The sterile lights of the quarantine area were almost more daunting than everything behind those still sealed doors. Like a hall in front of a dentist's office, they filled Yoshikage's heart with palpable feeling of trepidation. Unlike a visit to the dentist's office, it was not something to be done with - she had to go through this once per two days.

The timer above the sealed doors showed that she had about 12 more minutes to kill - by doing absolutely nothing. Even something as simple as reading a book was not allowed for some reason.

Her eyes glazed over the walls, falling on the massive poster, stating the rules of the facility. The only reading material allowed in here, and it wasn't like she did not read any of these rules before.

1. No Pokeballs!

1.1. No Master Balls!

1.2. No Ultra Balls!

1.3. No analog Pokeballs!

They have learned the hard way not to use any Pokeball variations. Even Master Balls were ineffective so far, and the bodies of people they lost in finding this tidbit out could not even be recovered for a proper burial.

2. No electronics!

2.1. No recording devices!

2.2. No EMP shielded electronics!

Yeah, nothing electronic worked right in the area. This could be a part of why Pokeballs did not work either, except primitive devices made out of Apricorns and Tumblestones also failed. Robots were useless in this place, even EMP shielded ones, and any recording devices - even primitive magnesium cameras without a shred of electronics in them - were horribly screwed up as well. Which meant they could only use notepads and pencils, and copy any of their findings onto a PC that was on the other side of the quarantine area.

Considering they were working with a Ghost, it was not that surprising.

3. No cute Pokemon!

3.1. No Pikachus!

3.2. No Raichus or Pichus!

3.3. Any Pokemon must be vetted by dr. Nagamasa!

Establishing all of these took a lot of trial, error, and dead Pokemon. Yoshikage was not here for most of THAT mess, though she could never forget that time one of her colleagues had the bright idea to bring an Azurill here.

The screams.

The blood.

The countless hours of physical and mental therapy the guy needed afterwards.

The Ghost did not bode well with cute Pokemon in general, and with Pikachu evolutionary line in particular, but other species were not safe either - it seemed like there was some sort of a possible communicational trigger as well, and following this hypothesis, dr. Nagamasa made sure to put any previously cleared for use Pokemon through psychological evaluations and training.

It was usually Yoshikage's job to test them, in fact.

Not today though.

4. Keep track of your warnings!

4.1. If you have three warnings, leave and report to dr. Nagamasa immediately!

The Ghost gave warnings, to both people and Pokemon. The first one was a hiss. It was not easy to mistake for something else - you could practically feel it in your spine, filling you with otherworldly fear. The second warning was more akin to the sound of a nail leaving a deep, nasty mark on glass, and it made you feel like there was nothing right in this world. The third one was supposed to be a deafening wail. Yoshikage was only on her second warning so far.

She had to keep track of both her warnings, and the warnings given to her Pokemon - since if she mistook one for another, it was going to end in a tragedy.

Three warnings were all anyone ever got. Some did not even get this many - attacking the Ghost, or using a Pokeball on it meant not receiving any warnings, and being turned into a neat little inanimate display for the next person to enter.

The entire process was based on trial and error, with a faint hope of capturing the subject, which currently was the most powerful level 101 on record, maybe barring the Burning Sun of Taineiji - which was a moot point, since Tomohito's bodyguard was lost along with him in Tedorigawa facility massacre.

There was little hope that Yoshikage, or even one of the researchers following her could capture the subject - there were literal hundreds of people working here before her. But on the off chance one of them could succeed, they all had to give it their best, before being transferred to another facility.

The timer reached 00:00. The doors were unsealed.

Taking a deep breath, Yoshikage grabbed a small bag in one arm, an oil lantern in another, and left the room, entering the facility behind it.

It was a mall. An abandoned mall, enshrouded in deep darkness offered by the concrete sarcophagus covering the entire building sans the entrance. The light of the lantern flickered across broken glass and rusted metal, some crunching under her boot. The only sound her ears could grasp in an otherwise overwhelming silence.

About a hundred steps in, she came across a ruined escalator, its steps long since caved in on the machinery. Her eyes could see pathways forward, to her left and her right, all offering different routes through the place. Last time, she went left. This time, she had to try right.

Finding the subject in this place was a task unto itself. Some of her colleagues tried to use Arcanines and other tracker Pokemon, and not all of them returned. Finding it without such assistance could mean spending the two hours wandering through this place without anything to show for it. She preferred to take it slowly, rather than to die fast.

Roughly two hundred steps later, something caught her eye in a broken window display. A moment later, her nose picked up on it too, and despite her not wanting to, she had to approach to confirm.

It was a body lying in a heap, like a marionette with all its strings cut. Roughly three days old, according to the smell and the signs of decomposition. It was completely flayed, so identifying it would've been difficult, if this area was not only available to select few at a time.

Two days ago, Keijun did not return. He had two warnings, just like Yoshikage.

Doing her best at repressing a gag, she put her bag and her lantern down to take a note of his corpse's position in the notebook. They had to send someone with no warnings and plenty of strength here to retrieve the poor guy, who at least was close enough to the entrance. Still, it did not give her much of a confidence that he was dead. Yoshikage knew him. She saw him on that same day he went missing.

She had the same amount of warnings.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, putting the notepad away, and then picking both her bag, and her lantern. She was already turning to continue her walk through the abandoned mall, when something else caught her attention.

Just a dozen steps away.

Watching.

"Oh, hello, little one! Is this your handiwork?" she smiled, pointing at the poor Keijun without looking in his direction, "Did quite a number on him, didn't you? Was he naughty?"

The small shadow did not move from its spot. It did not make a sound either. She suspected that 'no sound' was probably a good sign.

"Hey, I've actually got you something! I know you probably have some already, but can't have enough of the stuff, can you?"

She still forced herself to smile, as she put the lantern down, and pulled her gift out of the bag - a large piece of yellow cloth, several differently coloured spools of thread, and a few sewing needles. She put everything on the ground in front of her, and took a few steps back.

"Take a look!"

It took several impossibly long moments of unnatural stillness before the small shadow hurried to the offering at an alarming speed - it took Yoshikage all her mental fortitude to avoid shrieking at the sight. Luckily, she knew better - the subject sometimes took an offence to this.

She did not need another warning.

Did she?..

The shadow actually got close enough for her lantern to make sense of its form, and honestly? Yoshikage kinda wished it did not. Not because she did not know what it was - but because now she knew for sure what Keijun's skin was used for.

"Do you like it?" she tried her best to suppress the urge to either faint or barf. Each passing second made either more probable.

Several long, clawed shadows emerged from beneath the sickening coverings, each somehow being too large to fit underneath, despite doing so just before. They took stock of the thread, touched and measured the cloth, and checked the needles, before all disappearing back into the small figure, along with the offerings. As if neither was were here in the first place.

The figure stood there for what felt like an eternity, as she felt a disturbing, unnatural, baleful gaze boring into her.

Then, she blinked.

And the shadow was gone.

She stood there still for another minute, just to be sure, before turning back, and slowly walking on autopilot towards the entrance, barely registering what was even happening. Even returning to the sterile-looking quarantine zone did not allow her to relax as much as she wished.

She felt like she just lost ten years of her life in that single exchange. And she still had to go back the day after the next.

She almost wished she offended the Butcher just enough to get her third warning today.