"Today's the day," Maria said excitedly. "Are you ready?"

"No," Morai sighed. "But I don't have a choice."

"Oh, cheer up! This is a chance to dress up all fancy and eat good food. That's all you have to do." Maria stepped back and looked at her dress in the mirror, turning around to see it from all sides.

"That one's nice," Morai said.

"I think I should wear red, like your suit...unless you want to try a different color? Black and red do make you look like you're from Team Rocket..."

"No," Morai curtly replied. "Maroon is my color, and it's darker than Team Rocket's red."

"Alright, alright. Red it is, then. I guess you don't have to choose what to wear. You might not want to wear your boots, though. I think the goal is to make you not look like an evil villain, and those boots scream 'I kick people for fun'."

"Noted," Morai sighed. "Speaking of which, I need to make sure I even have a suit. Mine got torn up in the...well, the—"

"The Ula'ula avalanche of 2023?" Maria joked. "I think the Persian fight is what really did it in. Or the fight with Pollie."

Morai only frowned and shook her head as she got up. Maria grabbed her arm as she went, looking up to her with a smile.

"I only joke," she said. "You're going to do great."

"I know," Morai smiled back. She was replying to the first sentence. The second part was what she wasn't sure about. As she opened the door to leave, she found the warden standing right in front of her.

"Oh! Morai," Sheridan greeted. "There you are. I was just about to bring you your suit to try on. Well, it's not your suit exactly. It's a new version."

"I don't like the sound of that," Morai groaned.

"Well, do you think it's a good idea to have you meet everyone in the same suit you committed numerous international crimes in?" Sheridan argued, taking the cover off of the hanger. "It's not that different. This one just doesn't have the eye buttons on the waistcoat or those straps hanging on the belt that you clipped your mask to. And you'll be wearing different shoes, too. Those boots make you look like a super-villain."

"Right?" Maria said with a smile.

"They're sitting in the storeroom with blood on them as we speak," the warden added. "These are still boots, just not rimmed with metal shaped like fangs."

"I can live with that, I suppose," Morai sighed, taking the clothing from Sheridan. She went behind the screen and changed, emerging with a frustrated frown. Her tie remained untied. "I seem to have forgotten again," she said. Sheridan chuckled and went to tie it.

"You know," she said, "we could change the shirt a bit so that it hides your scar. If you wanted that."

"Everyone knows that I have it and I don't mind it."

"Alright. Now, let's see," she continued, stepping back and looking the prisoner up and down. "You should part with the hand wraps, just this once. You're not going to be fighting anyone."

"But—"

"They've got to go. This is a ball, not a fighting tournament."

Maria walked up to Morai and took her hand. She gently began to undo the wrap and Morai nearly stopped her.

"It really is for the best," she said, continuing to unwrap it. "It'll leave a better impression on people."

Morai let her finish taking them off before looking at herself in the mirror. Even with the changes made to her attire, she didn't exactly look like a reformed criminal. She looked rather beastly regardless of what she wore, which is what her other outfit was supposed to compliment. Sheridan was silently thinking the same thing.

Those teeth and claws and scars...no, no, appearance shouldn't matter as much as behavior. She'll be alright in that regard...right? I should have more faith in her...or maybe I already have too much.

"With all due respect Mrs. Sheridan, if you're so worried, why was everyone given such a short amount of time to prepare?" the doctor asked as he made her some tea. "I understand the relevance it has to the Day of Remembrance, but a even a week more would've been enough. A day, well...I don't know if she's ready for that kind of pressure."

"I didn't choose the day," Sheridan sighed. "I could've explained that to everyone, but I didn't want it to look like I was shifting the blame off of my shoulders. I should've known it was coming, but I didn't expect my superiors to give me so little time. I had already been planning for a ball that was supposed to be everyone's chance to relax a little, while Morai had the chance to meet people that miss her and know that there are those on the outside that do still care for her. When the International Police told me they'd be here to visit, I decided to merge the two together in hopes that there would be more people from outside to vouch for her. In hindsight, it wasn't a very good idea."

"Well, don't say that," the doctor replied, setting a cup of tea and plate down in front of her. "The plans have been set in stone. The more negatively we think about it, the worse it will seem."

"Do you think Morai will be alright?"

"I've had the chance to observe her more over the past few weeks since she's mostly kept herself out of trouble. When she was still at large, she'd pick one person or maybe a small group off, but she also didn't shy away from the challenge of a large group like the ones sent by Interpol. I think she picked individuals over groups mostly because she liked to talk to the people she would eventually hurt. She wanted to learn about them and talked to them about just about anything...though they weren't exactly the most willing. Her problems don't necessarily lie in being unsociable or unfriendly. It's just that that friendliness comes with violence and bloodlust that's been hardwired into her brain."

"Yes, I believe that," Sheridan said. The doctor hadn't said anything she didn't know, although he had kept his dream meeting with Morai's predecessor a secret. "Though she's become less social because of that wiring and the fear that it'll make her do something that results in painful consequences. The problem is whether she actually has motivation outside of that to stop herself from being controlled by these urges. Even now, if she makes it through the night with no bad marks, it'll only be because she knows her future is on the line."

"She's struggling quite a bit, too," the doctor added. "She's barely holding control. She has a grip on the steering wheel, so to speak, but she could lose it at any moment and send the vehicle hurtling into a fiery, bloody crash."

"That's nice imagery for tonight," the warden said with a frown, peering into her teacup as if images of the impending disaster she feared had appeared in the reflections of her drink.

"Apologies."

"I don't know how else to help her besides providing a decent environment," Sheridan continued after taking another sip of tea. "I told her I would help her, but so far I've just locked her in a room. You've been working on another serum, but that's not an option for tonight...maybe...I should ask her to take the black serum, just in case."

"I can't imagine her saying yes."

"I could order it, I suppose. It would be a safety net, but it would also be obvious that it had been done. If the darkness of her veins and lifeless eyes don't give it away, her demeanor certainly will. They would think that we have to drug her to keep her in check."

The doctor gave Sheridan a look. That had been the case for the majority of her stay, and her improved behavior now could be attributed to the threat of just that.

The warden left to go find her prisoner, who was sitting alone in a room.

"Morai?" she called, slowly opening the door. Morai was sitting on the floor, silently watching her model train go around its small track. Her eyes seemed glazed over as it went around and around again. "...Morai?" Sheridan said again. The prisoner blinked a few times before looking up.

"Hello, Mrs. Sheridan," she said, a dead tone in her voice.

"You...haven't been shot, have you?" the warden asked, a concerned tone in hers.

"No," Morai sighed. "I'm alright." The truth was that sometimes Morai had to go off alone and let her mind shut down. Otherwise, the voice screaming at her to attack would become too loud. She had to make sure she could be alone and undisturbed for it to work, but Sheridan must've been the exception that the guards let through.

"Listen," Sheridan said, kneeling to sit beside her, picking up on Morai's reason for being there. "If this ball is happening too soon, I can cancel it. Just say the word. I'd rather have a successful visit from the International Police later than bloodshed today."

Morai eyed her. Was this a test of some kind? If she admitted how unbearable everything was becoming, what would happen? Was this the test? Would Sheridan decide here and now to throw her away and lock her in a box for the rest of her life? Blind her? Get rid of her altogether? Ever since her return to the prison, Morai had this growing distrust rooted deep within her mind. Though she had seemingly befriended Pollie, the scenario she blurted out earlier out of anger was a possibility in her mind.

The chip. I still think it's there. No, I know it is. What am I to them if just a threat to be eliminated? A former hero to reform so they still have someone to rely on? Do it, her mind whispered. It's just you and her. A quick bite and—

"No...No, I'll be fine," she whispered. "I'll be alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sheridan."

"...Alright, then. We still have about 8 hours to get ready. If you want to help us finish setting everything up, you can. Or do whatever you need."

Morai nodded and watched as the warden walked away.

Her back is turned. You could move before she has a chance to react. Shut up, already!

"I need to escape," she whispered to herself once she was alone again. "I have to get out of here. They'll send me away, They'll lock me up somewhere worse. They'll kill me!"

With a sense of urgency that had only previously come in the form of bloodlust, the prisoner jumped up and ran to the door. She slowed down and nodded casually to the guards as she reached the threshold. A cold sweat formed on her hands and brow as she began to make her way to the garden.

"Hey!" one of them called. Morai turned around slowly as if they had read her mind and found her intent to escape. "You know the rules."

"Oh..." she sighed. "Right." She walked back and held her hands out to be handcuffed. "I'm going to the garden," she quickly added. She was given a confused look followed by a shrug and a wave to go on.

They know where I am at all times. Of course they do.

Morai sat herself on the stone bench outside, hands squirming uncomfortably in her lap.

Run. Just run. You have a head start, but who knows what they have. You have to run as soon as you begin to stand or else you'll give them too much time to prepare. That's it. Position your feet to get a strong start. Lean forward a little. Relax your shoulders. Now g—

"Morai?" The prisoner was snapped out of her preparation, leaving her to gasp in surprise at Pollie standing in the doorway. "You alright? You seem...tense. Is it because of tonight?"

Even her, Morai thought. She has that gun by her side. If I were to run, friend or not, she'd have to stop me, and she would.

"I'm fine," she said.

"I heard Sheridan offered to push it back," Pollie added, going to sit beside Morai. She took out her handcuff key and unlocked the ones around the prisoner's wrists as she spoke. "At the end of the day, all you have to not do is be violent. You can do that. You don't have to prove that you'd die for whatever region needs you at the drop of a hat like you used to, because you're not who you used to be and they know it—or at least they should. You're someone else, someone else with different values and abilities. Someone created and influenced by...certain circumstances."

"You might be the first person to say that, Pollie." Morai sat with an almost confused look on her face. "I thought the goal was to completely reverse what's been done."

"You're Morai, and I don't think that will ever change," Pollie said, as if it had been some fact she knew all along. "If that's the end goal, it should be revised. You're not who you were. You have value as the person you are today. You can offer things that the old you couldn't, but the problem is that you use them to destroy, and that doesn't work in civilized society."

"But everyone has their part to play, don't they?" Morai argued. "Organizations like Team Rocket and Team Plasma are the reason for the International Police's continued existence. Otherwise, the scales would be constantly tipping from one side to the other. If these organizations ceased to exist, Interpol would decrease in size and power, allowing for the creation and rise of new organizations that therefore must be met with increasing police presence. One can't completely eradicate the other without dooming itself to the same fate. People will always have darkness in their hearts, and there will always be people there to stop them."

"...Then what role do you think you play, Morai?" Pollie asked. "I yelled at you on the beach in Alola for not having any goals or aspirations like you used to. Was I wrong, or do you believe that you only exist to wreak havoc and get your fill of blood?"

"...I don't know," the prisoner sighed. "I believe that I'm now hardwired for it. An intentional disturbance in the balance of my soul brought on by an outside force."

"But do you believe you can be more than what you were created for?"

"I...I don't know."

The warden appeared at the door, gesturing for Pollie to come inside. Just as Morai thought her chance to escape was about to reappear, Sheridan called her in, too, and directed her to the doctor's laboratory. She also called in guards to escort her there.

"Why?" she asked, distrust in her voice.

"You'll see. I'll be there shortly."

The warden led Pollie to a part of the prison Morai hadn't seen. It functioned as an armory, where the uniforms and weapons were kept.

"These are the new uniforms with the improvements you requested," Sheridan said. "We were in need of upgrades anyway. These have thicker material that is still as flexible and breathable, with a higher neck for obvious reasons."

"Bite proof?" Pollie asked. "What about claw proof?"

"I guess we'll find out," Sheridan answered. "There's protective plating on the chest, like before, but it's also been added to the shoulders and forearms. We were also given helmets and additional riot gear should the need arise, but hopefully we never have to take them out of this room. Moving onto weapons, we were provided with these. They were used in the Alolan ordeal and improved upon afterwards."

The warden held up a ball for Pollie to see before pressing a button and throwing it across the room. Pollie watched with widened eyes as the ball split into three parts connected by cords, twisting and turning as they landed with loud clangs against the metal door, retracting back into one ball.

"This is a better way to take someone down from afar," Sheridan explained.

"By someone you mean Morai," Pollie sighed.

"Primarily, yes. We also have these," the warden said, pulling out electric batons from the box.

"Like Team Rocket?"

"Yes, but we're not Team Rocket."

"When I brought up these ideas, I was pretty mad and set on revenge," Pollie admitted with a frown. "Now they just seem...cruel."

"I agree, but you never know, I suppose. I think these are better than getting shot over and over again," Sheridan replied, tucking a baton into her belt. "Speaking of, I have some work to do before tonight. There are uniforms for events like these, but you can choose between that and regular formal attire."

"What's going on?" Morai asked, anger and frustration seeping into her voice. She had been taken to another empty room and sat at a table. The doctor stood silently across from her with a frown, leaning against the wall and resting his hands on his cane.

"Nothing to worry about," the man replied in his Galarian accent, tapping his cane on the ground.

"You're lying," Morai growled, standing up as far as the bar keeping her handcuffs to the table would let her. "You're lying!"

"It's just a test," he calmly replied. That, at least, was true, but it didn't make Morai feel any better. She looked at him a moment before frantically trying to get out of her handcuffs.

"Morai," the doctor said, "it's not that—"

"Hello, I hope I didn't—oh, calm down, Morai," Sheridan said as she arrived at the scene. "It's not that bad."

An Aether Foundation employee entered behind the warden, only adding to the confusion. He sat across from Morai, giving her a smile that seemed uncharacteristic of the situation.

"Will someone just explain what's happening?" Morai said out of desperation.

"No need," Sheridan said. "It's about to explain itself. Go ahead, Joseph."

Joseph, who was evidently the young man sitting across from Morai, took a small scalpel from one of the many pockets on his uniform and put a small cut on his arm. As it began to bleed, Morai looked at the other two trainers in disgust and confusion.

"What are you trying to do here?" she asked. She sharply inhaled as the smell of blood, which had gotten to be many times stronger over the past few weeks, stung her nostrils. Her mouth began to water, her eyes keeping their deadly red color. The prisoner violently shook her head to try and disrupt her body from its involuntary reactions.

"This isn't fair!" she yelled, sweat forming on her brow. "You've set me up for this!"

"You're not in trouble," Sheridan calmly explained. "But you've been hiding your struggles...and not very well. Your natural reactions are exactly the same as they were weeks ago. I was hoping that distancing yourself and abstaining from tasting it would lessen its desirability over time, but that's not the case. It's something to consider moving forward, is all."

"How timely," Morai spat, shooting up from her chair. "Right as the International Police board is coming to determine my fate, you do this. Trying to get rid of me, hm? Have you finally had enough? Have you finally decided I can't be rehabilitated?"

"No, Morai, that's not it at all," Sherian said. "Tests like these are important in gaging progress. You've still come a long way."

"Just let me leave before I do something that lands me in solitary confinement," Morai said. Guards were called and she was escorted out, pushing them away as soon as they got into the hallway.

The warden looked at her phone.

"According to this," she said. "Nothing has changed compared to any previous attack."

"It just goes to show that it hasn't gotten easier, yet she's still putting in the effort not to give in," the doctor said.

I have to get out of here. Where will I go? What if I'm caught again? I've never considered the future this much. I don't like it.

Morai went to the same place she had gone to for the past few weeks whenever her emotions turned into a need for violence. She had a buildup of energy that she wanted to use to tear someone apart, but it was better to tear the heavy bag in the training room Sheridan had given to her up instead. This was her sixth one. She could destroy one in a matter of minutes, and lately she had paced herself to get at least one more use out of each bag before the warden stopped replacing them altogether. She punched, kicked, elbowed, clawed, and even bit through the one hundred and fifty pounds of leather and cloth until she found herself standing breathlessly in front of the carnage. It wasn't enough. She always wanted more.

"Morai?" The voice belonged to Yvette, who had come creeping in through the door.

"If this is about another lesson, now isn't a good time," Morai sighed.

"I see that," Yvette said, drawing closer. Morai looked at her with confusion. "But I was thinking. Our trade of services hasn't been fair."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Morai said with a wave of her hand. "I'm making up for attacking you the first time we met. Nothing will ever make that right I suppose, so you can have all the martial arts knowledge you want from me. It's given me something to do while stuck in this place."

"Sure, sure, but still," Yvette said, putting an arm around the prisoner and causing her to stoop forward to match her height. "I still feel like I owe you something...like blood, maybe?"

Morai finally pushed Yvette away, creating as much distance between them as she could.

"Are you insane?" she yelled, going for the door.

"It's alright this time. I'm a willing participant!" Yvette answered, scrambling to block it.

"No! Now get out of the way," Morai growled.

"Morai, I'm telling you that it's okay! Bite me! Take it! Don't you want—"

The prisoner picked Yvette up and moved her from the door.

"Of course I do, but I obviously can't!" she growled. "I swear, the entire Sheridan family is trying to kill me one way or the other!"

With a slam of the door, Morai rushed back to her room.

"I can't take this," she whispered as she paced around, running her fingers through the hair on top of her head. "It's too much. I've become a coward, afraid to do what I want to do most. I need it. I can't go without it."

After adding several new claw marks to the previous ones that had been covered and making a mess of her room, Morai bit hard into her own forearm. She tasted the blood as it ran down her arm and onto the floor, but it wasn't good enough. It wasn't ever enough. She bit harder, more out frustration than anything, as actual tears began to well up in her eyes. It had been a long time since this Morai shed tears.

Pollie opened the door, causing light to spill into the otherwise dark room.

"Morai?" she said with concern in her voice.

"Get out!" the prisoner yelled. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness, and from the blood highlighted on the floor it was clear that leaving wasn't an option. It wasn't a good one, anyway.

"Just let me help you," Pollie said softly.

"What are you going to do, shoot me? Go ahead!"

The guard actually put her weapon outside instead before closing the door.

"It's alright," she said, slowly inching closer.

"I'd back off unless you want to get hurt."

"You're not going to hurt me," she replied. "You could've earlier and you didn't."

In pure hand to hand combat, Morai had an advantage of size, skill, and natural weapons like teeth and claws. Pollie had put her best chance at winning should a fight start outside.

"Let me fix your arm, alright?" she said, continuing to get closer. "That's all. It's going to hurt in a bit once the adrenaline dies down. I know from experience. For the first time in a long time we've actually got places to be and things to do. Are you going to let them see you like this?"

"...No," Morai sighed. Pollie gently took hold of her wrist, observing the wound.

"This one's going to need a couple of stitches. Come with me to the medical wing and I'll fix you up."

"You?" the prisoner asked. Pollie nodded.

I don't trust you with anyone else.

"So what set you off?" the guard asked as Morai took a seat.

"Nothing in particular," she answered.

"I don't have psychic powers, but I know that's a lie. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I'm sure it's hard."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Morai asked.

"Because you've been nice to me. These past few weeks, anyway. We've shared some special times. You tried to kill me, I tried to kill you, and you bit me. Twice," Pollie answered.

"Sorry."

"See, you wouldn't have apologized before. I've got to clean this and numb it. It's going to sting at first, but otherwise it'll just feel weird."

"You can do it without if it saves time," Morai said.

"Don't try to be so tough," Pollie joked. "Sometimes I think you like to see how much pain you can tolerate before your body just gives out."

The two went quiet as the nurse-turned-guard-turned-nurse stitched and bandaged Morai's wound.

"There," she said. "You might want to wear those hand wraps, just long enough for the ball. You've got an hour to rest here and an hour to get ready. I'll get your clothes. Will you be alright?"

"Yes. Thank you," Morai said. She seemed forlorn, which made Pollie feel worse for what she was about to do. She took the handcuffs from her belt and cuffed Morai's uninjured wrist to the bed rail. Surprisingly, the prisoner let her.

"I'm sorry," the guard said. "It would just be terrible if something happened this late, so soon before the party starts. I want you to get through this."

"I understand," Morai said. She lied back as Pollie dimmed the lights and left.

"What have I become?" she whispered to herself. "So soft. Weak. I'm getting weak. Maybe I already am weak."