Oooh boy. You guys ready? Part Eight is about where, ahem, the Dit hits the fan. (Not literally, ow!)

Sorry, I was waiting to use that... ^^' On with the chapter.

"You're going in there?"

"What choice do we have?" Imposter's voice shook. "Olympia said we needed to stop Team Flare. Besides, Lysandre's the one behind all this, right? I think we can reason with him. Doesn't he like us?"

Froakie balked. "There are so many issues with that suggestion that I don't know where to start."

"I'll take that as a maybe." Adjusting its bag, it marched up to the door. A lump the size of Sinnoh was forming in its throat. "We're totally unprepared for this, aren't we?"

"Yep."

"Yeah. Well, let's go. We've gotta do this."

"You're stalling."

"Absolutely."

With that, Imposter took a few deep breaths, shook its head rapidly, gave itself a slap - this would get it used to its form rather quickly - and wandered into the café before giving itself a chance to think about what it was doing.

The only thing that seemed out of place was the large, rectangular hole in the floor and the stairs leading down into it. The ground story was vacated, so Serena must have already gone down. It may as well follow.

The underground headquarters were filled with brightly-suited Team Flare grunts milling about, the occasional Golbat or Mightyena accompanying them. Imposter gulped. This would be difficult; maybe, if it got the chance to Transform into one-

Its thoughts and feet stopped simultaneously when it noticed the human awaiting it at the bottom of the stairs. Froakie leapt out of its arms in surprise. There he was.

The source of today's confusion and the reason Imposter's team members, anticipating the Gym battle that never came, were anxiously shifting around in their Poké Balls: Lysandre himself.

"You," the man said coldly. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Imposter was silent. Even if it could speak human, it was completely paralyzed from fear.

"You're probably very confused," Lysandre went on. "That Holo Caster message was probably like Dizzy Punch to you. For that, I apologize.

"I really did like you, Imposter." He looked down, eyes closed; it seemed he was unable to even meet Imposter's gaze. "You were different from the humans I'd met that day in Diantha's café. When one of my grunts called saying they saw a teenage boy morph into a Pidgey to save his starter, I knew it had to be the work of a Pokémon. It took little time to connect the dots. There was a Ditto walking our streets, acting as a human being. I've pondered why for more sleepless nights than I'd like to say.

"Humans are awful," he admitted quietly. "You're a Pokémon. The purest of beings in this world. Yet you want to join us - why, with everything we've become, would you ever consider, much less want - to do that? Is there perhaps a hope that we have a little decency as a species - that we can recover from our own greed - enough that something so good as yourself would want to emulate someone so terrible as us? Watching your endeavors has kept that hope alive in me for as long as I've known about you. It's the reason we've waited this long to use the weapon."

Imposter was speechless. Froakie grabbed onto its jeans.

"Now, don't think you were ever Team Flare's main focus. The scientists you've encountered were only trying to bring you to me because they knew of my personal interest. We were working on the weapon the whole time; but if there was anything that could convince me not to use it... that would be you.

"But you betrayed me!" Now Lysandre met Imposter's eyes, fuming. It quickly lost a couple inches of height due to the brief liquefaction of its feet. "The weapon was ready. My ultimate dream was about to unfold. Yet I didn't want to have to use it. I wanted humanity to be worth saving. I needed to know that I was right about you! And you didn't give me that chance!"

He stepped up to Imposter, breathing down its face. "Now I have no reason not to release the legendary Pokémon's energy and wipe the slate clean. Just like my ancestor King AZ did three thousand years ago!"

What weapon? What king? Legendary Pokémon? Imposter was too scared to even try consulting Froakie on anything. It slowly stepped back. Lysandre slipped a hand into one pocket.

"Of course, I can't have you infiltrating my plans now that you know what they are," he continued. "Luckily for both of us, this battle should be over quickly."

Battle? It had to battle him? Imposter would rather run out of the room. In fact, the stairs were right behind it. Doing so would not be hard.

That was what it thought, at least, until it turned around only to collide with a wall of grunts surrounding them. It clumsily hit the floor. Its shape flickered, but still held.

"Like I said, I can't have you going around on your own," Lysandre explained. "It pains me to have to do this, but it isn't as if you will survive the attack anyway, so it's best to be rid of you now."

Where was Serena? Was she not going to stop him? It could not take the chance that she would be unable to, so it had no choice. It had to battle. Lysandre's Mienfoo had already been sent out. It stood up, terrified beyond its wits, but sent out a Ditto anyway.

Okay; it knew High Jump Kick was a powerful move, and decided to lead with that.

Mienfoo recovered in moments, as his trainer called his orders: "Acrobatics."

Poor Ditto's eyes bulged with the move. It fainted before Imposter even got the chance to voice its sorrow. That was right; Acrobatics was a Flying-Type move, supereffective on Fighting-Types. If Korrina had taught it anything, that should have been it.

"Get 'em, Ditto. Acrobatics, now!"

Mienfoo looked worn after receiving the hit, but kept on. He leapt forwards in his own High Jump Kick, which Ditto dodged at the last moment.

Grunts had to dash out of the way as the flying Pokémon crashed into the opposite wall. Embarrassingly, he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Imposter, Ditto, and Froakie stole a look at Lysandre as he returned his battler. His teeth were gritted, and his eyes, unforgiving.

The way he threw the next Ball, it looked as though his shoulder might be dislodged. If Imposter tried it, its own probably would be. The Pokémon that emerged was a Murkrow - this one Imposter knew, as they would sometimes flock to Vaniville Town in the winter months. It had many a good memory joining their flock for some practice flying, as long as it was warm enough. Lysandre's looked different from those it knew, however: his crown was ruffled, and his figure was scrawnier. He raised his tail feathers in intimidation.

This was fine. Mienfoo was a Fighting-Type. Murkrow was a Dark-Type. Imposter had the advantage; right?

It tried commanding another High Jump Kick, baffled by how well Murkrow took it - then sliced through with an Aerial Ace. Ditto did not stand a chance.

Lysandre sighed as Imposter sent out its next. "It pains me to do this, of course," he remarked. "The Pokémon you command have never done me any wrong. Their ends should come painlessly, not after being weakened through battle."

Upon hearing this, the Transformed battler eyed Imposter. "Wh-What is he talking about?"

Imposter was too frightened to think about it, much less explain it, so Froakie stepped in. "This guy's a lunatic! He's been playing us all, and now Kalos-"

"Aerial Ace."

That was Imposter, seeing Murkrow coming in close to the distracted Ditto. It gasped, spun and ducked out of the way, landing the Aerial Ace at the last second. Furious, the opponent compensated and hit Ditto with one as well.

"Keep-Keep going," Imposter stuttered. It was too focused on keeping its legs solid to battle correctly, even if it did know how to.

Ditto and Murkrow flew at each other, landing their hits with the precision commonly expected from Flying-Types. A critical hit, and Murkrow went down.

Imposter closed its eyes. This was okay. It was winning. It thought. Whatever Lysandre sent out next could completely turn the battle around. It just had to breathe.

Something in front of it roared, and the Ditto's eyes shot open. Right there was a quadrupedal Fire-Type with a mane almost as majestic as Lysandre's himself. Imposter groaned; how had it even gotten itself into this situation? Why? Was it, the bumbling Ditto trainer, really trying to be Kalos's hero?

As it was pondering this, Lysandre took action. "Pyroar, Hyper Voice."

Imposter instinctively clamped its hands to its ears a second after the opponent followed through. That was it for Ditto. How many did it even have left?

Two, including Limber. There was no question. Whether it was a good battler or not, Imposter needed it by its side, if even for moral support.

Limber hopped out. Almost instantly it knew something was wrong. "Impo... Who is this - where are we?"

To Imposter's chagrin, it turned around. "Is-Is this a battle? What's going-"

Imposter was too focused on Pyroar, who was charging up for a Fire Blast. Eyes widening, it cut its friend off. "Limber, move!"

It was too slow to turn around in time to see the attack coming, and Imposter knew that. Without thinking, it rushed in and swatted Limber out of the way the moment Pyroar released the blast.

The move technically missed, albeit due to an illegal interference by the trainer. Although Limber escaped unscathed, Imposter was now on the ground, having received the brunt of the move. It clenched its fists, trying to pull itself up. A ringing in its ears blocked out most of Limber's frantic worrying, and Lysandre's voice was hardly audible.

"Hmph, good. I've want... ...o that."

It was ready to lose consciousness, if not for a bucketful of water showering over its head. "Don't you go out on me," Froakie demanded. "You stand right the heck up now, y'hear?"

Tears rolled out from Imposter's eyes. But it would stand up; it had to. "Limber," it breathed, "use Transform."

It appeared Limber was already on it. Shakily rising, Imposter looked itself over. The Fire-Type move had almost entirely singed its jacket away, showing its skin in some places through its tattered undershirt. The skin was sheet white, as Imposter never had reason to remember to put keratin in it. Fire Blast; what a move. Of course, that was what it would instruct Limber to use.

Froakie clambered at its feet. He was holding a Hyper Potion that he must have gotten from its bag. "Take it. You look like garbage."

It felt like garbage. It was times like these that it was grateful for Grace teaching it how to use manmade items like potions.

A quick spray-down allowed it to fix its clothes, as well as to see Limber land its hit on Pyroar. As rejuvenating as the medicine was, if there was anything that could make Imposter feel better about this battle, that was it.

Imposter gasped as even this small victory was dashed by Pyroar's next move, a sinister Dark Pulse, knocking out the Pokémon it had hurt itself trying to protect.

It bit down on its tongue so hard that perhaps it would come off.

A lurching in its stomach prevented that, however. Tongues were important, and losing its own could not help matters. So instead it sent in its last battler.

Pyroar used Hyper Voice, taking Ditto down immediately with a well-timed critical hit.

Imposter had lost, its feet wavering. His face steeled, Lysandre called back his Pyroar. "That should show you," he insisted. He turned to his grunts. "Take it to the Masks. They'll know what to do."

Imposter felt a couple pairs of hands grabbing its arms, Froakie mouthing off to them in protest. It was still much too tired to resist. Its vision, blurred by the salty liquid resting in its eyes, was just clear enough to see Lysandre walk away and disappear through a teleporter.

A teleporter... That gave Imposter an idea.

The exhausted Ditto was content resting its eyes as the grunts carried its limp body along to whomever the so-called "Masks" were. It was waiting for one thing only, and had to save its energy for that.

Wwwomp...

After a few seconds, the sound returned.

Wwwomp...

There was no mistaking it; that was the sound of a teleporter activating. It slowly opened its eyes, glimpsing a couple of grunts stepping up to the device.

"Froakie," it whispered. "Froke, listen to me."

The fearful Water-Type looked up. "I have a plan."

Froakie scooted closer, although it did not need to; the humans could not understand their language anyway. "You know how I deform when I go through a teleport?"

Froakie nodded, slowly.

"That's going to give me just enough time to turn into something else. I would become one of them, but they'd be able to figure me out quickly. I'd be the only one that can't speak human."

It looked ahead and gulped. "So the only choice I have is... I'm going to Transform into you."

Froakie blinked. "Wh-O-Okay..."

Imposter nodded. "They won't know which one I am if neither of us talk, so we'll have to be quiet. All we need to do is get away. You got a move that can help with that?"

Froakie paused. "Double Team?"

Imposter almost whisper-yelled. "You know Double Team? Have you been levelling up this whole time?"

Froakie shrugged.

Imposter looked down, pensive. "Then why... Shouldn't you have evolved already, then?"

Now Froakie was the one looking down, this time in embarrassment. "I... don't know how."

Imposter chuckled. "You're a weird Pokémon, Froakie."

With that, the grunts on either side of it hoisted Imposter onto the teleport.

Wwwomp.

Materializing, Imposter immediately recognized the blurry vision of its natural form. Good. Now, where was Froakie?

Wwwomp.

There he was, right on cue. A couple of grunts met its eyes, but it already had a plan. It was funny, Imposter considered; as long as it had known him, it had never once used Froakie as a subject before, although it would admit its curiosity about it. This would be interesting.

It opened its eyes, the process over in a split second. Going quadrupedal after so long would take some adjusting, but it was nothing Imposter was not ready to handle. There would be time to assess this form later. Now it was time to run.

Froakie himself was already Double Teaming, as per his instruction before. It followed quickly, delighting in the confusion written on the grunts' faces.

Tens of Froakie images darted around the corridor; the plan was coming into place nicely, until Imposter remembered something.

Its bag.

"Froakie-" it spat quietly. "I know we're not supposed to talk, but the bag-"

One of the Froakie looked in its direction, then in that of the bag, which was being investigated by a grunt. He quickly gathered a couple illusions and sprayed her with a Water Pulse, then swiftly went in and grabbed the bag.

Imposter was floored for a second how easily Froakie was able to carry it. Days ago, a situation almost identical to this resulted in the two losing the bag because Froakie was not strong enough to take it with him, all the way back at the Lumiose power plant. Imposter had no time to be proud, however, as groups of grunts stood kicking at their illusions and tumbling over each other trying to grab them. The Double Teams were wearing off; Imposter invested a second to use another, then continued leaping away.

Up ahead was a pair of teleporters. Once it reached them, it signalled to Froakie; they would make it look like all the illusions had headed into one, while at the last second, they would shoot down the other. The mass of grunts was too far away to notice them; if the Pokémon were lucky, the grunts would only see the swarm of images and be misled.

The two jumped into their teleport, and found once again that Imposter was a very lucky Ditto.

"B-Beds?"

Froakie seemed unsure if he was seeing things right, but Imposter saw them too: the whole room was lined with human beds, of all things. Apparently this was some sort of break room for Team Flare members. A couple of them were standing against the wall in the corner, sipping coffees and paying the two Pokémon no mind. Good. Maybe the two would have time for a rest now.

Imposter was not planning on actually going to sleep, but its whole team had been knocked out, and it needed time to recuperate, itself. It and Froakie found a vacant bed and were completely unable to avoid the temptation.

They were only about ten minutes into their power nap when the alarm sounded. This was more than enough time for the team, but being awoken so violently was not something Imposter was ready for.

Its lower half toughened to the hardness of rock, just for a second, its head pounding. "Gosh, what is..."

But Froakie was reacting more intensely. "What is that? What the heck is that?" he panicked. "Did we fall asleep? What's going on?"

"Yes, we did-" Imposter looked nervously around. Red lights were flashing from the ceiling, a human voice accompanying them. The grunts in the room were pouring out quickly, Imposter's chances fading fast. It sprang up, focusing on one of the females.

Unfortunately, it was in an awkward position on the bed, and once the Transformation was finished, it had already fallen halfway off. Froakie snickered at this, not even trying to hide his amusement. Imposter had to admit, despite the pain, it was rather funny, and it needed something to laugh at right now.

It carefully got up. That was right; it had remembered to choose a female, in order to get away with carrying its bag, but it was not as used to their figures and would once again have to get coordinated.

Later, though; now it would have to follow these grunts and see what was happening. Froakie hopped unsurely along.

Standing on a podium above a sea of grunts were the Masked Villains it remembered from the power plant. They took turns speaking, the blue-masked one going first:

"Attention, all members of Team Flare! Attention!"

"The time has come, as you all know, for us to launch the ultimate weapon!"

The grunts cheered, some of them tossing their sunglasses in the air the way Trainer School graduates would their caps. Blue Mask continued.

"However! As expected, there is a trainer trying to stop us. Even Dr. Xerosic was unable to beat her."

"She is undoubtedly on her way to Geosenge Town, where the weapon has recently been unearthed. We and the other admins will be going there to stop her, and anyone else who dares interfere."

"Of course, she's not alone. Pokémon League members and some others have also appeared in Geosenge, and we will be needing reinforcements. Anyone with access to the move Fly, join us over there to deal with the intruders."

"The rest of you, hold down the fort here in Lumiose. That is all."

Grunts clamored amongst themselves. Geosenge Town; that was where they were going. To stop Serena. Imposter was relieved beyond belief that she was not yet captured, but still considered its work to be incomplete. As long as she was fighting Team Flare, it would be, too. So it was going to Geosenge.

It glanced down at Froakie. It seemed he had the same idea.

Geosenge was not hard to pick out. Imposter admitted to not knowing the town itself very well, but it was the only city in the region with an enormous metal flower in its center.

That was no inaccurate description. This must have been the so-called ultimate weapon about which Lysandre was going on. And of all things, it resembled a flower.

Was it in this town that Serena had once tried to capture Imposter, thinking it a Flabébé, for its trouble picking a flower color? No, that was Shalour; but that had seemed so long ago. How simple being a trainer was back then.

It swooped down out of sight and landed beneath one of the steely gray petals. Froakie climbed off, and it took a moment to breathe. Whatever was coming up ahead, a few things were certain. It would have to battle. It would have to hold form. Depending on how many grunts were coming, maybe it would even have to step in and save Serena. Or anyone else. If anything, Lysandre would probably be there, and it would have to deal with him. Okay. It was Transforming now. Slowly.

Neck. Not quite as long. Wings. Had to become arms. That was always an awkward shift. Feathers. Those would be clothes. The image on its Trainer Card blinked in and out of focus as its eyes turned. The Card was dirtied now, and its face had been slightly worn off. Oh well. Imposter was used to being a human enough that it did not need the more minor details at this point.

Tentatively, it replaced its bag and crawled out. A flash of red and black, different from that found on the Team Flare uniforms, caught its eye.

Serena! It ran up to her, tripping over itself and landing hard on the grass.

"I-Imposter," she wailed, and it stood. "What are you doing here? Well, I guess it's good to see you. I was just in the middle of Victory Road when I got the Holo Caster call. So I've been carrying this whole Team Flare mess by myself, ever since they got the others. Are you-come on, please tell me you're here to help?"

She was making that face it hated again. That face was way too desperate to belong to anyone, especially someone as capable as her. Imposter knew she was always on top of things and virtually unbeatable - had she ever even lost a battle? - but it understood how overwhelming something like this could be for one person, even if it was Serena Valorie W. of Fortree City, Hoenn.

Her hands were gripping its shoulders. It removed them, holding them in its own, and nodded.

She took her hands away, and the Ditto, feeling generous, reached into its bag for some restores. Once both of them had completely healthy teams, she grabbed its wrist and dragged it to one of the large stones characterizing this town.

"Now, I've seen them do something like..." She fingered around for a small outcropping, then pushed it in. To the Pokémon's surprise, the face of the rock dove into the ground, revealing a secret elevator.

Serena motioned forward. "After you."

Imposter gulped and headed in, Froakie at its feet. Serena followed, the door closed, and everything was dark.

Only after they started descending did Imposter remember its nauseous tendencies.

Imposter Fact of the Day: Yep, I never let Froakie evolve in my playthrough. He (technically she) was the second time I had to choose the Water starter for access to Surf, the first being in a solo run where the Exp. Share was off and it never leveled up aside from the occasional Double Battle. This time, while I did need the Exp. Share, I always kept Froakie from evolving anyway.