"Like everyone else, including their real life counterparts, these old friends of yours still don't want to believe it's really you," Shadow Morai said with a smirk, swirling the blood around in the wine glass she was holding. "And like always, you can either give them hope or crush their image of the old you until nothing but terror and grief remains. I, of course, prefer the latter."

"But you don't have to!" Light Morai said. "They're your friends, and while they're scared right now, they'd still be willing to hear you out and understand—"

"Oh, why should they?" Shadow Morai interjected, swinging her fist down and back against the wall like a hammer. "Look at you, and look at me! Sharp teeth for biting and drawing blood. Claws meant for slicing through whatever's in our way. A tall and strong frame and the skills that make it dangerous. And we can't forget our psychic power. Don't deny what you chose and what you developed yourself to do!"

Morai seemed to agree, but Light Morai shook her head vehemently.

"What are you looking at?" Zossie asked. Morai ignored her.

"Just because you have those things doesn't mean you have to use them for destruction!" Light Morai insisted. "You can use them to protect what you care about, not tear it all down!"

Morai rubbed her temples and held her head in between her forearms.

"I'm tired," she whispered. "Just get me out of this dilemma. I won't be trapped here the entire time the serum is running through my veins, will I?"

"You're Morai," Shadow Morai said. "Prove it. Solidify the old you's place six feet under and do what you were made for."

"You're not the only Morai to exist," Light Morai said. Her and her opposite's yelling had calmed to simple talking, but it was just as disorienting. "Think of Past Morai, who fights valiantly against your nightmares. Think about Maria, who has shown nothing but kindness to you, kindness that is turning into—"

"Don't bring her into this!" Morai growled. She looked around. Despite apparently having feasted on someone's blood before, her claws twitched and her tongue felt dry. She was under stress, and it was causing what had become a natural instinct to flare. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her body, adrenaline flowing through her bloodstream.

"It's all a dream, anyway. I'm taking things too seriously," she sighed, adjusting her tie. It had been a while since she'd worn one. "Who should I pick? So many old friends...if anyone eats well and has good blood, it's the chef."

Morai turned and lunged toward Mallow, but the trainer's Tsareena stepped in between the two of them. She flippantly took control of it and made it move aside, still knocking Mallow to the ground and ending up on top of her. She bared her teeth and prepared to bite, but she paused, looking at the terror in Mallow's eyes. Mallow was once her friend, after all.

Is this...what I'm meant to be? A person who's lost so much of their humanity that they can barely be called human? Walking the streets alone, searching for people to toy with and feast on? I've been given much power, but at what cost? Is it truly worth it...to live as a beast more-so than a human...to be without love and warmth, to die alone and gorged on power that I won't have in the ground. Who would attend my funeral? Many people would attend Past Morai's funeral.

The Mask Maker got so lost in thought that when she snapped back to the present moment, she found herself on the ground with a knee digging into her back, pushing her into the cold tile. She craned her head to look at her captor. It was, to her surprise, Nanu.

"I'm too old for this," he sighed. "But at least you made it easy. If only Persians had opposable thumbs. Then all I'd have to do is watch as it tackled and handcuffed you."

"When did you get here?" Morai groggily asked as handcuffs were placed around her wrists. Knowing she was in some sort of hallucinatory dream, she didn't really care what happened. She was actually glad that her ability to make decisions had been taken away from her. Nanu's Alolan Persian sat above her head, smiling down at her with its fat face.

"I've been here the entire time," he yawned. "I was hoping to enjoy my breakfast before someone covered in blood yelled 'I did it!'. Then you went and tackled a Trial Captain. Which leads me to my first question. What are you under the influence of?"

"Me?" Morai stammered. "N-nothing! I don't do drugs! What kind of person do you think I am?"

Nanu sighed, and Morai realized that her appearance didn't exactly lend to someone completely sober and sane. Everyone else had seemingly left the building, making everything almost eerily quiet. Even Light and Shadow Morai were gone.

"Well, if you're going to make this difficult, I'm at least going to eat my breakfast."

Nanu got up and motioned for his Pokémon to take his place. He turned a chair around and took his plate of pancakes in his hands.

"The places on your neck and arm tell a different story, and so do your pinpoint pupils, but you're talking coherently," he continued. "It's probably something I've never heard of, then. I'll leave figuring that out to the actual police force."

I guess The Mask Maker doesn't exist in this dream.

"I don't do drugs," Morai insisted.

"What is it, then?" Nanu asked.

"It's...it's...well..."

"Is it a chemical substance that temporarily alters your brain and body?" he continued.

"Well, yes, but—"

"Does it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?"

"Maybe, but only after—"

"Do you keep using it to keep those feelings and changes ongoing without it being medically necessary?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then it's a drug, kid, and you're probably addicted to it," Nanu said matter-of-factly, cutting through the stack of pancakes with his fork and taking a bite.

"I needed it, alright?" Morai growled. "I'd be completely different without it. It set me free from the chains of duality that held me down for so long!"

"Did it make you look like that?" Nanu asked, concluding that, the way she was talking, she was indeed on something.

"Like what? I'm not enjoying all of these attacks on my person."

"Aw, I'm sorry," the Kahuna replied sarcastically, mouth full of pancakes, "I should be nicer to attempted murderers."

"Attempted—No, I didn't attempt to murder anyone," Morai said with a frown. "There's no fun in that."

"Right," Nanu simply replied. "Well, I can name at least three storybooks you could easily be the villain of. You've got unnaturally sharp teeth, claws, and red eyes, and from what it looked like you were about to take a chunk out of someone's neck. Whatever you're on must have messed you up good."

Morai sighed, silently agreeing. She assumed she was on the red serum in this dream. Despite being handcuffed and having a seventy pound cat on top of her, she didn't mind the dream anymore. Being in a pancake house in Alola beat looking at the same stone walls she'd seen every day for months, or what she assumed to be months.

"I...like it that way," she admitted. "I'm aware of the price I'm paying."

"You got any friends?" Nanu asked.

"Not anymore," Morai replied. "Well, I suppose I have one. More of an acquaintance, really."

"Heh, how'd you convince 'em to hang around?"

"I didn't. She stayed despite my...habits."

"Why do you think that is?" the jaded officer asked, scraping the mix of fruit and syrup from his plate.

"I...don't know. That's what baffles me," Morai said earnestly, opening up more than usual. "She'd be better off getting as far away from me as possible, and I told her that, but she stays! She's so patient and kind, and somehow my darkness doesn't completely overwhelm her light. But caring for someone like me is impossible, and I'm not capable of caring for anyone else anymore, so she really should leave. Not only that, but I've had to fight the urge to drink her blood ever since I saw her. She knows that, which is why she wears a scarf around her neck all the time, but...she just won't leave."

"Sounds like love," Nanu concluded. Morai took control of the Persian sitting on top of her, made it move, and jumped to her feet.

"Love?!" she said.

"What did you just do?" Nanu asked, setting his plate aside and standing up.

"How...could you say that?" she said, raising her voice. "L-love? Of course not! It just wouldn't work!"

"It has a crazy way of working," the man replied.

"I don't love!" Morai growled. "I maim and drink the blood of just about anything that breathes. I terrorize people beyond repair. I literally take control of people's minds and—"

"Ah, the police have arrived! Now I can go home and go to sleep," Nanu said.

"Wait, I'm not done talking to you!" Morai insisted. She felt hands her shoulders and turned around, teeth bared and eyes wide.

"Morai, are you alright?" the doctor said. Suddenly, Morai awoke to the real world around her. The doctor was standing in front of her, holding her shoulders. "Tell me what happened!"

"It didn't work," Morai said. "Whatever you were trying to accomplish, it didn't work! Destroy that serum! Burn it! Never make it again!"

The prisoner ripped herself from the doctor's grasp and went through the exit leading right into the hallway. She felt woozy and everything seemed blurry and strange. In her trying to find her room before running into any guards, she ran into Maria—literally. They both ended up on the floor, and Morai quickly moved away from Maria.

"There you are!" Maria said with a smile. "You look flushed. Are you alright?"

She reached for Morai's neck to check her pulse, but Morai pushed her hand away.

"I'm fine," she said. "What time is it?"

"It's pretty late," Maria replied. "9 p.m. Not much longer and you'll be headed to Alola."

"Right," Morai sighed.

I haven't thought this escape plan through, but if I can fake not having psychic power for long enough, it should be easy once I find an opportune moment. Then I'll be gone, and so will Maria. Gone from each other's sight forever, as it should be.

"Would you...care for one more dance lesson?" Maria asked, posting up on an elbow. "Before you leave, of course. There can be many more when you come back. Maybe I can get the guard to give us a little privacy again so you don't have to worry about messing up your tough image," she laughed, giving Morai a light punch on the arm.

Morai didn't answer right away. She was lying on her back and looking up at the high ceiling.

It will be our last.

"Yeah," she finally said. "But I'm a little tired, so cut me some slack when I make a mistake, alright?"

Maria did manage to convince the guard to step outside the door. Their music was playing on a CD player this time, leaving her and Morai truly alone. Morai hesitantly took her partner's hand in hers again and they began with the box step they had practiced last time. Their simple steps eventually evolved, with Maria taking the lead. The music was slow and warm like the summer night. Morai had to admit that she was enjoying herself. She was seemingly able to let her guard down for a short time, focusing on not stepping on her partner's toes. She forgot about her sharp teeth and claws and her taste for blood. She forgot how monstrous she seemed to everyone around her, and rightfully so. She forgot about her psychic powers, though her eyes did glow a faint red as she danced. She hadn't treated someone with such gentleness but once since she had first taken the serum.

"Now try to spin me," Maria said with a smile. She took the lead, letting Morai figure it out. Once she ended up with Morai's arm wrapped around her back, she "tripped," leaving the prisoner to catch her as she giggled.

Their faces became inches away from each other, Morai looking directly into her dance partner's eyes. She could feel Maria's fast pulse as she held her hand, and Maria could see Morai's blushing face. Maria moved her face in just a little closer, and Morai lingered there for a moment. Maria reached a hand up and softly brushed Morai's scarred neck, reaching up to her face.

This warmth...this connection...Is this...?

Morai let Maria up, letting go of her hand and taking a seat on the sofa behind them. She shook her head with a frown.

"I'm sorry, Morai," Maria said, holding her now empty hand over her chest. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"It's alright. But Maria...I don't think I can...I don't think I'm capable...of love," Morai answered with a sigh. "Not the love you need and deserve."

"I understand," Maria said. She went to sit by Morai, and the pair sat in silence for a while.

"Those rose starters you gave me are still sitting in the halls. We should plant them before it's too late."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right..."

Morai sat crouched on the stone tile and watched as Maria finished pushing dirt into the hole they had dug for the small bush, patting it down around the black roses.

I'm sorry, Maria, she thought. It's for the best.

Sheridan appeared above them, her arms folded behind her back and a serious expression written across her face.

"Might we have a moment of privacy, Maria?"

Maria nodded and looked to Morai before taking her leave. She had a solemn look on her face.

"Did something happen between the two of you?" Sheridan asked.

"No...not really," Morai replied with a frown. "I'm guessing you're here for reason."

"I come with a reminder you won't want to hear," the chief sighed. "The serum will be administered tomorrow morning. If all goes well, you won't feel its effects too much other than an absence of your psychic power. I just wanted you to be prepared."

"Ah, I see. I had almost forgotten. Thank you, Mrs. Sheridan."

Once Sheridan had left, Morai sat alone among the two places where Light and Shadow Morai were captured in stone in the Dream Realm.

"I do wish you'd return," she said. "I saw you for only a moment in a false dream, but it was nice to see you nonetheless."

Morai was in the dining hall eating leftover pancakes the next morning when Sheridan appeared again. Even though she wasn't the one taking the serum, she had a solemn face. The seat across from Morai was empty and she hadn't seen Maria since their exchange the night prior. Sheridan sat down in her place as her prisoner finished her oatmeal. Morai's bites grew considerably slower.

"You can't delay it forever," the chief said. "You might as well get it over with."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

Sheridan led Morai to the doctor's lab, but the doctor was nowhere to be found.

"I guess I'm not the only one delaying," Morai said.

"You are," Sheridan replied. "I'm the one administering it."

Morai regarded the woman with furrowed eyebrows.

"Rest assured I have sufficient practice and expertise. I wouldn't be standing here if I didn't. Now, sit down."

Sheridan began to explain the process to Morai as she strapped her arms to the chair, a practice Morai had grown to hate.

"This has been redesigned to keep you conscious and alert, for the most part at least. Nulling your psychic powers will tax your brain, but it shouldn't give you more than a slight headache after the initial injection. I'm restraining your arms because no promises were made as to how painful it would be when first administered, and that scar on your neck is a testament to what can happen if precautions aren't taken. Team Rocket neglected your safety. You can at least give the International Police some credit."

She pulled back the plunger of the syringe, filling it with black liquid that had no seductive luster. Instead, it was nearly opaque and looked like death.

It's fake, it's fake, it's fake, remember?

Despite the serum being fake, there was no guarantee that it would truly have no effect. There wasn't even a guarantee that it really was fake. Something could have happened in the time Morai left the lab the day before and returned. Her heart began to beat faster, and sweat formed on her brow. She didn't have to fake this nervousness.

"How long is it supposed to last?" Morai asked.

"Eighteen hours," Sheridan answered. "Are you having doubts? Would you like time to reconsider?"

"No, I'm going to Alola," Morai insisted. "Do what you must."

The chief began to prepare Morai's arm, but she stopped.

"There's already a place here," she said with a frown. "It looks recent."

"Colress needed more blood to test it again," Morai answered quickly, growing tense.

"Ah, that's right. I forgot. You'll need to relax your arm. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Morai sighed. She tried not to look at the needle going into her arm.

Now it's time to see how much of a show I can put on.

Feeling nothing but a coldness in her arm, Morai began to grit her teeth and shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her eyes grew wider, and she let out groans and growls as she dug her nails into the leather material of the chair. She acted as if she was trying to contain her agony but was failing to keep it inside. Her breaths grew deeper, her mouth hanging open. Her winces grew louder until, for the finale of her performance, she let out a full-blown cry of pain that anyone outside the room was sure to hear. Sheridan put a hand on the prisoner's shoulder as she tilted her head back to rest on the chair. For added effect, she looked up at the chief as red intermittently glowed throughout her eyes, growing fainter and fainter until it faded away into the stormy color of her normal eyes, unable to come back. Morai closed her eyes, acting as if she was trying to catch her breathe and steady herself.

"That should be the worst of it," Sheridan said, patting her on the shoulder. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright," Morai whispered. "Just give me a moment."

Sheridan undid the straps on the armrests and helped Morai over to a couch, where she somewhat dramatically collapsed.

"Please give me a moment," she said with a defeated, breathless tone. The woman nodded and left her alone. Morai's utterly forlorn frown turned into a smile, then a stifled laugh. She raised her hand up to look at it, black faintly flowing through its veins. Just to be sure, she flared her psychic power, the red returning to her eyes. The door opened, and she quickly resumed her weakened position.

"Wow, you put on quite the performance," the doctor quietly said with a smile. "I heard that cry of agony from across the building. You don't feel a thing?"

"Of course I do!" Morai joked. "What are you on about? I'm miserable!"

The two chuckled together until Sheridan returned, causing them to immediately assume solemn-looking expressions.

"I was alarmed when I heard that yell, but I suppose it was expected," the doctor told the chief, who nodded in agreement. She turned to Morai and held out a stack of clothes.

"It's not very Champion-like to appear in prison clothes," she said. "These are the clothes you were arrested in, washed and pressed. It took a lot of effort to get all of the blood out, but it was done. You do, of course, still have the option to wear something less...menacing."

"No, this is perfect," Morai said with a nostalgic smile as she held her old suit. "So many good times were had, though they were spread across a few identical pairs. I never stooped so low as to wear the same suit every day."

"And these," Sheridan continued, setting Morai's boots down by the couch "ought to be worn with responsibility. With those metal rims they could almost be considered a weapon. I'm guessing Team Rocket made them."

Morai nodded. After Sheridan left, the doctor leaned in with a more serious expression.

"You need to be careful about your eyes," he said in a low voice. "They tend to glow red when there's a peak of emotion, but that shouldn't happen under the serum. Try to keep your emotions at a neutral base level."

"Ah, I hadn't thought of that!" Morai exclaimed, her eyes flashing involuntarily for a moment to unintentionally prove his point.

"If you can't get it under control, you risk dooming yourself before you even leave for Alola."

After lounging on the couch for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time to wallow in her pitiful lack of power, Morai went to get properly dressed. The trainer regarded herself with a smile as she buttoned the eye-shaped buttons on her black vest and tied the laces of her black boots lined with metal, the outline of sharp teeth on the front and sides of each one. Lastly, she clipped her mask to its proper place on her side, hanging from a black loop of leather material attached to her belt. As the trainer went to tie her tie, she held the two ends and looked at them in the mirror blankly for a moment. She tried to tie them correctly, but realized that she had forgotten how.

I did it nearly every day for a few months, but that was months ago...this is a little embarrassing.

After trying and failing a few more times, The Mask Maker admitted defeat, letting her untied necktie hang loosely around her neck for a moment before tucking it away in her vest. She walked out the door of her room—a fancy prison cell, really—to find Pollie in the hall, who turned and jumped when she came face to face with her. Morai put her hands up.

"Don't shoot me for this one, please," she said with a growing grin, "I have no idea what I did."

"You just...appear!" Pollie said in exasperation, putting a finger to her face. "And don't act like you don't sneak up on people and scare them for fun! I heard about what happened with Sheridan."

"You got me there," Morai shrugged, "but this time it's a genuine misunderstanding. I apologize."

"You...you what?" Pollie asked.

"I can sense and gauge fear," Morai answered, "and I scared you to death unintentionally. I'm sorry."

"You...didn't scare me to death," Pollie said, looking away with a frown. She walked off without another word, surprised by Morai's seemingly sincere apology. To her, Morai was never supposed to be anything more than a monster, and she had been preparing to pay her back for what she'd done the day they met. Within an hour of Morai coming face to face with the nurse, she had made her the first victim of her prison stay. Pollie still had two marks on her neck that hadn't completely faded, and there was no promise that they would ever go away completely. It was permanent damage, all for a taste of blood.

Back in the hallway, Morai questioned where to go as she was handcuffed by a guard. She seemingly had some time to kill before leaving for Alola, but her battle practice had been cut short the day prior and most of her potential opponents had left. Maria was nowhere to be found, leaving her to wonder if she should've said a proper farewell.

Something snapped her out of her wondering. It made her salivate yet made her throat dry, and she had to close her eyes to hide her momentary red eyes. Oddly enough, she smelled blood as one of the Aether employees passed her by, but the employee in question wasn't obviously bleeding. She stalked up to the trainer, putting her face right beside his head.

"Pardon the intrusion," she said, which scared the employee, who hadn't noticed her up until then, "but are you wearing cologne?"

"Uh, y-yeah," he answered, frozen in place. "Why?"

"I can't help but notice that it smells like...well, blood, and you know me," she said, licking her teeth. "I noticed it from several feet away. It seems in bad taste to wear something so...enticing."

"Oh, I-I didn't mean to—"

"Morai!" Sheridan called from down the hall, her hands clearly on her hips as she hurried up to the group. "What the hell are you on about?"

"When people are walking around smelling like blood, Mrs. Sheridan, I simply can't focus," Morai said with a frown, a hint of drama in her voice. She closed her eyes for added effect, trying to hide the red glow they were beginning to take on.

"What?" Sheridan asked, dumbfounded. "No one smells like—oh, wait a second. I think I do smell some metallic notes. Do you have the bottle?"

The young man rifled through one of the many pouches on his white and gold uniform until he found a small bottle. Sheridan examined it and nodded, a hint of surprise on her face.

"Morai's actually right. Certain scents can have metallic notes—copper, specifically. I assume you've developed a taste and smell for it, so it's stronger to you, Morai. As for you, Dylan, I'd suggest taking a shower and saving this for after your time here. We wouldn't want to encourage any...incidents..."

"How much for the bottle?" Morai asked. "In here I have...well, nothing, but being a successful Pokémon trainer, I'm pretty wealthy on the out—"

"Yeah, that's definitely not happening," Sheridan interjected. "Frankly put, I could see you drinking the bottle out of desperation."

"I'd give half a year's pay to see that," Arthur said, appearing from another hall.

"Morai, I'd like to speak with you a moment," Sheridan said, excusing them both as they moved away from the others.

"I'll give you any amount of cash for that," Arthur whispered to the employee behind his hand with a smile, looking to his unknowing wife.

"Morai," Sheridan said. "Open your mouth."

"I beg your pardon?" Morai asked.

"You heard me."

"Well at least buy me dinner fir—hey!"

Sheridan rammed her fingers in between Morai's teeth until she opened her mouth.

"That's what I thought," she said after peering inside.

"Care to enlighten me after violating my space?" Morai said, unaware of the hypocrisy she was showing.

"At first I thought your taste for blood was like your addiction to the serum. I knew it wasn't a simple fix...but I thought that perhaps forcing you to lay off it would make it go away on its own. Looking at you now, your body has adapted so that it can better smell and taste what you're after and gives you every reason to go for it. I know you said this before, but I simply ignored it and hoped it would go away. That was the wrong approach...I'm sorry, Morai. I'll do better when we get back."

"Oh," Morai said, awkwardly scratching her neck with her handcuffed hands. "Well, since you're so remorseful, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you give me a taste of—"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to just hand it to you," Sheridan added. I've got plenty of time to speak with the doctor and formulate a proper plan on our way to and from Alola."

Morai's shoulders slumped.

"You may try," she sighed, "but I'm afraid you just can't get rid of my nature. I'm not willing to give it up, either."

Sheridan cocked her head.

"Didn't you have a tie?" she asked.

"Well, I did...but..."

"You forgot how to tie it?"

"N-No!" Morai insisted, a small grin forming across Sheridan's face. The chief spotted it folded up in one of her vest pockets and grabbed it before Morai could protest, flipping her collar up and tying the tie properly around her neck as her prisoner looked away in embarrassment.

"I guess that poison eats away at your memory, huh?" Arthur mocked from across the hall. "Until the most basic of things becomes lost. All because—"

"I can make your head spin so much you forget your own name," Morai growled.

"Oh yeah? I—"

"Hey!" Sheridan called, stopping them both. "I've got one prisoner to deal with, and she's bad enough. I don't need you egging her on."

Arthur groaned and looked away.

"Well, I originally came with news, anyway," he said. "Everything is ready for departure."