heaved, clambering back towards the door. He felt dead. He was sure he looked like it too. Half his concentration was just on making sure his illusion didn't fail.

"So is that why you've been acting all weird today?" Alice asked him. "Ever since the airship landed, you're all uppity. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Zoroark said. A little too hastily. "I just…"

He trailed off. What else could he say without digging himself a bigger hole? He was deep enough as is. It was like every word he said brought the walls closing in around him a little bit closer. Couldn't he just stop?

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Alice said, like she was trying to prompt an answer out. He jumped, literally jumped in the air like a frightened cat, and then looked over. She was staring him up and down, and only then did he realize how much of a hairline he was on.

But he didn't say anything. He just straightened up stiffly and stared straight ahead, hoping that she couldn't hear how loud his heart was pounding like it might escape his chest. Bad move.

"Look, whatever you've got going on, it's not my business," Alice said. "But keep it out of your work. I'm not going to cover your tail if you don't break even."

Then she turned back to curling up outside the door, and rested her head on her paws. Still awake, but an easy position to doze off in. Zoroark understood. All he wanted to do was let his legs give out right here and now, slide down against the wall, and doze off.

But they didn't. His nerves were so high that he stood where he was for the rest of the night.

~\({O})/~

~Alexis~

When Alexis was in the other world, he'd been a late sleeper. Long nights and short days, hard sleep and a foggy head. When he was dragged here, he slept early and rose earlier. It was pure biology, he later learned. None of the quirks of his old body had carried over to his new one—and his new one had quirks of its own. A dewott liked to rise with the sun, and that was that. A dewott loved water, even though Alexis feared it, and that was that. A dewott was a dewott, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

There were days when the little things got to him, and he liked to shove them in the back of his head like the insignificant pet peeves they were. There was no need to ruminate on the fact that seventy years was three fourths of a human lifespan and only a fourth of a dewott's, how he felt so old when he was just so young. He could ignore that preening shed, blue fur from his whole body and not just the top of his head was now a part of his daily routine (he even thought of it as fur now, not hair). His joints were in different places; that was harder to ignore even now, but he'd gotten over the tripping and the clumsy handling years ago.

No, what got to him nowadays was the loneliness.

The other Human Saviors, he'd heard, had the luxury of getting their memories erased. Not him. He was the lone survivor of hundreds, and the one who brought him over didn't have that power. When everything was said and done, the others didn't remember their pasts. They could relax and just be pokemon.

Not him.

That was his burden. Being the only bright mind in a world of simpletons. Being the only Human mind. He'd fostered in a new age, where pokemon could become just a little more advanced, a little smarter, a little more Humanlike. But he'd never gotten rid of it completely. There was still a wall between them and him, a wall of simplicity. When he died, he wondered: would he be returned to the Human world like all the others? Or would he die a pokemon?

He couldn't answer that question.

Alexis groomed his fur, donned his scarf—clothes were another thing he'd never gotten over losing—and rapped on Elliot's quarters on the way out to wake him up. Now Elliot… Elliot was the late sleeper. Was that biology too? Rodents were nocturnal. Alexis didn't know.

But just as he had risen, so had the rest of HAPPI Headquarters. The guards outside the Director's personal office had changed an hour ago, but they were standing behind yellow tape that had been put on the floors of the halls. The tape outlined a path all the way from the entrance of the building down to the Room of Records. And that meant the work had already begun. Alexis had to step swiftly to the side as the first of a parade of pokemon carrying boxes filled with files walked past.

The Nidorina he'd nearly gotten jabbed on apologized with a titter, brushing some of her poison quills out of the way as she marched on. Alexis waved it off, and leaned back against the walls as he watched the parade pass by. He noted with a brief hint of distaste that the files hadn't even been organized before being lopped into the boxes—they'd just been thrown everywhere without rhyme or reason. That was going to be a grimer for them to organize later. He wondered how much of a processing delay there'd by when they actually needed something from there.

Which raised the thought that had been fluttering around in the back of his head all this time: Something about this wasn't right. His reasoning from before still held true—there was simply no reason for these files to leave HAPPI Headquarters. And there were a thousand reasons for them not to go to Cloud Nine. Cloud Nine was a bipartisan government ship, there was no place for private company archives there.

So why? Why move them?

The more he thought on it, the more it became clear there was only one answer that made sense: For some reason, Sparkleglimmer didn't think they were safe here. She must have feared that enough that moving them onto Cloud Nine was less of a risk than keeping them here. But that only raised more questions. What was she afraid of? Why hadn't she shared her concerns with him? He and Elliot practically ran the place when she wasn't here.

~\({O})/~

Director's Office

Alexis threw the doors open without caution. He walked over, placed his paws on Sparkleglimmer's cozy desk, and leaned in. The sylveon, currently reading a paper she held in her ribbons, looked up at him through her dainty reading spectacles. Her eyes prompted him silently.

"Something you need?"

"I need to know why you moved the archives," Alexis said firmly.

"Funny," Sparkleglimmer said. "I think I said my reasoning doesn't concern you."

"You're talking about moving our entire company records, all of it, onto a government ship we don't own," Alexis said.

Saying they didn't own Cloud Nine, the ship he had built, still gave him a head rush.

"Elliot and I run this place when you aren't here," he continued. "If you want to make a change this large, you need to run your reasoning by us first."

Sparkleglimmer regarded him silently for a couple of seconds. The silence grew heavy.

"You're correct," she said, abject of all emotion except for a false, sweet cordial air. "I was in the wrong. I apologize. Sit down."

There was one seat on the visitor's side of the desk, dark, rich wood with a fluffy pink cushion. Alexis took it. The cushion was too soft for his liking.

"I have good reason to believe there are spies hiding in this building," Sparkleglimmer said.

"Spies?" Alexis asked. "Working for who?"

"Unclear," Sparkleglimmer said. "But if I had to guess… It has something to do with the Blackthorn Guild."

"What are you getting at?" Alexis replied. "Are you saying the same flunkies from the Grass Continent who burned down the guild have got pokemon hanging out here?"

"Well, somemon had to be around to steal something from the archives just last week," Sparkleglimmer pointed out. "Or did you never determine exactly what happened there?"

"We did," Alexis said. "And the search is ongoing."

"But after a week, you haven't found the perpetrator."

"They wouldn't be so bold as to steal from the record room a second time," Alexis responded. "That's hardly a reason to move the entire record room somewhere else."

"And did you determine exactly what the perpetrator stole?" Sparkleglimmer continued, like he hadn't spoken at all.

"A spare document for the paradise renovation plans," Alexis responded. He wanted to bite his tongue. It was an important document and they both knew it. And if Alexis hadn't had teams scouring the entire building for any clue of what might have happened to it…

"And wouldn't you say," Sparkleglimmer said, pausing to drink the silence. "A document like that is exactly the type of thing somemon who wished to sabotage our expansion project might want?"

"It is," Alexis said, and left it there.

"This recent incident has proven that these records are not safe within this building," Sparkleglimmer said, "and as such I have chosen to remove them. Furthermore, I expect a perpetrator to have been identified within the next couple of days. With how long your investigation has been ongoing, I assume you must have found something by now."

They hadn't. Alexis held his tongue.

"I will hear no more on the topic," Sparkleglimmer said, and then slipped on the spectacles that were too small for her eyes and continued reading. Still, Alexis held his tongue. Arguing with Sparkleglimmer when her mind had been made up was a recipe for failure.

But even as he exited the room, Alexis' mind solidified into suspicion. Moving the record room wasn't a logical response to one isolated break-in, and anymon with a lick of common sense knew it. There was something more here, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

As soon as he prodded the investigation to get their tails into gear and hunt down that perpetrator.

~\({O})/~

Spinda Café ~ Midday

~Zoroark-as-Braixen~

A mid-afternoon in Pokemon Paradise was nothing like a mid-afternoon in the middle of the seas. Ocean afternoons were harsh and sunny, smelling of sea salt and a faint fishy breeze. Afternoons in Paradise were dry and stale, with a sun that shone down but didn't pierce through the chilly cold air. Zoroark's breath came out in cloudy puffs today, and he felt lucky that he had such a thick coat of fur to keep him warm. Alice, who did not have the thick coat of fur that he did, had stiffer movements than usual. Vaporeon were less mobile in cold weather, she explained.

Their guard duty meant they could take their jobs later than usual in order to get what was apparently considered by the upper board to be a decent amount of sleep (four hours was barely enough to function, Zoroark stewed, not anywhere close). Taking a job late meant all the comfy ones had already been snatched away, and only the leftover jobs no-mon wanted to take were left. Rather than let the system randomly assign them one, they both took single-pokemon jobs for themselves. Which meant they'd be separating for the day. Alice got a job on the other side of town helping dispose of all the junk from the wall, which had apparently been haphazardly lopped into a different part of town rather than properly disposed of. Zoroark got a waiter job at Spinda Café that everymon else seemed to avoid.

He quickly learned why it had stayed on the board that long.

"Waiter? Waiter!" an impatient snap. "Over here, posthaste. Bring a cloth."

One of the restaurant customers, a machoke with sheet white skin and a black bow-tie, rudely waved Zoroark-as-Braixen over from his table. As Zoroark got closer he noticed the grainy texture of the whiteness—was he covered in some kind of white powder?

Now that he thought about it, nearly all the 'mon in this restaurant were covered in some kind of strange makeup patterns. They also looked stupidly wealthy, both from the goofy pieces of clothing they wore and how they carried themselves. Maybe it was some new trend only the rich could afford.

Everything about the machoke's demeanor and face read with annoyance; down by the floor was a shattered glass of what had been a reddish drink and was now a reddish puddle on the floor dotted with glass shards.

"Tell me, what type of dishware does this restaurant use?" he asked scathingly in an accent that screamed obnoxious.

"I… I don't know," Zoroark-as-Braixen muttered truthfully. He'd only been working here a day.

"Well, I'd like to see the manager," the machoke said. "I don't pay out of pocket to dine at this restaurant only to be served my fermented berries in a corner store glass. The nerve…"

"The manager isn't available right now," Zoroark said mechanically. He'd had to answer other questions the same way twice now; the manager was also the head chef for some reason, and the chef was busy cleaning up a massive soup spill in the kitchens.

"And while you're at it, where is my soup?" the machoke continued in that ridiculous accent. "I've been waiting here an hour for my meal; there's only so many glasses of fermented berries I can drink, you know."

Zoroark would know. He'd had to replace the bottle twice.

"An unexpected setback has delayed the soup," he recited, "but if you want anything else on the menu I can let the kitchen know and we'll get that to you sooner."

"Unnacceptable service!" the machoke grouched. "I have come to this restaurant weekly and ordered the same thing for years, and it has never, ever! Been delayed."

A single piece of poke was deftly flipped Zoroark's way, landing on the edge of the table. He stared at the small, nearly worthless coin in surprise. Was that supposed to be a bribe?

"Now be a good boy and go tell your manager Alfonso is speaking," the machoke said, straightening the bow-tie he wore. "He'll want to see me, make sure one of his long-time, upstanding customers is bumped up in the queue a bit.

"And don't forget that cloth!" Alfonso called after Zoroark as he rushed over to the kitchen.

The restaurant groaned and creaked as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past the doors; the lights flickered a little as if the building were in a storm, and the walls ever-so-slightly sagged the way the wind blew. The first couple of times it had scared Zoroark; now he just ignored it and made his way towards the kitchen. But the worry never quite disappeared: this building was falling apart no matter how nice it looked on the surface.

And it only got more ramshackle backdoors. Zoroark was pretty sure none of the customers out there would eat another bite if they knew where the food came from.

The counters of the kitchen were grimy, stained with the dried remnants of food that hadn't been cleared off certain areas in a long time. The floor was uneven, dirty tiles cracked and showing the tightly-packed ground underneath. The spaces between counters and other platforms were narrow; a couple 'mon had to inch past Zoroark-as-Braixen when he walked through them. Just like the rest of the building, the place hadn't been renovated in years.

"Well, we can't give him soup that's all over the floor," the weavile manager told him. "He'll just have to wait."

In the end, Alfonso paid for the wine and left with a huff and a declaration he'd never eat here again.

After working non-stop for five hours, Zoroark finally got a break. His legs ached from all the walking he'd been doing, his head ached from all the angry complaints he'd had to listen to, and he felt ready to droop over from lack of sleep. It was taking some concentrating to keep his illusion in play. But there were still a couple hours left on the clock before the restaurant closed, so he couldn't leave just yet.

It was then he saw the hood. Another customer sat in an overlooked corner table right near where he was, a hood pulled down far over their face. It was a dull teal, but Zoroark recognized the cloth immediately. Was that…

He couldn't help it. Some kind of childish curiosity propelled him further, until he realized—

"Elliot?"

"Quiet!" the pikachu hissed, pulling his drink closer and the hood of his cloak a little further down. "You're going to blow my cover."

"You… come here often?" Zoroark asked, keeping his voice to a hush.

"Not really," Elliot said in a hushed voice. "Pokemon would catch on sooner or later if I did. I like my privacy."

He took a sip of his drink, then look around to make sure no-mon had noticed.

"Sit down if you're going to talk. We'll draw too much attention like this."

Zoroark didn't think the manager would like him sitting down with a customer, but he was on break… he sat down on the opposite chair, taking another look around just in case anymon was looking. Even though no-mon was, the idea still set him on edge.

Elliot took another sip of his drink.

"So, you made it," he said. "You're in Paradise. How's it treating you?"

Several different things went through Zoroark's head. Immediately, he scrambled for the most inconspicuous thing to say.

"Let's just say rough," he said.

"Not what you were looking for?" Elliot asked.

"Not what it cracked up to be," Zoroark-as-Braixen responded.

"You know they'll drag you off to jail if they find you out," Elliot said, and for a moment Zoroark went stone still. He saw the darkening look upon Elliot's face. Elliot didn't know he was in cahoots with…

"Your disguise," Elliot said, going back to sipping his drink. Zoroark relaxed. But only a little. Of course, he should have realized. Everything had him on edge right now.

"And you're not going to rat me out?" he asked. A probe, to test the waters.

"Alexis knew you were here weeks ago," Elliot said. "If I wanted to rat you out, you'd have been turned in long ago."

Was that supposed to be relieving? Zoroark had to fight down some more jitters.

"Well, uh," he began. "Thank you. For that."

"Sure. No problem." Another sip from Elliot's drink. "Alexis would say he'd disapprove, but he wouldn't give it a second thought. Me… I wish it didn't have to be like this. If pokemon have to hide themselves in plain sight just to get by, it means everything Paradise stood for has failed."

To that, Zoroark just looked around the tavern, and into the fancier section of the restaurant beyond. Nothing about this place looked like paradise, not if you really looked. It was a glass beauty that shattered the moment you stared too hard.

"It's a big city now," he responded. What else could he say? "Bad things happen. You can't control all of it."

"Oh, I know," Elliot said, now just stirring the hot drink. He had a faraway look in his eyes now, one that put miles of distance between him and Zoroark. "Paradise wasn't ever about controlling everything. It wasn't about fixing every mistake. Paradise was just about making the world a little better. A place that would bring you some joy, help you along the way if your path was hard, offer a warm bed and food even if you didn't have anything."

He took another gulp of his drink.

"I guess we failed that pretty early on."

~\({O})/~

Then

In the ice palace that floated high above the skies, Alexis and Elliot found themselves glued to the ground. The ice felt numbingly cold even through Elliot's fur, and the pressure was crushing him further into the ground than he could take. The reason was clear: there was no way they could beat It.

What floated in the middle of them was massive; the embodiment of doom and destruction trapped in the form of a monstrous snowflake. Two measly pokemon never had a chance against that thing, not in a million years. And that doubt only made It stronger. The winds were strong enough to pin them to the ground, and the more Elliot felt they couldn't do it, the less possible doing it became. And that meant… everything they had accomplished had been for nothing. All this way, just to get crushed under the literal pressure of their doubts and fear. Elliot could already feel his head grinding into the ice painfully, pushed further and further with each passing minute.

Alexis, his oshawott partner, was in a similar situation. Body ground down into the ice, face splayed out in a similar grimace to Elliot's… Elliot couldn't bear to look much longer. He wanted to shut his eyes, but they wouldn't leave Alexis'. Sure, maybe they'd die here, but at least they'd die together.

And somehow, with that burst of positivity, the winds lifted. It was just a little, just enough for Elliot to feel his face press into the ice a little less, but it was enough. And Alexis, who had always been the more strong-willed of them, the more hard-headed, the more determined, took the opportunity. A stubby white paw rose from its position against the ground, and pushed up. Elliot watched as breathing hard, Alexis pulled himself up from the ground one torturous movement at the time. Elliot could never hope to muster that kind of willpower. All he could do was cheer Alexis on from there. That was his role. He was the partner, the one who cheered from the sidelines.

But something was wrong. He could feel Alexis' determination; every feeling and emotion was open and bare in this wind, but all that willpower had a bitter edge to it. An edge that seared it black and turned it as bitter as an unripe apple.

"You think…" Elliot heard Alexis growl through strained breaths as he marched towards the viciously blowing snowflake, one step at a time. "You can… wipe everything out right here and now?!"

His voice rose up into a rage-filled cry that flew up towards the Bittercold in spite of the howling, purple winds. The Bittercold met it with a terrible screech of its own, as if It had heard. The resulting wind was so strong Elliot's ears twisted back even though they were being pinned down to the ice so hard he was two seconds away from being crushed. That single screech spoke more words than any sentence could. Anger, hopelessness, pain. The things the Bittercold was made of. Were those the only feelings It could channel, or was it something more?

"I won't let you!" Alexis roared over the wind. In janky motions, he drew the single scalchop that sat on his chest, and pointed it forward as he continued marching across the ice. One step at a time.

"I'm going to slice you up into little ribbons," he spat as he walked. "I'm going to carve out your heart and drive a stake through it. I'm going to destroy you so thoroughly that nothing will be left when they come to collect your remains. You'll go down in history as nothing, a natural disaster that came and went like all the others."

The Bittercold screeched to that, as if It was offended. Could It be offended?

"You shouldn't exist!" Alexis continued. The winds only increased, but they seemed to trouble Alexis less and less. Elliot soon realized what was happening: All that anger, all that frustration… Alexis was channeling it to get closer.

"You're an anomaly! A mistake! And after I've sent you back to whatever hellish master created you…" One last step brought Alexis to the very edge of the ice platform, where the colossal core of the Bittercold outsized him by a million but was only a jump's distance away. He bellowed out his next line. "I'm going to destroy them too!"

His movement now unaffected, he bounded forward, then jumped, his scalchop poised above him like a knife.

"Now DIE!"

Elliot could only imagine the look on his face in that split second. Was it as manic as his emotions were? But it was only a split second he had to contemplate, and then Alexis slammed his scalchop into the Bittercold's core with tremendous force. Millions of spiderweb cracks formed throughout the massive object that was not unlike a frozen, still-beating heart, and then light shone, and it exploded.

And when it exploded, the two of them were engulfed by an instant blizzard of a million snowflakes.

~\({O})/~

Now

Swanna Inn

Zoroark sat in the tavern, somewhat shocked.

"That's not how the storybooks told it," he said.

"How could the storybooks capture something like that?" Elliot asked. "You had to be there to know."

His drink was nearly done. He set the cup down on his empty plate with a sigh.

"When the Bittercold exploded, and the blizzard froze all of Mist, Paradise had to rebuild. Then all those investors moved in, and HAPPI was right after them. HAPPI had all that technology, you see, we needed it. Alexis, he just…" A pause. Elliot was staring glumly at his plate. "Both of us let it happen. They instated a city board, which had different ideas, and before we knew it…"

He was staring really hard at that plate.

"What I mean is, it shouldn't be this way. It shouldn't."

That last word was a snarl. Elliot's paws were digging into the table. Zoroark-as-Braixen could hear the hum of voltage flaring up for just a second—amplified by anger.

Then he seemed to realize how worked up he was, relaxing himself with a sigh.

"You must still make some kind of difference," Zoroark-as-Braixen said. "That's a reason to keep going on, right?"

"Not enough of one," Elliot sighed. "I'm tired of watching things collapse around me while I can't do a single thing to stop it."

There was something they could both relate to.

"Then that makes two of us," Zoroark sighed.

"Yeah," was all Elliot said. He pushed the empty cup and plate away from him, and pulled out a small coin pouch.

~\({O})/~

HAPPI Headquarters

Paradise evenings were colder than Paradise afternoons; they were sluggish, morbid, cold. The chill that had always hung in the air became more daring, running through Zoroark's thick coat and biting at his skin. The breeze that carried it blew solemnly, ruffling fur and blowing pieces of trash across the cobblestone streets. Buildings in disrepair, black silhouettes in the waning light, gently creaked in the wind and ever-so-slightly swayed where they were. Over the city, a dull sunset painted the sky dreary tones of darkening blue and faint yellow, overshadowed by clouds of a coming snow. Even now, the first few flakes were beginning to fall, adorning Zoroak's mane and snout. He quickly had to shield them from view with his powers, hoping that no-mon noticed how they seemed to disappear.

Those he passed by were in a hurry, too focused on their own business to pay him much mind. He was fine with that. He didn't bother them, they didn't bother him, and he didn't attract attention. All he wanted right now was to get back to HAPPI Headquarters, where a meal and a warm bed would await him.

Or, a slightly less cold hallway. The realization that he and Alice would have guard duty again tonight struck him with dismay. Every step he took was sluggish and clumsy, his eyes wide open, his attention half devoted to maintaining his faltering illusion. It was lucky he was posing as a fire-type, and could explain the snow just melted off his body if anymon questioned why no flakes were visible on him. He did not have the energy for faking snow. And he did not have the energy to make it through the entire night after the day he'd had.

Not to mention… Amadeus' words hung over his head like a giant scythe, just waiting to be axed. On top of everything else, he had to find a way to commit arson and somehow get away with it. Somehow hope that after everything, HAPPI wouldn't make the clear connection and come after him. After everything he'd carved out for himself, he was going to lose it due to…

What had he carved out for himself here? Was he happy here? Did any of this make him happy? The more he walked, the more Alice's advice from way back when made sense to him. He could flee here. Pack his bags, and leave in the morning without question. No-mon would even know it was him that'd left, only the purple braixen who'd never attracted attention and had just disappeared without a trace. And assuming Amadeus wasn't having him watched… he'd be gone before anymon could do a thing.

His strides redoubled. Anything to get back to the building faster. His illusion staggered a bit, then caught up. Though his strides had quickened, he didn't have the energy to consistently maintain his illusion. And that little blip had been enough.

"Hey," a pedestrian said, catching his attention. He swiveled his head around like a madmon, looking at the eldegoss who had stopped him up.

"Is something wrong with your foot?" she asked.

He looked down.

His foot wasn't the velvety black paw of his illusion. It was grey, tipped with red claws. And the distortion was spreading, up, up, further up his leg.

It only took a second for the eldegoss' face to light up in realization.

He broke off running. Suddenly all his tiredness vanished, replaced with the intent desire to get far away from here. The cold wind wooshed against his arms, blowing his mane taut behind him. It only stung more now that he was running through it so fast. He wasn't even paying attention to the pokemon that he passed; no matter how many heads turned his way, there were too many for him to even count. He skipped over a skiploom, danced around a machamp, and ducked under a gurdurr's beam before any of them could realize what had happened. He just had to watch out for the purple scarves—

A beam of water suddenly struck the ground in front of him, the water sticking to the street and making it slippery. Before Zoroark could even move to adjust, he was already on the new ice, and he couldn't keep his balance. He slipped, unceremoniously, and fell on his bottom with a pained grunt.

"Stand down!"

His ears pricked up in horrid realization. He hadn't even seen who had fired the water beam yet, but that sounded like…

From out of the crowd, Vaporeon Alice bounded forward. Her paws hit the ground swiftly, melting into the ice like they were water and reforming with grace. He should have been relieved to see her. His split-second instinct was to be relieved to see her.

But she wasn't relieved to see him. Her face was hardened into a glare, and it was boring holes into his own.

"Stand down, outlaw," she growled again viciously for good measure. Zoroark was shocked, nearly too stunned to get a grip on the situation. He slowly raised his claws, in an act of surrender.

Panic. Panic, running through his bones, causing him to breathe heavily. His mind caught up with his body. He'd read the wanted posters. They said he was a murderer. He couldn't be caught here. He wasn't going to live the rest of his life a prisoner. He couldn't. He couldn't. He had to get out of here.

Alice made to blast his paws with water in order to stiffen them up, but at the last second Zoroark rolled out of the way. The water flew through the air and crackled against the cobblestone. By the time that it landed, Zoroark was long gone.

He sped down an alleyway. Running, faster and faster, his body burning fuel he didn't have. He didn't even know where he was running at this point, just that he had to get away.

The lid of a dumpster banged behind him, the sound of something heavy landing on it. Something hit the ground behind him with a softer noise, and then the patter of swift footsteps whistled through the alley. He jumped as a blast of water froze the ground under him, turning it to ice. Alice was still after him.

The walls let up in seconds; he tore out into another large street just like the first, crowded with pokemon all around. Zoroark realized: this was his chance! He ducked suddenly diving into the crowd that reacted to him with surprise and shock. Then, before Alice could catch up, he dove behind a couple of signs that had been set up near one of the fancy-looking storemarts. He could see from behind one of the cracks in the sign that Alice had entered the crowd just moments later, looking around for him wildly. And one of the crowd, a jigglypuff, had just pointed her towards the sign…

Zoroark shut his eyes, summoned a random illusion, and hoped he had the energy to pull it off.

Seconds later, a wimpod scuttled out from behind the sign, entering the crowd with little more than a few glances his way. No-mon noticed a wimpod.

He only dared to spare a few glances back as he went. Alice didn't seem to have noticed where he went; she was just looking around with a confused and slightly angry expression on her face.

Her gaze from before, when she'd had him out in the street, stuck in his head. A clear image of her face, hardened and fierce, all of it directed at him. It sent trembles through his bones. But she couldn't see him right now, and that was how it had to be.

The wimpod soon disappeared from view, and that was that.

~\({O})/~

HAPPI Headquarters

"Hey."

A voice jarred Zoroark-as-Braixen out of his stupor. He was learning against the walls of the headquarters, catching his breath wildly. He hadn't stopped running the whole way there. He barely felt well enough to keep his illusion up in its usual detail, but he knew that he had to. After what had just happened, he wasn't going to risk it.

He didn't even have to look up to know where the voice was coming from: after weeks of sharing a room, he knew what his assigned partner sounded like.

"Hey," he said between breaths, trying to sound casual.

"Something happen on the way here?" Alice asked, and a pit formed in Zoroark-as-Braixen's stomach. Was this a test? Had she connected the dots? If so, did his answer matter?

But if this was a test, she'd expect him to answer like it wasn't. So he'd have to give it his best shot at a lie.

"Got out late at the restaurant," he said. "I had to run all the way back here to make it in time."

If it was a test, he seemed to have passed.

"That's no surprise," she sighed. "Swanna Inn has the worst workloads, I swear. Did they even pay you?"

They had. It was basically spare change.

"Not much," he groaned. His breath was still rasping a little as he pulled himself to his utterly aching feet and stiffly walked with her through the gates and towards the building.

"Next time, why don't you try taking rest breaks instead of running the whole way there?" Alice said. "You push yourself less that way."

Big words, when she'd been the one to chase him. But there was no way she could know that. He just nodded, stared towards the ground, and kept his eyes trained forwards. Refusing to reveal the slightest amount of guilt or fear.

The mess hall was well-lit and semi-warm, compared to the snow that was falling outside. The food was depressing as usual, some kind of grey, tasteless meat Zoroark was fairly sure counted as fish. But when they were processed into slabs of meat that didn't look like meat… he couldn't tell what it was now. It filled him, enough.

After dinner, there were a few hours of free time for those who hadn't taken night jobs to do as they wish. Zoroark and Alice's guard-duty shift wouldn't begin for another couple hours. He dragged himself through the halls, drooping with exhaustion. He knew he had to get some sleep, even just an hour, before he collapsed, went crazy, or both.

He had to have forgotten the stretch of time from there to his bed, but he had the deepest, most dreamless sleep of his life. An hour later, Alice prodded him awake for guard duty. Rising from his slumber, Zoroark-as-Braixen yawned, then marveled at how rested he felt. His illusion hadn't even canceled out in his sleep like he thought it would. Could a single hour of sleep have done that much?

Satisfied that he'd be getting up, Alice headed for the door. Zoroark stretched further, then suddenly jumped as the clatter of something falling to the floor by his nest hit his ears. Looking over at what the noise was, he was shocked to find something that shouldn't have been there: A folder.

And inside was a file. A very important file.

~\({O})/~

Music of the Week!

Here's Your Destiny – Sonya Belousova, Giona Ostinelli

Strike, Brother – Robert Carolan, Sebastian Gainsborough