research testing megalopolan armor material

she turned the light silver chestplate over in her hand to its convex side and held it with some pressure against a desk, alit by an overhead lamp in the dark which couldn’t have been great for the eyes.

an angle grinder with an industrial-sized yellow cord (which her houndoom had already fallen asleep over) screeched as it came to life in her hand. she tugged at it, finding it was also wrapped around her chair, and huffed.

eventually getting everything in order, she went in. sparks flew, a camera off to the side catching their distance and volume. the houndoom awoke with a start, gave a garbled, grumpy sound and left for the other room.

nightmare the dark hall: a light in the dark

everything is black, yet you know, somehow, that you are walking through a massive hall. it has a ceiling as high as a skyscraper. its walls, however, you can feel on both sides with your arms stretched out. despite this, there’s a disorienting, heavy feeling of agoraphobia that hangs with you.

the hall is oppressively dark. it is so dark, in fact, that you can't see your hands even an inch from your face--or at least, where you assume your face to be. you walk forward, taking your first few steps through what sounds like shallow, still water, just barely covering the floor. a man screams in the distance, and whatever it is sloshing beneath your feet begins to glow.

you realize something startling in the light: you can't see your hands, because they don't exist.

you don’t exist.

a bright flash appears, seeming both close enough to touch and simultaneously miles away. it explodes outward, and reality seems to peel away from it like the rubber of a popping balloon.

she awoke gasping for air. her houndoom raised its head off of her leg as she jolted, looking concerned. he pushed himself up the bed to lick her face, and she wrapped her arms around him.

“thank you.” the words were breathed heavily into the hound’s chest.

nightmare the infinity pool: unknown volumes

there is a rush of senses.

you’re f l o a t i n g .

you taste salt, and feel sand on your face as you rise from the bottom of the ocean.

the light from which you came still glows behind you, revealing that there is nothing else accompanying you in the water’s depths—not anywhere.

you fear you might drown, but your ascension increases in speed. you go faster, faster, until you’re careening like a missile, and you eventually burst from the water with a great breath.

the view at the surface is not what you expect, whatever that may be.

lightning rips through a deep purple sky, as you look down over a cove from a shallow infinity pool. you’re at a party. someone places the stem of a cocktail between your fingers, and you look up to find that the person who has handed it to you, startlingly, does not have a face.

she awoke in a sweat, shivering. a sound of frustration escaped her as she clawed her way out from under the legs of her sleeping houndoom. she grabbed the bottle from her nightstand before maneuvering to the other side of the bed and pushing herself into a ball against the headboard, wrapping an arm around her knees. her amber eyes glared at the sunlight that invaded around the edges of blackout curtains.

and then met eyes with the lunatone, which hovered in a corner, staring back through the dark. its eyes bore into her. she took a large swig from the bottle.

nightmare the frozen pass: to leave a cold world

the world around you is bright and frigid. something wet falls on your freezing nose.

you find yourself climbing up jutting ice and snow, over a jagged, prismatic chasm. the air seems to breathe itself, having a sort of strange volume that allows you to see its movement with an opalescent sheen. you notice disturbances in it around you, lending a clue to things hovering nearby that you can't see otherwise.

you near the end of the path you have chosen. you're not sure how you got here, but this dream is not about the journey. it's about the consequence.

as you arrive, you walk to the end of the world, looking over the edge, and see an eye looking back at you from the sparkling abyss.

you become entranced as it draws nearer, nearer, and you soon realize that it is massive. your skin gets hotter and hotter, until eventually, you begin to singe.

the eye's approach is torturously slow, but you find that you cannot turn away.

it doesn’t end for you immediately, although you with it would. your nails melt into your frostbitten fingers. the pain increases exponentially, until the charring skin of your face finally peels off the bone of your screaming jaw, and your vision goes red.

the screaming continued out of her as her amber eyes shot open to take in the sight of her lunatone, hovering directly over her a mere foot from her face.

alerted, her houndoom shot up from the foot of the bed, a growl ripping from his chest before he lunged to attack.

hallucination a trip into the magic room

she sat across from the lunatone in a chair. it was fairly dark, but still early in the evening. she was stone-cold sober. their stares seem to dig deeper and deeper into one another.

it had only been a couple of weeks since she had acquired the lunatone. it had taken up solrock’s duties as a sort of mental comfort during her work nights, its powers seemingly more in tune when the moon was out.

even as she had switched and seemed to subsequently suffer unusual dreams by its presence (even for her) she could not bring herself to replace it with her solrock again. despite the pain it was causing her, she was becoming addicted to whatever it was happening inside of her brain.

“MAGIC ROOM.”

her bedroom began to warp, lines wrapping around it as her surroundings changed. a gridded world appeared, moving like waves. she adjusted to it. “CONFUSION.” her ears began to ring, vision transforming.

dream rinc pt. 1

they sat at a round table in the dingy kitchen of the house in motostoke.

“i see that ace, fi.”

“rinc, stop.” she laughed heartily, curling into the table on her forearms with drama and turning her cards in towards her chest to protect her hand.

“you’re real bad about that.”

“shutup, you're not supposed to look.”

“it’s pretty cute.”

she stared into baby blues, caught off guard. he leaned in, revealing all of his cards to her on the table and brushing lips to hers. someone coughed several times and then whistled, laughing. “oh shit.”

a tattooed hand came up to brush her chin lovingly while the other came up at the living room with a middle finger. her breath hitched.

lulu choked awake and stared at the ceiling for a good long while before rolling out of bed, expressionless. a thousand yard stare pierced through every pokemon and object she passed in the apartment, until she reached a kitchen junk drawer and retrieved a deck of bicycle cards. shuffling them expertly, she set up her morning game of solitaire.

eventually, a tear ran down a six in her hand. she sniffed, placing it beneath a seven. another tear fell, followed by another.

her fingers curled around the edge of the counter and she held herself up on outstretched arms for a long moment, breath ragged before she turned and slid down the cabinets onto the floor, tucking her head into her knees.

“no no no no no...” she sobbed into her legs, eventually rolling onto her side in a ball onto the tile floor and squeezing her leaking eyes shut, willing reality to fade. her houndoom came to lick her face and curl up next to her.

flashback day of arrest

they sat at a round table in the dingy kitchen of the house in motostoke.

*cchhh* ‘yo, we have a pr—shut u *chhh* i’m on the pho-god damn you—’ there was the sound of a quick struggle, frantic fumbling. the phone hit the floor for a moment.

‘fi—… fuck, we have a problem.’

“well, what the hell is it then!?”

‘the shipment never came. it’s a trap. we—ah!’

she set the phone down, erupting commotion distorting over the small speaker. her hand reached and grabbed at a landline in front of her and addressed a man on hold.

“why aren’t the fuckin’ guns there?”

‘what do you mean? did you lose them?’ there was cold laughter on the other line from several people. something was definitely off.

“yeh, right. i lost them. listen, you have no idea who you’re messing with.”

‘don’t i?’

there was a switch on the other line, and a familiar voice spoke over the phone.

‘he-he wants me to tell you… that the deal is his now…’

the voice then got quieter, muffled.

‘n-no, please—’

“dag? dag!”

‘how fast can you run, miss mccoy?’

there was a gunshot, and then sound of the phone being set on the desk, left as the associate on the other line simply walked away.

“fuck! i’ll kill you! you hear me, you fuckin’ bastard? i’ll find you and i’ll fucking—”

the sound of an explosion then sounded through the speaker. she jerked the phone away from her ear as it rang, and when she pulled it back, there was merely a dialtone.

she screamed, slamming the phone several times and then throwing her keyboard across the room in a violent rage.

mere seconds later, there was a bang as the door busted open, and a dozen red lights hit her back. she threw her hands up.

she felt her scalp sting and the soreness of her face being slammed against the wall by three officers, two holding each arm and one quickly frisking before her hands were forced behind her back uncomfortably. she felt the metal slide, heard it click too tight, felt it chafe as she strained the slightest bit. a wandering hand warranted a spit in someone’s eye which received an elbow to the face. a rough grab of the shoulder and a wordless shove made her choke in her chest.

through the pain, she felt nothing. it was like an out of body experience.

it was game over.

‘this just in, twenty-two-year-old circhester woman saoirse quinn, reported missing by her family nearly four years ago, found and detained by the gia yesterday evening in motostoke, after an anonymous tip was given to authorities regarding an illegal weapons deal. the deal allegedly included hundreds of banned automatic machine guns, ammunition, and even several manufactured bombs to a terrorist group based in war-stricken kanto. quinn was arrested with several others when authorities raided an office building in motostoke last night, where the operations were suspected to have been held.

quinn currently faces charges of cybercrime, fraud, possession of illegal firearms, resisting arrest, and the assault of an officer. authorities have said they expect quinn to potentially face more severe charges, including the production and distribution of illegal weapons. there is also suspicion that quinn may have been involved in a recent cyber security breach of the galarian military, although officials have declined to comment further. quinn is currently being held under high security awaiting trial.’

‘what a crazy story, ingrid. and you know, of course this has been all over social media. people are concerned that, given the quinn family's status and ties to the throne, the court might actually go easy on quinn—’

‘well, not an unfounded concern, is it?’

‘no, no, unfortunately not. what's more is that quinn's lawyer has insisted to the press that many of these charges are unfounded, and that he has high hopes for the trial.’

‘yes, well, i’m sure we’ll be following this story. more on that later. moving on to something a little lighter, forty-five-year-old wedgehurst man thomas shoe caught his zoroark sleeping with his baby togepi! the video has gone viral on social media and, haha, oh donnie just look at ‘em. so cute, ugh…’

at home contemplating problems of the present

she looked out over mossdeep, the newly named djall’s head lying in her lap while they rested on a large, fashionable couch. the fingers of one hand ran over the fur between his curling horns, while the other idly felt the soft skin near his toes on a massive paw which hung over her leg.

he slept soundly, even growling occasionally in a dream, while the cratered city below bustled despite the stars. so many lights, excluding her own. all of hers were off, like she preferred when she was alone--part of the reason her eyesight was so terrible. she typically worked by small overhead light, or moonlight. additionally, the light of technology reflected off of smog back through floor-to-ceiling windows rather beautifully.

that night, she didn’t work at all. for hours, she sat there, in utter silence. meditating.

tomorrow, she would confront councilman FERNANDO SILPH , who had seemingly discovered her identity. which one, exactly, she had not the slightest clue.

to get answers, she would take a trip through hell.

nightmare the dark hall: river of blood

she’d never felt like herself in her dreams. she tended to be as nondescript as anyone else in them.

it was rare to have interactions. no one ever spoke. sometimes, they didn’t even have faces. most of the time, she barely had a body. begun to disappear, even. she was like a ghost, in her own head. dreams were even lonelier than life.

but something had changed. for once, in this dream, she could look down to find her own corporeal form, and know, feel that it was hers. this place belonged to her. it was her creation.

and she was aware that she was in it, dreaming. lucid. this would be the first time.

it smelled like metal. rust.

it was dark, as it normally was. what was most odd was that her feet were bare. she felt the cold of something liquid, sitting at a level just high enough to create the smallest splashing sound with each falling step. though she was familiar with this element, she had never felt it on her skin. it was sort of thick, and sticky.

she could bend down at will, and touch it with a finger. taste it on her tongue. spit it out violently, only to find more coming up from her own core.

blood.

there was a sound of rushing water, out of nowhere. through the pitch black, red rapids were building down an invisible hallway, curving and bending around corners and gaining force—right in her direction.

instead of remaining frozen, where the dream might’ve ended on impact or drowning, she turned and began running. her legs carried her as fast as they could, but her feet were inexplicably like weights. it was as though something was holding her back. suddenly, she realized it was somewhat difficult to breathe. a hand came up to feel around her throat.

soon after, it became obvious by the sound of well-fitting tennis shoes that someone else was running behind her—someone faster, and gaining. his familiar body found and met her easily, and his face turned to her with a sick sort of expression which was indescribable in that abstract dream sort of way, but decidedly not right. his voice was impossibly unwavering, even midstride.

‘so, tell me, flint, what are you running from?’

before she could think to answer, FERNANDO SILPH ’s handsome, tired, uncomfortably smiling face began to deteriorate. it took on a pale, sickly green, before deepening and sagging and eventually tearing. maggots crawled, and the smell suddenly made her choke violently. a skull fell to the ground next to her, amongst many others which had not been there a moment before. she tripped over them—and straight back into reality.

air couldn't fill her lungs quick enough, gasping in decreasing volume several times before her breathing eventually slowed, and she found the skin of sabine calcifet once more.

the red eyes of her houndoom, lying at the foot of the large bed, never closed on her. they were untrusting slits, refusing to falter in their vigilance. it would rest when they were awake.

lulu had been sleep-walking recently.

nightmare fractured memories

her nightmares looked different, nowadays.

the typical settings had remained, most of the time, but darkrai’s power was ever-present. it always swirled around overhead like a million shadows in the sky—something which, in many dreams, had not previously existed. horrific screams whispered through the suspended pool of abyss, enveloping the scientist in a comfort which was bewildering at first.

lulu had found that her nightmares no longer frightened her. rather, she was a spectator in them. they were like movies. it was sort of like lucid dreaming, but not. she was self-aware, however, this was now darkrai’s world. she'd become more like a child at the legendary's puppet-show, tossing back popcorn while it took up her memories, bits from her day, mutilated, and restrung them all into the most fucked up thing it could muster. ta-da. marathons went on for much longer than normal, never fully allowing her body to get the rest it needed, when it could eventually manage to even fall asleep in the first place.

there never seemed to be much rhyme or reason. when lulu awoke, she was well aware that they were only ever dreams. however, usually extremely abstract, some had become strangely more realistic, lately.

she found herself in an apartment—albeit roof removed and purple nightmare hell sky swirling, but that was normal—sitting at a table across from FERNANDO SILPH . they feasted on one of the best meals she’d ever eaten, out of to-go containers. he knew she wasn’t a fan of going out. what made this a nightmare was the kecleon which sat between them. each time, a nice dinner ended with its tongue wrapped around her throat, gagging her until she died.

frankly, it was sort of boring. the fact that it seemed to be one of darkrai’s favorite re-runs baffled her. perhaps she just didn’t understand masterpieces.

“why do you keep showing me this one?”

so far, it was always silent in response.

at home asking the real questions

lulu sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed as she stared at darkrai: god of fear. the shadow’s prince, as underboss Chu-e Choi had referred to it earlier that day.

it levitated across from her, eyes full of ice and mystery.

“…”

“…”

“… do you like begonias?” her nose wrinkled.

“…”

at home getting revenge

a man in his boxers awoke on a roof, facing a beach in the thick of night. the temperature was jarringly warm. it was humid. it did not feel like galar.

“hello ellio.”

he couldn’t respond. his mouth was taped shut.

“how did you sleep? you’ve been out for a while.”

he blinked up at her, startled, disoriented. confusion ran garbled against sealed lips.

“you don’t recognize me.”

she crouched down at his level, where he sat propped on his heels. her amber eyes bore into his, searching for a long moment. waiting. still, she found no look of recognition. she glowered. “i have always thought you to be unfathomably stupid.” a huff of a sigh left her at a fresh dent in her ego.

“my name is saiorse quinn. you killed the only person i've ever loved.”

she hung less than a foot from his face, balancing on the balls of her feet in a swirling pool of darkness.

“so now, i’m going to pry open your mind like a can of tuna and conjure your deepest fears, and make you scream until your soul falls out of your flat ass and you cry for your mum. and when you can’t cry anymore, i’m going to bash your mouth-breathing face in, ellio.” the corner of her mouth curled. “then i’m going to feed you to my dog.”

research a first look at shadow alakazam

“you won’t obey. you’ve made that clear to me. i almost died because of you. i should throw you in a machine. make you a real test subject or get some use out of you, finally.”

there was silence, still, on the other end, as the shadow alakazam lied, asleep on a long table. patches were stuck around its head.

she believed it could hear her, even in its slumber.

“you’re strong. i wonder if your mind is also more powerful than the rest...”