King stepped up to his apartment building. Sunlight reflected against its many windows; the rain had since passed, but not before it'd soaked King down to his very bones. His clothes, intent on staying plastered to his skin, were damp and soggy, especially around the shoulders.

He searched the face of the building with heavy eyes. He could almost pick out the windows of his room, apartment fifteen-fourteen, among all the others. After dealing with air-head Terrance, sinking into his bed was exactly what he needed. Maybe a few beers to get him relaxed, as well, even though he wasn't yet twenty-one, but twenty. Close enough. His level of maturity went way beyond where he needed regulation on what he did and didn't drink. He understood the law, of course, but he wasn't going to follow it.

King stepped forward, letting the glass doors of the apartment complex slide open before he headed into the lobby. In terms of layout, the building was much the same as the Battle Company. Castelia City could do with some variety. People and Pokemon bustled about here, filling the room with their noise, blocking his way to the hallway elevator at the far left. He pushed past them, ignoring some dirty looks he got from a select few who didn't enjoy getting thrown off-kilter a little bit. He didn't care much: he had other things to think about.

Turning down the hallway, he went a little ways before stopping at the elevators. He tapped the up button on one of them, watching as it alighted with a soft yellow glow in response to his touch. Yes. Other things to think about. Like the fact that he hadn't paid his rent in… a long time.

There weren't many other options now other than getting evicted. Already, Samantha, his landlord, had warned him that it would happen if he continued not to make monthly payments to her. No more beer then. But he didn't have the money to pay it, especially now that he'd gotten himself fired. Again. He'd have hell to pay, once Samantha heard of that.

The elevator doors slid open. Someone strode out, a Munchlax - that was rare in Unova - trailing at her heels. In terms of usefulness, Munchlax didn't have much going for it, but Snorlax had the potential to be a battlefield asset if used right. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and took their place inside the elevator. He tapped the button for floor fifteen; the doors shut, and the elevator jolted upward. Bland music jingled out from the speakers.

King happened to be a firm believer that no matter what situation, anyone could get out of it if they were rational and intelligent enough. Most people, of course, that didn't pertain to, due to laziness or other factors like not being smart in the first place. For him, however, that would apply to convincing Samantha into giving him more time. She'd probably be waiting outside his door. He would own up to what he had done, then figure out some plan to get the payments to her before she kicked him out.

The elevator came to a stop, then reopened.

He sighed immediately. In front of him, in the hallway, stood Stephanie: an uptight woman in a business suit. King noted she looked particularly rat-like today. He'd never liked her - and not solely because she had an uncanny knack for tracking him down - but because she regularly ran around huffing and puffing with anger. Was it so hard to control your emotions instead of letting them take command over you? Like they were the driver and she the car.

The doors began to slide shut when he didn't step out, but she strode forward and jammed her foot between it, then pried it open with hands which had the nails painted pink.

She glared at him. "Get out here."

He blinked and did so, moving past her. Well, here we go. I'm dealing with a lot of these people today, it seems.

She whirled on him. "Oho, I've been waiting for you, King. Mr. Fired-from-his-job."

"What?" He said, eyebrows knitting together. "How the hell do you know about that already?"

She nodded slowly, confidently. "Oh, yes. Remember Tracey? No, you probably don't, always cooped up in your own head. She works at the Battle Company. Told me all about your little antics, King. I just got done reading her texts!"

He tsked. Damn.

He'd forgotten all about Tracey. He should have paid more attention to who his colleagues were and their connections. He would have foreseen this happening and planned accordingly. Any situation could be overcome with enough intelligence, yes, but this was a slip-up on his part.

"Do you remember the eviction notice I gave you?" She went on, pointing a finger at him. "Well, you've done nothing to prevent being kicked out, so-"

"Listen, Stephanie, just listen for a moment, would you?" He interrupted. "Sort through those memories of yours to where I had a stable job. I've been a tenant for three years, Stephanie, three long years. You're upset. Right. I'm not in the right here, believe me; I'll admit that, but I will get another job, and when I do, guess what? You'll have money coming out your ass, so fast you won't know what to do with it."

"No." She shook her head. "No, I don't believe a single word, Parkman. I'm evicting you, and that is that. I don't want to take this to court, but I'm terminating your lease. If you're not out in a month, to court we go, so get whatever you have in there and. Get. It. Out!"

"Hold-"

"End of discussion! You've got a tongue like a Seviper! Better to rent that room to someone who will pay!" She stormed off, heels clicking.

He sighed. So much for using intellect to prolong his stay in the apartment. He supposed that sometimes, especially when the other person became fueled with emotion, that there wasn't anything you could do. Because of that, in thirty days, he would be homeless.

He took in a deep breath, then exhaled it in one go. Everything had come crashing down around him in a single day; that brittle foundation he'd managed to build with so much time and effort. Should have planned for this. Should have done something…

He shoved his hands in his pockets and started down the narrow hall; its walls painted a cerulean color. There was nothing to do now except keep trudging forward. He'd think of something. He always did.

The door to his room loomed in front of him. The keys he'd had in his pocket jingled as he pulled them out. He stuck it in the lock, turned it, and the door clicked and crept open.

Posters of various Pokemon battles lined the walls. King looked about, shutting the door behind him. Rays of sunlight trickled in from the window at the far wall, splaying out on the clean wooden floor and folded blankets tucked into the corners of his couch. The room still smelled of the breakfast he'd cooked that morning: pancakes. But that wasn't right. How could the smell have lingered for hours?

He threw his keys on to a table by the door. They landed with a clatter as he moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, cold air smacking him in the face.

Gone. Food like that was a luxury at this point, but no sign of the pancakes remained.

Did someone really break into my apartment just to steal pancakes? Really. How pathetic is that?

Calmly, he stepped out from the kitchen and into the living room. The possibility remained that they were still in the apartment, whoever it was that had stooped that low. But if someone had broken in…

To his right, beside the couch, the door to his bedroom lay opened. The slit from which he could see through showed nothing but inky blackness.

He approached, placing a palm on the wooden face of the door and pushing. It creaked with a low groan. He reached inside, peering inward, and flicked on the light-switch.

A man stood at the foot of his bed.

King jolted into motion, darting back into the kitchen, shoes scraping against the wooden floor. He threw open a drawer with a bang. Knife. Where's the knife?

The man came out of the bedroom. King whipped his head up, knife held in one hand, jaw clenched. He froze.

Wispy red hair. Brown eyes. Gray undershirt, with a black tie and pants. He looked… he was looking at himself.

Wait! A voice echoed in his head. I… come in peace!

The form dissolved into light, and in an instant, King stared at a small Zorua with a sheepish grin on its face.