POV: Cyrus / LOCATION: Galactic Veilstone HQ


Routine fire drills are necessary practices in company operations. Since Galactic Energy was first established seven years ago, our employees have had to practice twice every six months.

How is it possible that we've had seventy incidents of improper usage of fire alarms? I do not employ children, but that's what I have. Children with no heed for consequences, who act on every impulsive heed.

They think it's funny. Once I take out the fire marshal's expense from their paychecks, then they will finally learn. Who will be laughing then?

"The universe is giving you strong hints that we need security cameras in this circus," Jupiter says.

I dislike being watched. Headquarters is my haven, not my prison. Regardless, I have other means of finding the perpetrator, and when I get to them they will crack…

Anyhow. While I plan for the perfect punishment, there are more pressing matters to address.

"I have a special mission for you," I say to my three Commanders.

"Can I blow stuff up?" Mars says.

"No. Our Galactic Bombs will be useful for another day."

"Can I blow heads off?"

"No. Stick to Pokemon battles to establish dominance. That's one rule of this unfair world we have to preserve."

"Are we going to use that super special secret weapon?" Saturn says.

"The prototype I locked up and explicitly forbade access to? No."

"Does this have anything to do with your grand scheme?" Jupiter says.

Stellar observation, as always, from my right hand. I feel most reassured leaving Galactic in her capable hands once I die.

"I'd like you to inspect these areas of interest." Spreading the Wonder Map across my desk, I guide their roaming eyes back to focus with my feather pen. "Apple Woods. Oran Forest. Treeshroud Forest."

"I'm taking Apple Woods!" Mars exclaims.

"Why do I have to go to out to nature?" Saturn moans. "There are bugs everywhere. It's gross and mushy, and it smells like insect piss."

"You are more than welcome to take your Space Pod," I say matter-of-factly.

Saturn mumbles something about attaching a machete arm to his machine but does not bring forth further objections. "I'll take Oran Forest. At least there will be more Berries than Pokemon."

"So that leaves you with Treeshroud Forest," I tell Jupiter.

"What exactly are we looking for?" she says.

"Signs."

"Of what?"

"Of something indicating that the Mystery Dungeon holds more than meets the eye, Commander Jupiter."

Mars and Saturn bob heads, but Jupiter is not satisfied with my explanation.

"Does this have something to do with you coming back from Mystifying Forest giggling like a schoolboy?"

She fails to understand. They all do. What I discovered there is not something I can carelessly divulge to the rest of the world… not even to the three people who have overseen my development for the last decade.

"I have entrusted you with a mission," I say coldly, "and I expect you to perform your job."

"Yes, Boss!" Mars and Saturn say.

Jupiter rolls her eyeballs loudly. "Fine, don't tell us. Keep it bottled up until you explode. I'm calling a mental hospital to clean that mess up."

After they leave, I sink back into my chair, fingers jabbed into my throbbing temples. These headaches have grown more frequent and intense as of late, but I attributed them to exhaustion and have treated them to more injections of caffeine and over-the-counter medication. My acetaminophen tablets have carried me so far, but it might be time to move onto stronger analgesics such as codeine…

Galactic Energy. Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter. Cynthia. That traitor. The other four Time Gears. If I die before I can tie up those loose ends, I will be too angry to become a spirit.

Regardless, I cannot let my Commanders finish what I have started. I must return to Foggy Forest. I was so close to harnessing its secret until our Champion the Radiant got in my way.

Sighing, I reach for my coffee cup. Despite it overflowing with water from the sprinklers, there are still dregs at the bottom, which means caffeine can still be extracted. Mustn't waste it.

I reach for my drawer and empty a bottle of acetaminophen tablets. Solids will be easier to keep down if I chase it with fluids. Cramming a handful of non-prescribed drugs into my mouth, I take a powerful swing of watered-down coffee.

As I am to swallow the muddy concoction, the last traces of sunlight fall over my desk, revealing a long, glimmering strand of fabric under the bottles.

No… not fabric. Hair.

I spit everything out at once.

What the hell is her hair doing in my drawer? When did it get there? Why?

Unless…

The puzzle pieces click together into a horrifying picture. My heart accelerates, constricting with palpitations.

"Damn you!" I hiss.

Without a second to waste, I fly to the door—which flings open to a familiar face.

"The sleeping pills didn't work yet?" Cynthia blurts.