Updated 28/02/2023

Excerpt from The Goldenrod Post.

Date: May 11th, 2012

After years of searching with no leads present, the Goldenrod police department has declared Matthew Alexander dead. This was the final loss of the three teenagers who had been allegedly abducted on December 6th, 2005. The previous two, Madison White and Clyde Drawlin were found dead two weeks later in their own beds.

The chief of police stated in an interview, "This was, by no means, an easy decision. We understand the wishes of the parents of these teenagers, who are looking for who could have done this to them." The chief went on to say, "It is so hard to look someone in the eye who had just suffered a great loss and say, 'I don't know how this happened.' Because the three teens had disappeared without a trace."

Date: January 19th, 2019

Location: Goldenrod City, Johto Region

Jeremy Orade thought he knew a lot of things.

He knew everything that happened in the Silverline motel for one thing. It was his duty as an owner to be aware. And during his tenure at the motel, he had come to know many more things. One of which was that winter was the slow season. With the snow falling down outside, everyone was either staying home or vacationing in Alola and certainly wouldn't want to stay in a motel, especially one as notorious and run down as the Silverline.

That was another thing he knew; He knew what kind of status the Silverline had. He knew it was always the place to go for a drug trade or a good time with a prostitute. It was always contained in the same rooms: Room two for drugs and room four for sex. He still needed actual customers after all. Not that he minded mules and harlots in his rooms. Business was business and the flow of money was reasonable. Granted, he didn't expect much from the worst part of Goldenrod City, but he supposed that anything was better than nothing.

Yes, he knew many things. And he felt very comfortable about that.

He, however, didn't know who had just walked into his motel.

He was taller than Jeremy, which was not a hard feat, and had a grey parka that likely fetched a high price. He wore a light blue toque that completely obscured his hair, if he had any at all that was. Though, upon the guy approaching Jeremy's desk, he could see his face was that of someone young, perhaps twenty years or less. Oh well, he wasn't about to judge someone young about whether or not they had hair. All he wanted was to get the guy out of the way so the day would go by faster.

"Whaddya need, kid?" Jeremy asked, coughing out some of the musty lobby air in exchange for the crisp, fresh variety.

"A room if you've got one. Just one night, please," the guy replied, looking behind himself for a moment before turning back to Jeremy.

"Sure, but it's a bit of a weird time to ask for one, don't ya think?" Jeremy peered over to the clock that had its hands at one minute to noon.

The guy shrugged, "It's a weird world."

Jeremy decided to take the answer for what it was worth and opened up his laptop to input the name. He couldn't quite shake it, but had he seen this guy before? Something about his face maybe? He wasn't sure, but the familiarity was there. "Your name, please?"

The guy opened his mouth and then closed it, then once again with a response. "Jacob… Jacob Reynolds."

Jeremy eyed him dubiously but put it in anyway. As long as the guy had cash, he could call himself Johnny Fuckshit and get away with it. "...Alright then Mr. Reynolds, you did come unreserved so you'll have to pay seven hundred pokedollars for the one night."

'Jacob' shoved his hand into a jacket pocket and pulled out crumpled bills of all values and, seemingly at random, plucked a few of the chosen bills and put them on his desk. It didn't even look like the guy counted them.

Before Jeremy even touched the bills he knew they were the right amount. Counting them just solidified his theory. "Perfect amount. You got a skill for that kinda thing?" he asked, stuffing the bills into his sweatpants pocket.

"Something like that," he said, scratching at his toque. "So do I have a room yet?"

"You do indeed, room four," he smiled, and then added wickedly, "The mattress sometimes sags a bit so just go easy on it, alright?" He grabbed the key from the drawer by his side and held it out to 'Jacob' who reached out to take it but recoiled.

"Could I have another room?" he said to Jeremy's surprise.

"What's wrong with that one?" Jeremy replied, raising an eyebrow. Did he know about what happens in there? And again with the familiarity coming from him. This was too weird.

"It's the slow season, right?"

"Yeah, your point being...?" How did this guy know?

"I think I can take some liberty over my room selection," said 'Jacob' in an almost patronizing sense.

Jeremy knew there was something more. But it was scary how he couldn't figure it out. It was easy to know when someone was at the motel for more reasons than just to sleep, a few hundred extra pokedollars or something similar. This guy, 'Jacob', walked in and he had the nerve to patronize him, a man that easily had ten years more than him. He counted bills without looking, knew about room four, knew about the slow season, and looked so familiar Jeremy felt like a connection should have been made by now, but no dice. It was weird and he wanted nothing more to do with it. "Well then… which room do you want?"

'Jacob' went into thought and then answered, "Room six, if it's open."

Jeremy could see it in his eyes, he already knew that room six was open. But that didn't matter anymore. He needed to get the guy out of his head as soon as possible. His hand returned the key to its rightful spot and swapped it for a key two digits ahead of it. He held out the brass key and the strap that weaved through the top hole. "Here, it's yours," he said, not making eye contact. Just take the fucking key, kid. I don't need any torture for my brain today, he thought.

The key left his grasp and he heard one final message from the kid. It would be the one that would most likely haunt him for the next few days. "Thanks, Jeremy."

Jeremy never wore a name tag. And the more he thought about it, the more his breathing hitched. After 'Jacob' left, he put his head in his hands and gave it a shake. What was happening? Who did he just let into his motel?

Stop. Stop, Jeremy, he thought. Just forget about it. Whoever that guy was, he's just gonna stay one night and be done with it. That's it.

Jeremy would only wish for that to be true.

He opened the door and was met with the same aged scent that appeared in the lobby. Room six was fairly neat, at least compared to the others. Two queen beds with a desk opposite to them. A mirror was hung by the entrance to the bathroom and gave him the reflection of his perturbed expression. No television but that was fine. He wasn't planning on staying for long.

He had taken many risks coming into the motel. Necessary risks, but risks nonetheless. He had been able to look into Jeremy's mind and find the ideal room for his task. Room six was the furthest away from the lobby and was well hidden from the street that the Silverline was adjacent to.

There was only one mistake he made, and that was saying Jeremy's name. He had been caught up in the moment and didn't realize it until the word left his mouth. It had just been a small detail he had caught when he looked into Jeremy's mind, along with the fact that Jeremy intended to place him in a room where people had sex often. At that, he almost didn't mind he gave Jeremy a little scare.

He almost didn't. It was still a mistake, and he needed to be more careful.

He stepped in, dragging in snow that quickly melted from the radiator nearby. His hands, which had made themselves at home in his pockets, were brought out and closed the door behind him. Time to get to work, he thought.

He took off his toque. His hair was a stark white, matching the snow outside. It stuck out in spikes and had a poofy appearance. He imagined it looked okay, though he wouldn't dare ask for someone's opinion on it. He couldn't have anyone see it, not when they were looking for him.

Unless he needed someone to see it.

The backpack was carefully set down on the queen bed nearest to him. From there he cleared the desk of all the papers and contact information. He went back over to the bag and pulled out the first piece of equipment: A video camera. It was small and outdated, but it worked. He set it on the desk and turned it on. A little red light appeared and he got into position; sitting atop the queen bed with the camera faced toward him.

He got up to his feet and stopped the recording. His fingers played with the buttons on the side until he got to his video. Sure enough, he was seated on the bed and was perfectly centered. This was good, he only got one take at this and if he blew it… Well, it wouldn't turn out positive for anyone.

A new recording was started and he made his way over to the bed. He sat down and began speaking.

"My name is Matthew Elgin Alexander and… I guess I'm supposed to be dead. At least, that's what everybody has been thinking for the past six years." He stopped and sighed, "Well, I'm not. And whoever group or person finds this video, don't show it to anyone else. Not yet. Trust me, you'll see why." Another sigh, "Alright, let's start."

As he spoke to the camera lens, he felt his heart was being poured out on the spot and the whole world was watching. Everything that he had experienced, everything that they did to him and everything that needed to be said was being released onto this video. He felt no regret in taking this action, only release.

Halfway through his confession, a headache started building. Through the will to keep going, he managed to push it off but for how long? It was unclear, the migraines could last anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes. He wasn't sure how long this speech was going to be, but he had to tell everything and a migraine was not going to stand in his way.

Four minutes more and it was becoming intolerable. Every word undulating through his mouth caused a twist in his mind, making him pause at the end of sentences to ease the strain. It wasn't too bad though. His episodes could be and had been a lot worse.

Soon, his confession was ending and he found himself parting his white hair to the side to rub his temples. "I have to repeat myself… Please, do not take this video public... For your sake and mine, please don't…"

Matthew stopped talking and felt only the steady beat of the migraine bouncing on his brain. Carefully, his hand reached into the backpack and pulled out his second piece of equipment. The dangerous object was jet black but had tanned brown leather on its grip and a shiny silver ring around the edge of the barrel. It looked good for a handgun. He wondered if the person he swiped it from paid a lot for it.

He gritted his teeth and shook the gun. Little clinks could be heard from the magazine and loading chamber. Only one bullet. His grip eased on the handle as his body shook to the point where it nearly fell but he tightened his hand at the last moment. Come on, Matthew. You can do this.

"I… I have to do this to attract people, okay? Others don't know about my ability and if I just fire randomly… it won't get the attention I need. The police will come… I just need someone to find this… Someone not with them." He reached his hand out, feeling his ability push the psychic energy through him, and reached out with his mind to turn off the recording. He used it once more to push it behind the desk and out of sight.

He put his toque back on, tucking every piece of white hair underneath the headwear until none remained. Even after the deed had been done, Jeremy still couldn't know.

He let out a monumental exhale, enough to cause a shiver of anticipation to chill his veins. His hand tightened on the grip and quickly brought the weapon to the side of his head, feeling the hair move back to their positions despite the interference.

Please don't hurt as much as last time, he thought. He pulled the trigger.

The world was colorful with the light blue bed sheets and the textured wood frame and had a nice chill in the air from the outside snow. He could hear the light creaking of the old mattress he sat upon as well as the wind whistling outside. All of that was turned off at the sound of a shot.

There was no pain for the time being. Matthew could feel the blackness around him move like a thick fluid similar to tar or oil. He was not floating nor falling, just… being. Then, the blackness caught fire and he felt the scorching pain writhe through his vessel and heighten his senses almost to the point of overwhelming.

He could hear Jeremy's voice piercing through the black, saying something along the lines of, "Oh Arceus, what the fuck!" His steps went away and were eventually covered by the high-pitched note of tinnitus.

Matthew opened his eyes next and saw the blurry image of the floor. His head was searing from the wound. The sense of taste and smell were the last to come back. The taste of copper was seemingly embedded in his tongue from how much blood was in his mouth. A warm stream came from the right and left side of his face; the bullet had gone through fully. Good.

He waited a few more seconds for the pain to settle down before he made the attempt to adjust his body. His legs, while stiff, moved on command and went from behind his head to under it.

The double vision cleared up after a minute. He needed to work fast. The last thing he needed was to get discovered in the state he was in.

"Get up, Matthew. Get up," he said huskily, shaking with intensity as he felt the holes on either side of his head stop bleeding, begin shrinking and eventually disappear. "See? You're fine, totally fine." He grimaced at the ache of his head. It would last for some time but that was not important now.

Matthew gripped onto the sheets of the bed he once sat upon and ignored the hot vermillion stain that rested on it. There wasn't as much blood as he was expecting, thank goodness, but enough to invoke a crime scene and investigation. He took another clump of fabric into his hand and worked his way up to the bed.

After a minute of torture, he found his upper body slumped onto the top of the bed. His motor control for his legs and arms had improved and he was now ready for real movement.

His walk was slow and deliberate, making sure he didn't lose balance and fall. Reaching the doorway, he peeked out into the snowy city. Jeremy was nowhere to be found, much to his relief. The brisk air soothed the healing wounds on his head.

Carefully, he began walking outside and built the pace up to a steady jog. Before he knew it, the Silverline motel was gone from his sights. He took off his now holey toque and jammed it into one of the parka's pockets. It had served its purpose and he wouldn't need it anymore.

The lights of police cruisers and fire trucks could be seen a block away. They approached, passed him, and continued on their way without skipping a beat. Part one was complete.

Alright, part two. Time to lure out the wolves, he thought.

Matthew passed by the stop sign for a third time. The snow now had piled up an extra quarter inch since he checked last. It was almost becoming tiresome to walk the loop over and over, waiting for them to come looking for him. He wouldn't have thought they would have taken this long. For someone like him, he expected to be swarmed by now. Although, it occurred to him that it probably looked like he was setting up some smoke and mirrors for walking out in the open without a disguise. Nevertheless, they would be here eventually.

His environment was also not exactly the friendliest invitation. It was the worst part of Goldenrod City. The buildings around him were dilapidated and discolored. The entire area held an unsettling air that frequently made him look around. There weren't any people around here, and that's why he knew they would eventually show themselves.

His hand brushed over his hair, feeling the crumbly, solidified blood that remained from his act. The pain had long been forgotten and the wound had vanished. All thanks to his abilities.

Matthew stopped walking, seeing a shady, solitary figure ahead of him. There was no need for him to find out who this was. The wolves were out, and one was giving the impression that it was alone, waiting for the moment for the prey to get near before the entire pack came to assault. Matthew smiled, taking steps forward.

"Hey there, Matthew. It's not much like you just to be wandering in the open," the figure said, the familiar voice resonating like a cave echo. It had been some time since he had heard that voice. Though, he couldn't put his finger on who it was. Nine years had the tendency to make people forget some things.

"Well, a nice change of pace is welcome after some time. You should look into it… uhh... Sorry, I forgot your name," Matthew said, shoving his hands into his pockets. But sometimes, I want to forget.

He heard a light chuckle from the figure, "Don't worry about it." He raised his head of black hair, toned to the style of a crew cut, and revealed his stark face that showed little more than the pure intention of determination. A slight smirk, revealing shiny white teeth, showed only the smallest bit of malice, but Matthew knew better. A name wasn't important if you knew exactly what they did.

"I did too, thanks to you." The man's voice was lined with pique.

"I think I remember you now," Matthew said, stepping closer. Come on, you cowards. Step out of the shadows already, you're not fooling anyone here. "Colvin, wasn't it? You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you. I guess Team Saber got your brain up and running."

Colvin's smile wavered, "Sure did. All of them did, actually. But I suppose you figured that out already, didn't you?"

Matthew stopped walking forward. There was a good amount of length between him and Colvin but the tension was rising between the two at an exponential rate. "Are you going to get your grunts to attack or is this going to be one on one?"

He shrugged, "Doesn't matter. One way or another, you're coming back to the Deity Lab."

Matthew lost his smile and narrowed his eyes. "I'll die before that," he said through barred teeth.

"I guess that's the hard part, huh?" Colvin was the one who stepped forward this time, his grin widened and discomfort set over Matthew. He put a finger to his ear, "All units, go ahead."

Matthew jerked his head around, seeing some grunts step out of the alleyways surrounding them. Then, from behind, a grunt stepped out with a manectric and launched an attack.

"Thunderbolt! Now!" the grunt yelled, just as Matthew was turning around. The manectric generated large sparks in its fur and launched out a bolt of lightning directly at Matthew.

It hit him square in the chest and he fell to the street paralyzed, twitching as the electricity surged through him.

Shit… that hurt. Come on, heal up already. Don't get shocked again. He felt his control come back to him but he remained idle on the ground, giving the illusion of paralysis.

"Shock him again," Colvin's voice drifted over to him.

"Sir?" the grunt said, more footsteps surrounding the voice told Matthew that the others were coming out. And judging by the rough scraping sounds of claws on concrete, their pokemon were coming out too.

"Do it," Colvin said coldly, "Make sure he's done."

Hate to burst your bubble but… Matthew jumped up and readied his attack on the surprised Colvin and grunts. His hands lit up with magenta psychic energy and he focused it all on the ground. The resounding boom briefly deafened his ears. The ground violently shook in the aftermath as a crater formed from the release of energy. Concrete sprayed out and peppered the ground.

The grunts were displaced, all of them in the position that Matthew was in a few moments ago. The short-lasting earthquake had done its job. Now he was in the clear. They were focused on him and not where he had been. The tape was safe, at least for now. Hopefully it was enough time for the police to take it, and then just maybe, there was a glimmer of hope for him.

"Bastard!" Colvin yelled. Matthew turned his head.

He was standing back up, holding a black pistol. It was not unlike the one Matthew had used recently. His smile was far gone, replaced by the full weight of malice that Matthew remembered all too well. "Lay down the gun, Colvin. I'm just going to leave."

"Oh, you aren't leaving… You've done too much to me without paying for it. That's gonna happen now… You are going to pay for-"

His hand that held the firearm was suddenly surrounded by magenta energy and his grip loosened, causing the gun to fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry, but you knew what happened back there," Matthew said, "I'm never going back, Colvin. No matter what."

The gun slowly caved in on itself, the energy flowing around it like plasma gradually crushing the plastic and metal into an abstract art sculpture.

Colvin turned his eyes up at Matthew, letting out a tiny grin. "You will."

Matthew tried to dodge but it was too late as another electric attack caught his backside. His muscles tensed and he once again fell to the ground. He tried using his powers again, attempting to push the energy out.

It never came to pass, the electricity was keeping his powers from being released and now, just as the effects seemed to be wearing off, another shock hit him on the ground. They weren't letting up this time. But this couldn't be the end, not now. They would not take over his being and force him to be their slave. Not again.

"Zap him again! Don't you dare let him get up!" Colvin screamed. A bombardment of electric attacks connected with Matthew's body. The pungent scent of ozone irradiated off his body. He jerked and twitched and yelled out in pain as the electricity burned the lining in his parka and dripped liquid faux fur onto his back.

No… Damn it… I can't let this stop me. Don't black out Matthew. Don't let them take you back. But it was so hard, the electricity kept sending the gruesome current through his nerves and pushing him to spaz in the position. All the while, he could slowly but surely hear Colvin's footsteps approaching at a frightening rate. Out of the corner of his eye, the black work boots of the mercenary stepped into view.

"You're going back Matthew. No matter what happens, eventually you will come back," he said spitefully. Colvin knelt down so that Matthew could just barely see him in the corner of his eye. "I'm going to get you back there, no matter the cost. That's my promise to you."

He felt his eyes widen at those words but they were nearly forgotten due to the reminder of searing electrical pain. Just focus, you can get an opening soon. The pokemon ought to get tired sometime. Just don't black out. His sight was getting much darker than he wanted it to be.

The pokemon couldn't get tired fast enough. Every passing moment the attacks were weaker but his strength had decreased tenfold. His hope was dwindling but still he kept going. The situation he was in was very bad in itself but the Deity Lab was so much worse. Oh Arceus, was it so much worse.

Then it happened, an opening. There was a brief pause in the attacks of the pokemon and he tried to gather as much strength as he could. He needed to teleport and fast.

"Why the hell did you stop!? Keep going damn it!" Colvin's voice echoed in his ears.

You got this, just focus, keep focusing until you're far away. And then… Just…

Matthew flashed a brilliant cyan then completely disappeared, leaving nothing in his place.

There was no solid emotion in Colvin's mind for a second and then-

"That son of a bitch teleported! He fucking teleported! Are you fucking serious!?" he yelled, making his grunts shudder from his brunt. But in his mind, scared troopers took up none of the space. After nine years of waiting, he disappeared. Rage fueled fire burned his mind, making him weave a tapestry of profanity.

"Sir…" a grunt said. Colvin gave him a death glare. He gulped, "He couldn't have gone far, he was weak from the electricity."

Colvin grabbed the grunt on the shoulder and gave him a forced smile. "Yes… Yes, of course… And that would be so nice if it wasn't for the fact that he can fucking heal and teleport another damn time!"

A beep sounded out from Colvin's transceiver and he shoved the grunt away. Team Saber just had to call him now. They had to call him right when he lost Matthew.

He held his finger to his ear, "This is Colvin Dunn reporting."

A voice came from the speaker, deep and condescending, which didn't help his state of mind. "Have you found NH-3 yet?"

"Yes, sir we have…"

"And…? Have you caught him then?"

He cringed. They would not tolerate what he was about to say. Right after he had begged them to take on this task, just so he could find Matthew again and take his vengeance, he had lost him. No matter how he looked at it, he was screwed.

"No… He escaped… We got some hits off him but he got away."

There was nothing but coming from the other end of the channel, almost as if their connection had been severed. Colvin gritted his teeth, hating the silence. Team Saber was probably debating what they would do with him now. He was once the top mercenary for the organization and never failed a task. Then, that one kid, that one damn kid-

"Come back to the Deity Lab, Colvin," the voice said softly, as though acting like a friend, "There's something we need to do."

"Sir, there's a chance that he is still somewhere around the city," Colvin said, not believing his own words. "Just give me a bit of time and…"

"This is nonnegotiable. Our cameras have yet to detect him regardless. Meet at the rendezvous point." The voice went silent and the static began buzzing again.

For a second, Colvin was ready to shatter the transceiver on the pavement but resisted; it wouldn't change anything. Team Saber had his fate in their hands and was looking for ways of bending and shaping it into their own version of what they wanted. Whatever he did now would only increase the likelihood of a less than pleasant end.

"Sir, are we going to move out?" a grunt spoke from beside him. Colvin kept his eyes on the ground, watching tiny snowflakes fall and melt on the asphalt. "Sir? Are we-"

"Yes, let's head to the rendezvous," he said quickly. He breathed once, and then started forward.

Matthew felt the texture that he was atop change instantaneously from the rock-hard concrete to soft but slightly frozen grass. He sighed from the relief of electricity but still felt the melted material from his parka sticking to his back.

He sat up and carefully took the large winter coat off, feeling the now solidified material peel off from his skin. Once off, he felt his ability switching on and fixing up the damaged flesh. Alleviated, he brought his parka to his eyes and surveyed what was left.

The back had a gaping hole, where he imagined all the material that was once on his back was, and had its edges singed. His long sleeve shirt was much of the same, save for the larger hole. On the inside of the parka, there was a mess of milky white goo that was once the inner lining. Needless to say, it was totaled.

Matthew sighed, his psychic could keep him warm but his energy would go down much faster. If he collapsed in the snow, with all his energy gone, even his healing ability couldn't help.

But he couldn't have that happen. Team Saber could not win. No matter the cost, he had to stop them.

He stood up and took in his surroundings. Right in front of him was a wall of pine trees towering over the clearing he was on. Snow cascaded down their needles that formed a soft and gentle ambience, nearly forcing a smile from him. The ground was coated white with a littering of pines scattered amongst the bases of the trees, thinning out near where he was.

He turned around and saw the mouth of the suburbs just beginning to open a little way from him. Past the last of the forest's trees was a small road that was lined with houses.

The teleportation had done its job, albeit a shorter distance than he could be comfortable with. Now he could continue. He just had to get another parka from a different city and he would be golden. Teleporting there would take more energy than he had now, however. He would need to walk until he built up enough again.

He started walking, abandoning his parka. The snow had stopped falling for now, and the wind had ceased blowing in its typical unforgiving manner. For Matthew, the little break in the cycle of shit being thrown at him was met with overwhelming solace.

His boots crunched the snow beneath him, making a shummf noise at every interval of his feet coming down and then wrenching them out with a shhuh sound.

Shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh.

The beat was almost relaxing. It made him recall his time with his friend in the band they made. So long ago, such peace.

Shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh.

Did he want to go back to that life? Yes, undeniably. But he knew that it wasn't possible yet, so he needed to make that path open for him. And that started with getting a new parka and leaving another message.

Shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh.

The number of messages he needed to leave didn't concern him. If he needed to shoot himself in the head a thousand times over to tell people of the danger that was Team Saber, then it needed to be done.

Shummf, shhuh, shummf, shhuh, shu-trruh

His mind couldn't process the break in the pattern fast enough before his right foot underneath him was pulled up at lightning speed. A measly scream of surprise shot out of him as his sight turned upside down.

"What the hell!?" he yelled in his confusion, swinging like a pendulum. Looking up at the situation, his leg was snared in a poacher's knot of all things. Had he seriously just walked into a trap for pokemon? Wherever the hunter was, he hoped they would release him without too much questioning.

Except there wasn't anyone around to his knowledge. Any human who was watching would have made themselves known by now. He couldn't hear anything around either. It was safe for now.

He reached his hand to where the knot was and focused his psychic. He expected the knot to unravel any second and he would come crashing down but… nothing.

You're still surprised from the trap, just calm down and try again, he assured himself. He pushed harder and managed to get a spark of magenta psychic energy to be emitted from his hand before it was doused. He was left with his hand extended to his feet, a strained expression being shown on his face and being hung two feet off the ground by a simple rope. He felt really stupid, as though he was missing something.

Oh, forget it. He abandoned his first plan and reached his arm up to the knot, being barely out of reach. He turned his head up, trying to get a better view. His arm stretched relentlessly and he swore he would pull a muscle very soon but he only managed to brush against the very edge of the rope.

"Come on… You gotta be kidding-" he was whispering to himself before he felt something sharp poke the top of his head and he let himself drop in shock. Once he recovered, he didn't like what he saw.

A lucario was standing before him, holding a spear with a sharpened stone tip that was directed right between his eyes. Slowly, Matthew brought his hands down and gulped audibly.

"Oh shit," he said, less audibly.

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Peace!

-Minusbomb