Interlude – Fallout III

Interlude – Fallout III

INTERLUDE - FALLOUT III

May 5th 20XX, 9:56PM (Shinwa Time/SWT) - Lily of the Valley Island - Grace Pastel

What material were these bed sheets made from? Even after having laid here for two hours, they felt just as cold as they had when I'd first jumped in bed. My back was sinking into the mattress like it was a marshmallow and by the Legendaries, I was exhausted, but my eyes were wide open, looking at every inch of my room. It was a small lodging on the Lily of the Valley Island, which I'd been Teleported back to in the wake of... everything. Putting it in a single word felt as if I wouldn't be doing it justice. A week of nothing but hard work, suffering and just constant fighting that wore down my very soul had lasted an afternoon in the real world. Part of me felt like it hadn't been real. Like it couldn't be over just like that. Without the adrenaline pumping in my veins, the high stakes, the thought that every minute could be my last, well—

I felt a little empty. Purposeless.

My hands gripped at my bedsheets until I turned to my side, toward my nightlight.

I'd left it on. This room wasn't that large and had been hastily made to accommodate me. It was about 30 feet by 30 feet and was constructed with smooth, white walls that curved seamlessly into the floor and ceiling. Out the door, I could see a tiny window leading to an airlock that was the loudest, most annoying thing on the planet whenever someone tried to come in. The air was kept sterile through a complex system of filters and purifiers, humming softly in the background. The room was furnished minimally but comfortably, with a single narrow yet comfortable bed bolted to the floor, a small stainless steel table, and a simple but ergonomic chair.

The scientists who'd led me here had profusely apologized for the awful accommodation, but I honestly couldn't care less. They'd spoken to me in bright white hazmat suits that hid their faces and made me think I was talking to robots, not human beings. A sealed hatch in one wall led to a tiny bathroom with the necessary supplies and a shower. The lighting had had a bright, almost clinical quality, casting no shadows in a way that almost made it look fake, but now that my handlers had turned off the lights, I was left with a single, dim light to keep away the shapes lurking in the corner of my vision.

See, despite Mesprit's endless complaints (to the point of exhausting themselves), this was the first time people had gone into the Dusk in recorded history, and then we even made it back. This was a situation without precedent, and so they'd taken me, along with everyone who'd been in the Distortion World to these tiny capsules overnight with the goal of letting us out at some point tomorrow. Even Cynthia. My Pokemon, including Buddy, had also been taken just in case to be healed in special, sterile facilities. Hopefully I'd see him and Mimi by tomorrow, though. I didn't have any of my personal items— not even my phone— and they'd put me in a medical gown sewn with comfortable cloth. I didn't get to see any of my friends other than getting reassurances that Denzel and Chase were alive, not my parents, and I couldn't even look at the damn news.

I inhaled loudly. The room smelled like cleaning products. Not great, for a 'welcome back'. Now that I was without distraction or the desperate want to survive, not being able to hear out of my left ear was irritating, even if it was just the quiet hum of the vents and machinery, and my right ear still wasn't recovering right. I'd definitely look into hearing aids tomorrow, at least. It shouldn't be difficult getting seen by a doctor right away without wait time.

Even though exhaustion had a tight hold of me, I found drifting off to sleep to be impossible. Not when every time I closed my eyes I could see its shape drifting across my eyelids. Shivering, I wrapped myself tightly in my bed sheets like it was a cocoon and wished one of my Pokemon were here. When was the last time I'd slept without at least one of them in the room? There were tingles on my neck, a very physical feeling that had me thinking that something was about to lunge at me from behind despite that making no sense whatsoever.

My feet swept across the bed as I sat on its side with a groan, then yelped when my bare feet touched the cold floor. How did people sleep alone again? I didn't even have Maylene to watch for danger, and I knew she always slept with an eye open. My hand went above my shoulder to scratch my back, and I stared at the digital clock embedded in the wall to see how much longer I had left until someone was going to show up. 10PM sharp, huh? Was I supposed to just roll around until six in the morning?

"Tired..." I muttered.

Was this what insomnia felt like? Even back when I'd first started my journey, with the nightmares about Golbat and Mars, it had never been this bad. If I was like this, the others probably were, too. Hell, Cynthia was worse, but I doubt she was going to sleep. They were probably constantly updating her on what was going on throughout the region...

Frustrating. I wanted to know what was going on, too. At least the others and my parents knew I was safe, but it was going to be a while until I was going to get a phone.

Pacing around the small room in hopes of exhausting myself, I eventually tried to peek through the airlock to see any hints of activity.

Nothing.

"Damn it." I looked around for something to kick, but there was nothing in the room for me to use. "I'm supposed to... supposed to..."

It was over. The world was saved! I internally screamed those words at myself over and over until my lips stretched into a smile nowhere as wide as it'd been just a few hours prior. The sheer nonchalance of the way I'd been treated like it was just another day, processed, even, had sucked the joy out of me and all that remained was the foreboderance that the world wasn't going to pause after this. They would not sing about us, or know about what we'd done. After all the bombs, the deaths, the tremors around Coronet, the climb, the fights, after everything, it would just be routine, because the gears of the state never stopped turning. It never paused to breathe, because that would bring forth collapse, especially now.

That gave me the ick.

Eventually, though I did not know when, I passed out, and beneath the fear of Giratina, the fear of horrors beyond my comprehension was a single thought, repeating over and over in the back of my mind like water dripping against a stone until erosion would destroy it entirely.

I saved the world. My story is over.

—

May 6th 20XX, 9:52AM (Shinwa Time/SWT) - Lily of the Valley Island - Cecilia Obel

Finally, Cecilia was out of that cell the League had called a decontamination room, yet she was not free to leave their clutches quite yet. She sat on one of those long chairs you could also lay down on that she forgot the name of... ah, a recliner chair. This reminded her of a therapists' office, not that she'd ever seen one before. Her therapy sessions had always been on the road, after all. The walls were toned with some kind of warm colors, which she guessed the intention was to make her feel warm and safe.

It didn't work. Not only did the light bother her to the point of glaring, but she was colorblind, now. Her face felt tight after the two gashes across her face had been stitched together earlier in the morning, giving her quite the morbid look, or at least that's what Cecilia thought once she looked at herself in the mirror. It'd look better once they were taken out— not that she cared for looks anyway.

Cecilia scrolled through her phone with a deep yawn. She hadn't slept a wink last night, nor had she wanted to. The walls were adorned with framed paintings depicting nature. A group of Buizel swimming upriver, with one jumping up a tiny waterfall to higher ground; a Snorlax lying down in a meadow with two Fletchlings on its stomach; a group of Bouffalant, hundreds strong, grazing across a field. A cute attempt. There was a vase with a bouquet of flowers Cecilia assumed were Lilies on the curved wooden desk with a picture frame she hadn't bothered to look at. Her attention was elsewhere. Out the rather large window, through that glaring sunlight, she could see countless League personnel going about their duties down below, no doubt desperate to keep the region in order. Cynthia was scheduled to give a speech four hours from now, which would be her first appearance since the bombings, and the entire nation was on edge. Cecilia yawned as she scrolled through her phone.

Where to begin? The two biggest headlines of the day were 'Sinnoh Attacked! Countless Bombs Detonated by Team Galactic,' with the precision that they'd found 12,345 deaths so far and climbing, albeit slower. There were slightly more than that wounded, filling makeshift hospitals built in hotel lobbies and school gyms. The second headline was 'Massive Rift Opens Above Mount Coronet: Unprecedented Phenomenon Stuns The Country'. Stuns was the correct word to use, here. Even now, as the nation was mourning, the internet and the news were foaming at the mouth to understand what the hell that had been. Legendary was the word on most people's lips. They believed that Team Galactic had taken control of a Legendary and nearly wiped out the region, which was admittedly close, but also far off the mark.

But it was the forums that Cecilia found herself glued to. Even after all of this, there was a connection she had with trainers that she didn't have with any other community. Unlike before, the League was no longer censoring information with their Porygon and deleting threads, but all discussions about the rift specifically had to be contained to a single thread who already was on its 112th iteration, even with a cooldown of 5 minutes between a user's every post.

►TierFive5

We know the government's hiding information about Legendaries. We'd be stupid to think the opposite, and I assume that's the case for literally every country. The question is, is Cynthia going to tell us about it or is she just gonna do the typical government speak for 'we know what the fuck it is, and we're not telling you'.

►Ssoosnakey124543

We haven't seen her in way too long, tbh. She might be dead and they're scrambling to replace her with a Ditto for a while until she mysteriously 'retires' and is never heard from again. My cousin and his son died in the bombings, and the government is going to lie to us again. Fuck them.

►Rajafern

I mean, there has to be a reason her speech won't be given in public and won't have any reporters present. What if it's an edited clip of her with multiple audio clips of her voice stitched together? An AI video of her powered by Porygon?

Then, she set her eyes on a familiar name.

►Archive

I wouldn't go that far, but they're defo going to keep this shit under tight wraps. Are you hearing what's going on internationally? Almost all of the Champions have given statements about wanting to know more, which is their way of subtly pressuring us into contacting their governments to share information about capital L Legendary incidents as has been custom since the war, but I don't know if Cynthia will share.

►KreeLily1

Shut up and stick to podcasting about battles, lil bro. Stay in your lane.

►Marcus_Paul (Verified Trainer)

Can you motherfucking conspiracy brained pieces of shit lay off the drugs for one damn second and use your heads.

Hm. Cecilia was surprised that post hadn't been deleted, but the moderators must have been working overtime without as many Porygon to scrape the website.

Before she could keep reading, the door softly opened, and Cecilia found herself face to face with a stranger. "Sorry for the wait, I was being briefed about your entire situation." He was a rather stout man with a bit of belly fat, but with one the brightest eyes she'd ever seen that had her thinking he was blind for a second. Was that blue? Or hazel, maybe? She couldn't tell. He walked across the room to his desk, which was sitting on the side right next to the window, and sat down after raking the chair against the ground as softly as he could. He wore the normal, orange-ish League Uniform, though this one looked a little tight for him. The uniform was draped in a white coat that League Scientists wore around here with an insignia embroidered on the chest. "My name is Dr. Sanders, and I've been assigned to you this morning. Now, how are you feeling?"

Contrary to appearances, this man was no therapist. She'd refused to see her old one again later today, because who could help her, at this point?

"Fine," she shortly answered, turning away from him. She instead looked at the books in Dr. Sanders' bookshelf, close to the door. Most of it had to do with TE research of some kind, and some were even attributed to himself.

Once Dr. Sander realized that had been her only answer, he grabbed a pen from his desk and tapped it on a clipboard he dragged from a drawer. "Before we begin, I'd like to tell you my credentials—" Cecilia's eyes twitched. "—not to brag, but for you to know that you're in good hands." Then, he paused and just looked at her with something deep in his eyes. "You've been through a lot, Cecilia."

Had that been supposed to make her feel better? She rolled her eyes and opted just to nod so he would get on with his tirade. Dr. Sanders rapidly pressed on the clicker mechanism on his pen and took a deep breath.

"I have a PhD in Type Energy and how it affects the human condition. I've published numerous papers on the matter," he nudged his head toward his bookshelf, "and written many books on the topic. I've worked as a Professor in Jubilife's Barauche's University for twenty-five years, after which I was hired by the League for my expertise in the topic." Dr. Sanders cleared his throat, tapping his pen on his clipboard. "Let's begin with a question. What do you know about Type Energy and its effects on people?"

Cecilia reclined herself on her chair and finally put her phone down. "My girlfriend was overloaded by her Togekiss— a Togetic at the time, and it made her act more fairy-like by accentuating some of her traits."

"Excellent. A Basic understanding, and not particularly wrong, just like we oversimplify that there are only three states of matter in schools." A smile reached the man's thin lips. "Though I took a look at Grace's case before coming here, and I'd push that the consequences of her connection with the Domain Holder on route 215 and its teachings can't be understated— but this is about you."

Finally, the glare of the sun became too much. "Can you—can you close the window shutters, please." It wasn't as if it was impossible for her to be out during the day, or even that it hurt her eyes. Cecilia was confident she'd be able to handle it as long as she had before her death. It was just unpleasant. Dr. Sanders followed with a wordless acquiescence, instead turning on a dimmer light on the ceiling. "Thank you."

"Now, as the situation was described to me, and as you told the League yesterday night, you died and used Perish Song to... resurrect yourself." His tight uniform couldn't contain the trembling breath he seemingly wanted to take after that. The whole idea had him uncomfortable. "This means your body took in—"

"I know," she cut him off. "I know already. The way I behaved has drastically changed because of these feelings I get."

The doctor slowly nodded as he scribbled something down. "I understand—" before she could interrupt him again, he spoke over her. "No, I do. I am the most qualified person in the country for this topic— though some of my peers may disagree." A saddened smile fell as soon as it appeared. "I've studied four ghost specialists in my time here, including Ailwyn Serche. I understand."

Ailwyn Serche. Radetic's second-hand man, and previous Elite Four member, somewhat like Lucian Godefroy was to Cynthia now. He'd had mostly ghost type Pokemon, of whom his ace had been a Dhelmise, and he'd died of old age in Pastoria a few years back. Even if he'd been ridden of all his political power and reputation, he was the only one who had remained in Sinnoh of the previous administration. Cecilia understood that by ghost specialist, he must have meant people who were actually affected by TE here.

"I'm not a ghost specialist," she bit back, though with less strength than she wanted to. Her voice finally returned to its... usual quiet.

"But you have the body of a ghost type specialist who's been alive for far longer than you are with Pokemon far more powerful than you currently possess, and you're looking at acquiring a Spiritomb next," Dr. Sanders said. His tone wasn't even patronizing, but the idea that she was still so weak after everything she'd been through tasted like ashes in her mouth. "I'll try to explain. You see, for all my expertise, there's actually very little we know in terms of rules for Type Energy. Rare is it imbibed enough to make a difference regardless, and when it is..." he smirked. "Of the four ghost type specialists I've studied— five including you, do you think two have been the same?"

Cecilia leaned forward. Outside, she heard the ringing of a bell inside League Headquarters as the clock struck ten in the morning. It was easy to see that Dr. Sanders was partly enjoying this. Posing questions, and waiting for an answer. Cecilia presumed it was the teacher in him.

"No," she guessed.

"Exactly. The same can be said for every specialist, really, though there will often be some common effects." The excitement in his voice was palpable. Cecilia felt a little like a specimen he could study instead of a patient he was meant to help. "For example, your distaste of sunlight was shared by three ghost specialists, including Ailwyn himself, but not Riley Gutierrez."

That name, Cecilia couldn't place. Maybe a high-ranking League Trainer, or an ACE, or a Conference Regular. Someone who'd have passed by the League enough times and was powerful enough to catch Sanders' eye.

The doctor followed by asking her how she believed she'd changed since her resurrection. Her inability to see color had been something every ghost specialist suffered from, including the famous ones like Allister in Galar.

"What about Fantina, then?" she asked.

"Fantina asked her ghosts to cut off their leakage decades ago, so she only got a mild dose," Dr. Sanders explained as he continued writing about her symptoms. "That was courtesy of her predecessor who did the same."

Satisfied with the answer, she continued. The inability to speak loudly save for periods of intense emotion was just her, the numbness and coldness at her extremities was common, as was that prickle of pleasure she felt whenever someone was scared of her. Again, her tendency to let her neck or limbs to go limp like a puppet without strings as if she'd learned an entirely new body language was just her— something Sanders theorized had to do with the fact that Golurk were constructs.

But it was emotion, that was biggest problem she was currently facing.

"Ghosts are very emotional creatures," he said, wagging a finger intently. "They are, after all, born from lingering emotions. Hate is something that binds them, but that is often overshadowed by the myriad of other complex feelings. The crux of the issue is this— these feelings are always negative."

Her throat tightened, and she clenched a fist around the couch's leather.

"That doesn't mean they aren't capable of feeling positive ones like love, joy, excitement, et cetera." He waved a hand in a dismissive motion. "Just that it is more difficult for them to do so. The question is, what emotions have wormed its way into your heart, Cecilia?"

She pondered it for a moment, as if it wasn't obvious. Writ across her very soul, having seized it in a vice grip that threatened to pop her like a balloon.

"I don't know," she finally answered. "Actually, I—I do know, but it's..."

"Take your time."

"I know I can take my time," she snarled. Her nails dug into the couch. "I can't be happy with myself. There's that, but there's also regret at what I've done, a feeling of inadequacy, and..." Jealousy could be omitted. She wasn't even sure that had anything to do with her condition anyway. Just that she had issues keeping it down. "I feel worthless, and I can't keep the thoughts contained. It's like they get forcefully sent to my brain and I have to vocalize them. I have to face them."

Dr. Sanders' fingers tapped against the desk as he finished writing his report. "Regret and doubt, hm? Riley was revenge, Ailwyn was bitterness, Nyla was humiliation and loneliness; this is only the second time I've seen someone have two— ah, but I'm rambling." He went on to explain that regarding her sleeping issues, she would suffer from insomnia, something that all his subjects had been dealt with. "I know you have a Slowking with the move Hypnosis being healed at the moment, but I'll always be the first to say that one shouldn't develop a dependency to anything Pokemon-related. The more you use it, the less you'll be able to sleep without. If push comes to shove, I have the authority to give you a sleeping pill prescription."

So that was why she hadn't even felt like closing her eyes yesterday night after everything. Her body felt... fine, but she trusted this man's words, even if her opinion of strangers veered toward dislike, now.

"I have another question for you, if you don't mind?" he questioned.

Like she deserved a choice.

She inclined her head. "Go ahead."

He blinked at her. Had she tilted her neck more than necessary? Had it lasted too long? He audibly gulped. "We've covered most of what we need to cover—"

Her phone rang, a message from her friends' group chat. Pauline had asked for how everyone was doing, which was her fifth message in the last hour. Her, Emilia and Louis had met again and were waiting for Cecilia and the others to be done with their obligations. Both Mira's uncle and Natalia had been moved to the League's high security prison, as had Clara and any surviving Team Galactic members, of whom there weren't that many. Grace was currently with Maylene doing tests for their future hearing aids... her heart squeezed. At least the Gym Leader would be Teleported back in Veilstone within the next hour. Cecilia fully believed she did not deserve to question their closeness, nor their friendship, but it was unpleasant all the same.

She needed to see Grace. Needed to bask in her warmth now that she was so cold. Once, in Sunyshore, Cecilia had called her the sun, and it felt truer now than it ever had.

As for Chase and Denzel? They were still in the hospital, and they were planning to visit with the others. As it turned out, Denzel's case had been a lot worse than Chase's. More insidious. While her old half had already awoken, Denzel was still asleep, under a medically-induced coma to reduce the horrible pain he was under.

"Cecilia?" Him calling out her name had her realize that he'd been doing so for the last ten seconds.

"I apologize, I got lost in my own thoughts. What is it?"

"This is for my own research, so feel free to ignore me if you don't want to answer." He waited a bit to see if she would deny him right away, but continued when he saw that she did not. "You've made your desire to head back to Unova known, and it's no secret, even there, that you will be aiming for the position of Champion within the next few years." Click. Click. Click. The clicking of his pen was deafening. She hated that tic, and for no particular reason. "Do you still feel the same? This is to log if being overtaken by regret or doubt is enough to change a person's motivation."

She chewed on his words for a few seconds, and leaned against her palm. There was a rot permeating through Unova, yet the majority of the population was blind to it, preferring to opt not to rock the boat because the truth was, it wasn't that bad if you didn't pay attention. Look inside every crevice where malice could hide away from the public eye. No matter how hard the so-called 'extremist' parties beat their drums, their hopes of getting a majority was thin, and even then that would only be the first hurdle.

Her need to help the people— that had nearly all evaporated. In fact, she was almost angry at them for being so blind and sleep-walking toward oblivion. A full-fledged corporatocracy, not just an incomplete one, where candidates would be able to represent businesses instead of the people. It had already been brought up in parliament two years back, yet had failed.

The want to change the country for the better was still lit deep within her, yet it was a campfire where it had once been a conflagration big enough to reach the sky. Her revenge against her father, showing Mark how it should be done, going scorched earth on Unova's corporate world and weaning them out over her potential reign— all of that now came second to 'am I good enough?' Would she be able to cope and feel like anything she would ever get from this day forth was deserved?

A "yes," was her only answer.

Dr. Sanders deflated, arms gone limp against his desk and no doubt having hoped for more. "Then I suppose we're done here."

—

May 6th 20XX, 10:19AM (Shinwa Time/SWT) - Lily of the Valley Island - Maylene Suzuki

The large, padded headphones covering Maylene's head felt like they were suffocating her, even if that made little sense. She sat in a large, soundproof booth with soft, padded walls that absorbed sound and prevented any echoes. Honestly, it looked more like a tiny living room than an audiology clinic, but Maylene knew one of the pluses that the League and Pokemon Centers had over a lot of private clinics was that they made you feel right at home.

A voice rang out in her ears. "Horsea. Mimikyu. Airport..."

The Gym Leader repeated them as soon as she could, happy that this was the last test she would have to go through. The last few had been rather invasive to her ears and the idea of someone analyzing her body to tinker with it gave her the creeps. She'd had many nightmares in her younger years involving surgery, and she had a deathly fear of anything doctor-related. Before getting to the clinic and after seeing her parents, Grace had told her that it was because her body was so strong she'd basically never had to go to the doctor, and Maylene figured that made sense—

"Are you having trouble hearing, Ms. Suzuki?"

"Wha— no!" she yelled. "Can we— can we start over?"

Maylene continued with the test, though soon enough the doctor whose name she'd forgotten was lowering the volume in her good ear to check the actual damage in her left. She could see him tweaking with sliders near a huge monitor whose back was facing her. Having something wrong with your body was terrifying, and she forced herself not to grip the chair she was sitting on too hard, lest she rip apart the armrests on accident. After around five minutes, the deed was done and she was finally out of that cramped room, back into a homely office.

Her friend Grace was reclined against her chair with deep bags under her eyes. She hadn't slept for very long— two hours at most. Maylene felt awful for her. The Gym Leader had slept like a log as soon as her head hit the bed, having been too exhausted to even care for any nightmares or visions she might get. And she did get them.

Grace looked deep in thought, uncaring for strands of her dirty blonde hair drooping in front of her eyes as she tapped a delicate finger on the cushioned armrest. Literally delicate. She'd taken off the bandages on her hands this morning, and the skin was all new and pink, a sharp contrast to her burned and scarred arm. Though she was delicate, too. Soft and squishy— like every person other than Maylene. It was a miracle she'd survived that long. She was wearing loose fitting gray jogging pants and a t-shirt that was off-center, leaving one of her shoulders a bit exposed. The Gym Leader's eyes darted away immediately as her face heated up.

The average-looking doc motioned at Maylene to sit. Well-kept brown hair, eyes and a bit of stubble. There were hundreds of him at the League, yet Maylene was certain Cynthia knew each one of their names. Now that he was back at his desk, Grace finally noticed her, and like a switch had been flipped, she put a mask on and disappeared the worry from her face.

She was pretending to be okay, and seeing it kind of hurt.

"How'd it go?" the blonde asked with a sad smile.

Since her left ear was facing her, Maylene made sure to be loud with her answer. "I don't know? I mean, doctor..."

"Thornfield," he said with a somewhat nasal voice. "And Ms. Suzuki's ears are in a much better condition than yours, Ms. Pastel, but don't worry, I'll work as fast as I can to make you both more comfortable. Now, the next step is a trial period for both of you."

He went on to explain that they'd be able to pick out hearing aids, and what kind of hearing aid until they settled on something that fit their needs. Usually this took one to two weeks, up to even a month while the patient tried out different models. Maylene already knew she wasn't going to pick one of the ones that had to be put in the ear canal. She'd honed in on this 'Behind-the-ear' stuff as soon as Dr. Thornfield brought it up. After he went over each type of hearing aid, he brought with him a case full of them from a room behind his office, most of them white or dull grays. He recommended a slew of models in line with the tests he'd run. They could only pick one, though. Maylene just grabbed one at random, and followed instructions on a sheet of paper he'd slid down his desk to put it on herself.

Her ear felt a little tense, but she figured she'd get used to it.

"How does it sound?" the doctor asked.

"Wow," Grace exclaimed.

Yeah, 'wow' was right. Maylene had no idea what Grace had meant in terms of volume, but the way the sound transmitted in her ear was a little robotic.

"It's a little artificial?" Grace frowned and ran a finger along the cartilage of her ear. She'd picked one of the ones that fit neatly in the ear canal, and it'd be hard to see thanks to her long hair. "And everything sounds louder than it used to be in my ear."

"You're free to try any other if you wish." The doctor gestured at the hearing aids with his hand. "But remember, it always sounds odd at first. I'd give it a few days of adjustment if I were you. Ms. Suzuki?"

"There's a little imbalance, I think?" Maylene tried moving her head to capture different sounds around the office. The steps beyond the door, the ticking of a clock hung on the wall, the Starly chirping outside. "Like, I think the background noises are louder in my left ear, now?"

"Ah, that is an issue. Sometimes the device will have a tough time picking up different sounds, and the end result is that background noise is as loud as voices. It can be especially disturbing when you can hear normally in your other ear. Pick another one."

She listened, and her next hearing aid was much better suited for her needs. Granted, Dr. Thornfield was adamant in saying that they couldn't be certain before they spent at least a week with them so they experienced as many sounds as possible.

"When you find one that's right for you, we'll fine tune it until it's perfect. And remember, my office is always open if you have a question. Oh, and here's my email or office number..."

After they were finished, they were left in a calm hallway that was calmer than expected, considering how busy the League was, at the moment. This was one of the medical buildings, but not for emergencies like the massive Pokemon Center near the middle of the island with all of the stadiums. The beige tiles were slippery, having been cleaned earlier this morning. There was even a yellow sign with a stick figure posted up by the end of the hall. Everything was so normal despite the fact that it shouldn't have been.

"Hey, I didn't get a good look at yours," Grace said. Maylene's hair had always been cut short, but her friend staring so intently at her face made her face feel warm. "It looks fine! I wish we could customize them a little bit. Give them a bit of pep. I'd get a pink one myself. You should get one too, it'd go well with your hair." What?! "Wanna take a look at mine?"

Something about her tone rang hollow, but Maylene didn't know how to approach her. She'd asked to stay in contact, but she now realized that she had no idea how to interact with Grace when their survival wasn't in immediate jeopardy.

"Sure," she said, leaning against the glossy walls. She had looked at it already, but it would be weird to just say no to that.

Grace pulled strands of her hair behind her ear, revealing the gray hearing aid stuffed neatly in her ear canal. The sun was shining just right through a window to have her face glow in a really pretty way, accentuating the freckles that peppered her cheeks and nose. Something inside Maylene squeezed, probably worry and squeamishness at the idea of having something buried inside of her ear like that.

The disappointment when she read 'Nia' on the screen was palpable.

She picked up with a heavy breath. "Nia? What is it?" Obviously she'd wanted to tell her something in private, and not with all of their friends and colleagues there. Sinnoh's Gym Leaders were tighter-knit than basically every country, but they still hid things from each other.

"Maymay, um, sorry to call you again, this'll be quick. I just wanted to ask how you were doing, because you... well, there's no way you would be okay after all of what you went through, but if you ever need to talk to me, I'm here, okay? And so is Candice."

Maylene smiled. "Thanks, Nia."

"And if you need to vent about Grace Pastel, too," she added. "I know you were with her as her bodyguard—"

"Wh— no, I'm—" Maylene stopped, and then facepalmed. "Right, you don't know. We're— we're good now."

"Oh. What?"

"Yeah, we're... well, we went through a lot together and I saw a side of her I thought didn't exist, and she's pretty great. So yeah, we're friends."

"That's... it feels a little fast."

"We spent over a week together, climbing the mountain on our own. To you, it feels like a day, but to me it was a while. We've been through a lot," Maylene explained.

"I trust you. Just don't get hurt... wait, hold on." Maylene heard something on the other end of a line, like the clicking of a mouse. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit, what the... no, this can't be true."

"Nia?! What's going on?!"

"It's..."

Craig Goodwill was dead.

—

May 6th 20XX, 12:34AM (Shinwa Time/SWT) - Lily of the Valley Island - Cynthia Collins

Cynthia's office was quiet. Sitting atop one of the spires of the League Headquarters, the Champion was running on caffeine, Togekiss' happiness, and the fear of falling asleep. It was only a matter of time until she'd have to confront the reality that she would have to sleep, eventually, but for now, she'd thrown herself into work. Light filtered through stained glass windows depicting Arceus crafting the world with his thousand arms.

Cynthia drummed her fingers against the side of her arm with Togekiss sitting exhausted at her side. "Who leaked it?"

"Some idealistic high-ranking League Trainer called Milan Sherbert, a Corporal," Joachim Rouzet— the director of the League Secret service— answered her. He was a boring-looking man, but behind those innocent eyes was someone who had ordered countless terrible things in her name. "We've stripped him of his rank and shoved him in a cell for the time being." He bounced his leg against the floor, which was unusual for him. "He sent a picture of the classified document to SGNC, and from there every single news channel picked it up. It's too big to be contained, even if we use every Porygon at our disposal and that Rotom we got from Ernest Compton."

This day couldn't get any worse, could it? A country on fire was already bad enough, but now that people knew Craig was dead— something she'd learned as soon as Flint and Aaron spoke to her, it was as if someone had poured oil on the flames. Craig Goodwill had been a symbol of excellence and hard work. He was the person trainers in Sinnoh looked up to the most. Him being gone did not bode well.

"Keep him in that cell for now," she sighed.

Cynthia had planned to reveal Craig's death today, anyway. There was no way she would have been able to hide the fact that he was just missing after having participated in the operation inside Mount Coronet. There was, however, a big difference between a controlled reveal where she could frame his death and build the narrative however she wanted, and the utter pandemonium that had just erupted among the trainer community.

"What's the reaction looking like?" Cynthia asked, running a hand over Togekiss' fur.

"Civilians and trainers alike are mourning. Some still don't believe it's real, but the majority do," Joachim said, pacing around the room. "There are some conspiracists saying that his death was planned to secure your position as Champion because you thought he was a threat, but it's not anything serious. Just a few loud mouths. What you're looking at will mostly be a nation in shock, if you can even be more in shock than they already are."

"You seem nervous."

The unassuming man gave her an anxious smile. "He was my daughter's idol. She had his merch. She kept saying he was going to win the Conference this year for sure. I'm just... imagining her reaction, right now. My apologies, I'll focus. Do you want me to call the Elite Four over?"

Flint and Aaron were in the hospital for severe frostbite, so what he meant was Bertha and Lucian. Unfortunately, Lucian was coordinating the operation to scour Coronet of any remaining grunts, missing League and ACE Trainers, or their Pokemon. He also had to handle rebuilding Regice's outpost and ridding themselves of the permafrost there, so he had his hands full. Bertha... she would call Bertha over. She'd been the one keeping the League stable and running in the background while Cynthia had focused on things needing her attention right now.

"Bertha," she agreed. Before he could walk out her room and get started on descending the endless flight of stairs, she stopped him. "Stay vigilant. Make sure we aren't caught off-guard like that again."

"Yes ma'am."

As soon as the door closed, she collapsed on her desk, hands sprawling all over the table. Togekiss chirped worryingly at her side. "I'm doing alright. I feel exhaustion creeping up on me." Staying like this would only have her risk slipping into unconsciousness. Tonight. Tonight, she would have Lucian's Alakazam knock her out with Hypnosis.

The Champion scrounged through her messy desk. Countless papers that she'd gone through in the last few hours were strewn without much order to them, but what she was looking for was a small compact mirror buried beneath an executive order suspending regulations that might hinder the speed and efficiency of rescue efforts for fourteen days. Vernon had been quite quick to relay it to the rest of the civilian government. The legalese needed to bypass the courts had been tough, but it wasn't like they were going to try to strike it down anyway.

Arceus, she needed to stop this. How much more until she could finally start building back upon her efforts to bring freedom and political power to her people?

She just needed to see them through this. Afterward, she would end her clampdown on civil liberties.

Her face looked, well, normal. Her tiredness had been hidden beneath layers and layers of makeup for her speech at two in the afternoon, but even then, there was something about her face that was less... solid. Like she'd lost her confidence. She tried to find what was missing for a while, making faces that Togekiss and she laughed at until Bertha knocked her door.

Moments of peace were always fleeting.

She yelled at her to come in.

The older woman slowly walked into the Champion's office with deliberate, well placed steps. "Making me climb stairs again, hm?" She silently sat opposite of Cynthia, adjusting her brown scarf to sit below her mouth. "Legendaries, Cynthia. What a shitshow this is."

Cynthia's eyes widened a smidge. Her mentor did not usually swear.

"Sinnoh has seen better days indeed," the Champion calmly said. "But I became the Champion for a reason. We all have a moment in time where we are truly tested. My test is simply more difficult than my predecessor's. Easier than Leo Florentius, I would say. At least I don't have a war to deal with."

And for how terrible the situation looked, Sinnoh was in a good position to handle it. She had worked hard to unite it, these past two decades. Other nations rarely had their government work lock in step like this, even during a crisis. One just had to look at Kanto-Johto during the Rocket War for proof.

"Don't sell yourself short," Bertha crowed. "But you're correct. Craig's death was not ideal in the first place, given that his presence would have been a soothing one in this situation, but it leaking this way? It's a catastrophe."

"Should I move my speech up?" Cynthia asked. Oh, it wouldn't actually be live. It would have a thirty-second delay, just in case she slipped up somewhere, and then the feed would be altered via Porygon to quickly cut it short. Hopefully she wouldn't need it.

"Perhaps." She tapped a finger on the table twice. "Do it and it feels panicky, don't do it and it feels out of touch. It's a lose-lose situation." Bertha's hand moves to cover Cynthia's, a surprisingly warm gesture for the usually cold woman. "If you need to take a break, my dear, I can handle more of your duties. While you get back on your feet. It'd be best if you don't burn out."

Bertha already knew of Cynthia's experience through the Distortion World, and what she'd seen there. The full, non-redacted information, after all, had been for Elite-Four-Eyes-Only, including a few exceptions like Joachim or trusted military Commanders. The Champion shuddered at the sudden reminder, but shook her head.

"I set out to do this a long time ago. I have to," she declared, her tone resolute. "I'll move up my speech thirty minutes. It'd be too late to hold it at one."

"Very well," the ground type specialist said. "I'll let it be known. And Cynthia— the other Champions want answers. Don't keep them waiting."

Other than Lance, who she had established a direct line of communication to, the other Champions would have to go to official channels, which were slow and cumbersome things.

"I won't. I need to finish this speech first."

It would be her first public appearance since Coronet, and it would set the narrative for the entire crisis. Once that was done, she would contact the other Champions. Lance first, then Wallace, and then the others to tell them that there had indeed been Legendary involvement, but that the situation was under control.

Thirty million people counted on her. She had better not mess it up.

—

May 6th 20XX, 1:28PM (Shinwa Time/SWT) - Lily of the Valley Island - Grace Pastel

He was dead.

Fuck.

The news had swept through the region like a firestorm, and it was Emilia who'd told us first, along with 'at this point, too much is happening at once'. She was right, even if she'd been a little tone deaf about it (to her credit, she hadn't known Craig and had never been much interested in battling). Every hour, it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime event was happening and plastered on the news, and people just didn't know what to talk about.

It was only Cecilia and I, who were sitting in the room afforded to us by the League. It was a fancy hotel room reminding me of the one she'd stayed at in Eterna, given to us for our trouble, as if expensive gifts would matter at all to heal the scab that our experience had formed. Louis, Emi and Pauline had wanted to watch the speech all together, but I couldn't help but feel this distance. Like the same one I'd felt after Veilstone, where we'd first learned we'd been chosen by the Lakes, but an even wider gulf. Mira had instantly gone to Teleport to see if she could find Lauren, but there was no luck yet. We'd even sent her multiple messages, but it had been left on read. As of now, she was missing.

It'll be difficult, but you'll adapt. I believe in you, Grace!

Thanks, Mesprit, I thought back.

If you're really thankful, you'll do more than sit around all day.

Normally, this would have provoked an angry response, but trying to teach the concept of mourning to Mesprit was a lost cause, so I just closed my eyes and sighed as the Guardian sent me the mental equivalent of themselves blowing a raspberry at me.

I was leaning against Cece's shoulder, sitting on a fluffy bed that was entirely too big, even for two people. We were sitting at its edge, facing the television. On it was an empty lectern on a podium, on which Cynthia would set foot any minute now. Behind it was Sinnoh's flag, a red circle surrounded by four white curved lines forming a cross-like pattern, reminiscent of Arceus' arch, and the League flag with its large stylized Pokeball on the same dark blue background. Mimi had been returned to me and was wrapped tightly around my wrist.

Cecilia's cold fingers interlaced with mine to stop them from shaking. Lauren must have been crushed at the news.

I'd known Craig. Not that well, but I'd known him, and the thought that he was just gone couldn't... fit in my head. Like, as far as I remembered, he'd always been there. He was more like a constellation in the sky, permanently etched in the firmament than an actual living, breathing person to me, but now he was gone forever. He had sacrificed himself to beat Regice to allow us to keep ascending Mount Coronet.

He'd saved the world just as much as everyone else. My breath trembled.

"How close were you?" Cecilia asked.

She truly didn't know. Well, she knew I'd seen him a few times and that he'd gotten me my sponsorship, but she didn't actually know what I thought of him, because, well, I'd never talked about him to her beyond the fight I'd witnessed between him and Jasmine—

Shit, Jasmine. I needed to message her, there was just so much going on. Melody, too.

Back to Cecilia's question, there was that, and cool fights Craig had been in that we sometimes nerded over.

"He was... we weren't close. I think he saw me as his sister's friend, so he was nice to me," I slowly said. "To me, he's— he was—" I didn't know what he'd been. Not a mentor, not a friend, but someone I looked up to? "Do you remember when we met him for the first time, near Snowpoint? With Savika?"

Cecilia smiled, fondly remembering the moment. "I do. He... he felt like someone who was larger than life, even when he'd been wounded."

"At some point, we were alone, the two of us, and," I shut my eyes tightly, desperate to cling to the memories of him, "I don't remember how the conversation started, but he spoke to me about how he struggled early in his career and stuff, even with a Bagon as his starter. I think he was just trying to make me feel better because we'd just made it out of Coronet as first years. To like, make me realize the scale of what we'd done. How competent we'd needed to be to survive."

Damn it, the tears were coming, now. Not many, but just, remembering this was tough, because it was important. Cecilia's finger gently wiped a tear from my cheek.

"Sorry, you don't need to—"

I interrupted her. "It's fine. I want to talk about it, and Cynthia's late anyway." The clock had struck 1:30, yet she still wasn't there. "He spoke to me about having reached the summit, but he was so hungry, still. For something more. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to touch the skies."

The entire reason I'd had this goal, the thing that had driven me, pushed me to become this good at battling. To keep training day in and day out.

It was all because I'd taken his dream for myself.

My girlfriend wrapped me in a tight hug, and I sniffled against her just as Cynthia walked onto the podium with her Togekiss. The last time I'd seen her, she had looked haggard and on her last legs, but it was as if she'd become a completely different person. It wasn't just about covering up her tiredness, but also the way she carried herself. She stood tall, her shoulders wide and with a somber, yet leading expression on her face. She adjusted the microphone to bring it closer to her mouth, then cleared her throat.

"Citizens of Sinnoh. Yesterday, on the 5th of May, countless bombs and Pokemon using Self-Destruct planted by Team Galactic wrecked havoc across our nation. This day is one that will live in infamy, and I join you in mourning our losses. Never since the Great War has Sinnoh suffered such an attack on its own soil, and for that, I must apologize. I failed to serve my duty as Champion and protect you before it was too late."

She allowed a beat to pass, though her eyes glanced away from the camera for a second. Something more astute people would catch and try to analyze.

"However," she began. "Thanks to Operation Rise, I am here to deliver what I hope to be the start of an upswing for our country. Team Galactic, as an organization, is over. Their leaders are dead or in prison, and as we speak, we are imprisoning the few grunts remaining holed up in Mount Coronet." Cynthia took another breath. "I've kept you in the dark regarding Team Galactic's true goals, but today, I can reveal them now that it is safe to do so."

"These terrorists were planning to awaken a Legendary to destroy our nation, and perhaps even the world." My heart sank. She really was giving them a lot, even if she was underplaying it. "That rift you saw at Mount Coronet's summit yesterday was the result of their nefarious plans, but thanks to the League's collective efforts, the rift was closed before the aforementioned Legendary could cause too much damage. It will not open up again."

I can't believe Giratina is going to be blamed again. Poor thing, Mesprit whined.

"But," another pause, "we also lost many good people to stop Team Galactic. Many League and ACE Trainers died or were wounded. As it stands, four-hundred and six League Trainers and twenty-three ACEs died climbing Mount Coronet. More died fighting Galactic all over the nation. That first number includes Craig Goodwill."

She went on to list his accolades as a trainer everyone should aspire to be, from his childhood, to the good he did as an adult. He'd led a momentous life, and she wanted to go over everything. Cecilia did note that she felt a little sad that his death would overshadow all others.

I didn't think that was what he would have wanted, either, but there was no other way. This is how the world worked, for better or for worse.

"Craig Goodwill sacrificed himself for the good of the nation and the world, and it isn't an exaggeration to say that without him here, we would have failed to stop Team Galactic. My heart goes to his family, to his friends, and the League will hold a special ceremony to celebrate his life at some point in the near future. He is what we should all aspire to be."

"Now, in terms of returning to normalcy, the government will ensure that we keep up good communication in the coming days. As it stands, however, the Conference will be delayed, meaning that Renewal Day on the first of June will not be held on the island as usual. Each Gym will most likely have a different reopening date..."

—

May 6th 20XX, 12:46AM (Unovan Time/UT) - Mount Vertress/Unovan League - Mark Obel

Deep within the heart of the Unovan League's fortified headquarters, tucked away behind layers of reinforced walls and guarded checkpoints, Mark Obel watched the end of Cynthia's speech with his Elite Four. The room itself was dominated by a large oval command table crafted from gleaming, brushed steel. At its center was a stylized braviary in a hunting position, Unova's national symbol. The table was lined with many cushioned office chairs that had been filled with League officials just a few hours prior. Embedded seamlessly into its surface were a myriad of touch-screen displays, each capable of projecting intricate maps, live feeds from ongoing operations, and real-time data streams from across the region, though these were off for now. A massive screen on which Cynthia spoke was fixed against the central wall.

This was the situation room. Where Mark and many League officials sometimes spent their entire days, should a situation warrant it. Wild Pokemon attacks (which were mostly done on Unova's vast farmland), the status of their troops in Ransei, monitoring the border with the Orrean wilds, where raiders often crossed into Unova to pillage, sneaking in with refugees who had braved the desert, or where Iris or Alder had been seen last. They had to track them. They were, after all, roaming weapons of mass destruction with no loyalty to the League.

They had all worked overtime out of fear that the rift above Mount Coronet would spell doom for the world. Even in Unova, an ocean away, panic had spread, as it always did when a Legendary was involved. Mark ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed.

"Worried, are you?" Grimsley poked with his typical, fiendish grin. The dark type master wore one of his robes again, this one white and draping so long it covered even his feet, with a long, darkened scarf around his neck that rolled down to his hip. He was sitting on the table with his legs crossed, content to tease his own superior. "About your sister, I mean."

"She was seen at the League. She's thankfully alive," Mark said. Rarely did he raise his tone, even when Grimsley got on his nerves. "But... something happened to her. She was clearly hurt."

At least he would have an opportunity to see her soon, even if his father would disapprove.

Grimsley barked out a laugh, sounding more like a Mightyena than a man. "Not like she'll tell you about it! 'Oh, brother, why did you stab me in the back to save the man who abused us?'" He slapped his knee.

So he was going to try to be humorous today, then. Mark would not underestimate him regardless. Shauntal and Caitlyn had both been rich with the resources of their powerful families behind them to help them get started in their journey, much like Mark had; Marshal had been taken under Alder's wing and been brought up that way, but Grimsley? He had come from nothing, yet had become one of the most powerful men in the country regardless. Mark knew that he liked to appear weak and foolish when he had the sharpest wits of the five. He treated his entire life like a battle.

"Give it a rest," Marshal said, his voice as deep as usual. The fighting type specialist sat in a chair too small to contain not only his towering height, but his physique. He was nearly spilling out of it. "I've had enough of your quips for the entire day."

Mark was careful to keep a mental note of that outburst, even if Mark agreed with him for once. Marshal had always been a maverick due to Alder having been his mentor in his youth. He and Mark still did not get along.

Grimsley clicked his tongue. "What, you don't like it when I joke about the world going up in flames? Bummer."

"I think we just don't like it when you open your mouth for anything not work related." Shauntal's voice was nearly a soft embrace to their ears. For once, she didn't have her head buried in her book, though she was writing down notes on what Cynthia was saying for her own uses. She preferred paper to digital, even for work. Her clothes were a drab of dark and purple coiling tightly against her. "Caitlyn agrees. Caitlyn!"

The last and youngest member of the Unovan Elite Four pushed her head off the table, though her eyes were still closed. Her golden hair was so long it was a blanket onto itself. "Let's keep things professional." Caitlyn smiled, looking at Mark.

Not really looking, but something akin to it. The truth was, she just wanted them to be less loud. It wasn't as if sleeping prevented her from absorbing information anyway, with how her Musharna had changed her. The psychic never left her side. Even now, it hung high above her, close to the ceiling.

"Thanks. Now that the speech is done." Mark looked at each and everyone of them individually. "We know some of it is a lie, and we know from the way she spoke and behaved herself near the tail-end there that what happened to her scarred her in some kind of way. The question is, how much of this was the truth."

"Ghost TE readings were off the charts in Sinnoh during the rift's opening. It seems clear to me that this is Dusk business," Shauntal said. "Would Team Galactic want to use Distortion for their own, twisted desires? I don't know."

"She'll call back and explain in further details," Marshal said. "We need a reset of relations anyway after that ordeal with your father. Strongarming them into releasing that criminal..." he sneered at Mark.

"Sinnoh's a bit of a backwater, but letting it fall into Lance's clutches was not ideal," Caitlyn hummed. She would know. She had grown up there after all. "A little bird told me that a diplomatic delegation is being sent this summer, where an alliance and closer cooperation will be the talk of the day."

And there was also the fact that a Johtoan Gym Leader was close to Volkner.

"I had no choice," Mark said. "The Conglomerate was getting antsy at one of theirs being captured and imprisoned."

And to think that just a few years ago, Unova-Sinnoh relations had been at their highest. What an unmitigated disaster. Galar-Unovan relations were still tightly-knit, but other than that... they were a nation on the road to further isolation. A far cry from how it used to be after the war, where they'd risen as the world's foremost power possessing a hand in every pie.

Their meeting was adjourned a few minutes after Cynthia's speech. The Elite Four still had a Conference to plan and a population to calm. Compared to the boisterous Alder, Mark was not a public Champion. In fact, he was certain that his Elite Four, having predated him, had a better connection to the people than he did.

But he had a job to do.

It was time to meet with the suits and tell them about all of this, and then he would need to call his father directly. The Opelucid Group, X Tech, Avalon, Crescent Global and the Obel Energy Company all had representatives posted at Vertress at all times. Marshal huffed when he walked past Mark, side-eyeing him in the process.

He could hate Mark all he wanted. He knew how difficult it was to keep the seat of Champion, how precarious the position was to keep. Mark too, knew that there was a problem with the amount of power these companies had amassed, but they were sorely needed to support the Unovan economy. Without them, it would all collapse. He wanted the states to gain its authority back, but change was best made through incremental steps.

And each of them could have the nation tumble toward oblivion. His plan was measured in decades.

Now wasn't the time to rock the boat, especially with the drummings of the Plasma Organization growing louder and louder, with calls among the Conglomerate to ban the party outright for its very large and vocal extremist wing. Ghetsis was screaming about the 'sanctity of democracy' he suddenly cared about and how he would leave Parliament if that came to pass to join Plasma as a 'humble follower'.

Mark closed the door behind him, his hands hovering over his seven Pokeballs.

Bad times were on the horizon. He could feel it in his gut.

A/N: That's it. That's the end of the arc.

Feels a little surreal being here, but I am. Galactic's over, and now it's on to the end of the year and the recovery process. I'll be taking a two week break after this because I've been dealing with some wrist pain, and I also need to talk about some scheduling changes. Before this arc began, I used to upload a chapter a day (though I sometimes missed the mark). I have come to realize that I think my writing has gotten a lot better now that I have more time to work on chapters, so I'll compromise. When I'm back from my break, I will be uploading two chapters a week, one on Wednesday, and one on Sunday. If it's a big, important chapter (for example, like this one), or multiple of those in a row, I'll go down to one a week (Sundays). Thank you all for understanding, I hope you don't mind too much.

Back to the story, there is still a lot to cover about the fallout that I couldn't go into this chapter. Louis, Emilia and Pauline, for one, will get more attention soon, as will Lauren. And hey, you also got your first look at Mark Obel and the Unovan Elite Four. There's still a lot of Sinnoh to cover beyond just the Conference, believe it or not, so Unova will have to wait. As always, thank you for reading. I'll see you all on July 3rd.