[attr="class","spiral"]On the outside, Fernando finds comfort. The warmth of another, living, body brings his skin to a crawl. He needs to feel her. His face against her bosom, hand around her waist. Silph clings because she pulls her in with her gravity.

But that’s only on the outside.

The DREAMEATER fiends with an insidious hunger. The NIGHTMARES she bestows him brings the harshest but most probable reality. They look comedic, from the surface, but their outlandish nature only reflects his perspective. They are hyperbolic because Fernando cannot handle the nuance and minute details that encompass his every day.

It’s unbecoming.





A peek into his dream world reveals him back in Slateport. The same Ultra Beast priam conrad has is looming over the horizon, dwarfing even the largest building. The Guzzlord shovels whole establishments into its mouth, indiscriminate in what it eats. The scale matches what they documented from Mossdeep even if they’ve never encountered anything similar thereafter.

“Initiate defensive maneuvers,” he shouts into his cellphone. “Get the League on the line. If we don’t contain this breach it could mean the end of Slateport.”

“Sir, the League says… they can’t do anything. They don’t trust you. Also, they’re engaged in a skirmish with Team Rocket.”

“Fucking incompetence!”

Utter frustration pulses through his arms. Green veins rise to the surface, bringing down the small device with all the force he can muster. His phone shatters to pieces, replaced with a Pokeball as Fernando resorts to doing what he does best: cleaning up the mess no one else can be assed to do.

“Tapu Fini!”

Fernando turns around to face his Legendary summon. What he finds however is the Pokemon being bound by several others. From the shadows come several individuals, all faceless, except for SILAS BLACKWELL.

“I don’t have time for this right now!” His scream is as exasperated as the people being trampled behind him. Their crying echoes within his head, each one more pitiful than the last, one last release before they’re swallowed whole by the Guzzlord.

“If we don’t stop this—”

A HYPER BEAM blitz right past him from behind. The attack vaporizes anything in its way. Buildings, people, any form of matter, organic or not, is gone. Several of the Team Rocket members that were before him cease to exist.

“Okay, but fuck the League!” The remainder declare in unison. Each of them go on to explain their reason. Monologues about pain and their tragic backstory drown out everything else.

“Fuck!”

He can’t free Tapu Fini in time. So he forgets it. A pivot of his heel brings him back to face the Pokemon several blocks away. A rhythmic tap of his Pokeballs releases every secret weapon he has:

Zygarde, Urshifu, Heatran, Zerora, Shaymin.

Even some he doesn’t have come into play. Moltres, Articuno, Tapu Bulu and Lele. Anything he can reason that he’ll acquire with time come full force to defend against the Ultra Beast threat.

But none prove enough. A Celesteela large enough to rival Mount Pyre hurtle through the sky. Forget the meteor. It’s impact when it lands head first is enough to blot out the world in a sea of white.





Fernando’s grip tightens. Perfectly manicured fingers put pressure on whatever flesh he can grab. Not enough to hurt, not enough to bleed or tear, but enough to become uncomfortable.

[attr="class","spiral"]He dies. The world ends. And the cycle continues.

In any other circumstance, this would have awaken him. A dream brought to its conclusion, no matter how unsatisfying, ends with opens eyes and an accelerated heartbeat. But as sure as the affections that drape her predatory instinct, Fernando is forced into a downward spiral.





‘KYOGRE HAS AWAKENED. ALL CIVILIANS ARE ADVISED TO SEEK THEIR LOCAL SHELTER.’

An emergency broadcast plays on every monitor in Silph Co. Technicians and scientist alike rush to their stations. Their goal is simple: find a way, any way, to reverse Kyogre’s influence.

Fernando takes the helm in his office. His phone and computer buzz non-stop, only silenced when he picks up just to shout a variety of orders in regards to dispatching various teams.

‘BREAKING NEWS, THE LEAGUE HAS SENT THE AQUA INITIATIVE TO CONTAIN KYOGRE.’

It’s the only time Fernando breaks away from his task to watch the scene unfold. The television captures several Gym Leaders and notable people from a distance. He can barely make out their details but their signature Pokemon tells him all he needs to know.

The camera angel zooms in to the point that audio comes in clearly. It shouldn't, given the heavy downpour, but dreams don’t have to make sense.

“Kyogre, can you just go away?”

“Please, we don’t want to hurt you.”

“I do not consent to these rising sea levels!”

Fernando can sparely believe his ears before the feed dies. To no surprise, the Kyogre continues its rampage, uncontested. Eastern Hoenn is wiped off the map. Mossdeep and Sootoplis become the new Atlantis.





Groudon is no where to be seen. A call with dahlia goode cites the divided up Primal fragments as the cause for its disappearance. She’s already conducted a thorough search into their whereabouts; various individuals have kept these pieces for themselves despite not knowing what they do.

Flabbergasted, Fernando confronts her about allowing this to continue. And, to no satisfaction, she states her hands are tied. The owners refuse to give them up and acquiring them by force would have been illegal.





‘OUR CHAMPION, kyle lopez, HAS AWAKENED RAYQUAZA!’

Days have passed and Fernando watches the television from Mauville. Half of Slateport has been submerged due to the extreme weather. Relocation isn’t much of a choice.

The fight lasts for hours. Attacks are exchanged and both Legendaries take up the spotlight the footage plays live. It ends when both Pokemon depart into their respective slumbers, ending with Kyle reciting his victory speech.

“I would have stepped in earlier but it’s a real bother. I couldn’t be assed to step out in the rain.”





But that is only the start of their issues. Kyogre may have left but the ramifications of its actions do not dissipate with its wrath. The rising sea levels have encroached on hospitable land.

Farmable lands are gone. Habitats destroyed. The ever lasting effects on the ecosystem are irreversible. And it’s not just contained to Hoenn. A global rise in sea levels affects the world and the disaster that comes with it is not something he can let go.

So Fernando works tirelessly, putting every hand on deck to find a way to cope and work around such developments. Silph Co. goes into overdrive. People sweat, bleed, and die due to exhaustion. It feels like forever.

The span of a few minutes lasts a literal lifetime.

And when he seeks help? When he expects accountability?

“Look, we scared Kyogre away, isn’t that enough?”

“What do you want us to do? You’re such an asshole! Stop being so uptight.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Sure forty different types of Pokemon may have gone extinct, only a quarter of Hoenn exists, and drinkable water is now a luxury, but now I don’t have to roll water Premium Gachas anymore.”





“We—”

“Humanity—”

A heavy cough wracks through his body as Fernando lies on his deathbed.

“The world cannot rely on an individual to maintain balance. Should they fail, the scales will tip. That happened the Groudon and we still suffer the consequences today.”

Wrinkled hands reach out for a faceless silhouette.

“You can do it. I believe in you. I always have Ab—”





And the world resets once again.

[attr="class","spiral"]When he comes to, the world is no longer one he knows.

His personal space extends to the room he’s in. It’s reach matches a small sprint away in distance, encircling him as the epicenter.

Everything beyond his perimeter in unmoving. Still. Eternal.

People are frozen within the frame of an action. Several flying Pokemon reside above, unaffected by gravity. It’s as it time itself stopped.

“…”

Fernando’s eyes narrow as he tries to put one and one together.

“There he is!”

When he turns, they appear from nothing, droves of them, all squished within his terrain. Some of them have faces, some of them recognizable, all donned in black with an iconic red ‘R’ sewn onto their chest.

“What.” Fernando’s tone is sharp with a lack of patience. It’s as if he expects an explanation.

“Very impressive, Silph. When we killed Dialga, time itself came to an end. Somehow, you found a way around it. We’re here to put an end to that.”

“Why?”

“Hmph! You—you wouldn’t understand. Do you know how much the League has taken from us?”

“Yeah! Tell him! That rich asshole couldn’t possibly understand our plight!”

Fernando reaches for a Pokeball. “So you destroyed time as we know it? That affects you as well.”

“Just desserts for the League not helping us out when we needed help the most.”

“Do you know how many people were displaced when Rocket invaded Slateport? Do you know how many of us lost our families and our homes?”

“So you joined the people who killed them?”

“Because the League didn’t do shit! All you did was fight back and cause them to disband. Do you know how miserable we were living in the slums? In the shitholes of tents from all of us who had no where else to go?”

The most logical decision is to bring out his Pokemon and beat each one into submission. But, through a lack of control, from the unraveling of his psyche, Fernando entertains the bit. It’s his minds way of unwinding, of digesting his inner turmoil.

“There are Pokemon Centers for that. That’s exactly why we’ve expanded disaster relief.” His voice rises with irritation.

“Fuck that! We don't need the League's charity.”

“Unlike you, Team Rocket actually looks out for us. They pay us with the money they’ve looted from our homes and the corpses of our loved ones.”

One, despite being faceless, showcases a plethora of body language that shows how awkward the back and forth has become. For no reason other than to excuse his existence, he chimes in. “It’s like my third day on the job. I’m just here to make sure Hoenn is as shitty as Galar is. Queen’s orders.”

But the stray grunts inclusion is enough to set off a chain reaction. Like Durants, they all chime in, each one drowning out the other as they swarm him with nonsensical reasons.

“I didn’t have a choice! Team Rocket will kill me others.”

“You’ve said too much,” one rebuts, stabbing the former in the chest.

“The League wouldn’t let me build a resort that was also a Gym from funds that didn’t belong to me.”

“Have you seen how many times the League has fucked up? How can I trust them to protect it? Only by destroying it can we be sure the League won’t fuck that up too.”

“No one will trade me a Porygon or Rotom or Smeargle.”

“When you disbanded Team Rocket I had nothing left. What did you want me to do? Grow up, get a job, and live my life?”

“Battle routine set.” He’s heard enough. He tosses an unfamiliar purple Pokeball that releases a form of miasma that conforms to a shape no one will recognize.

In turn, the Rocket grunts each pull out some type of firearm. They all unload their bullets, each one coincidentally missing Fernando despite their numbers.

“Execute.”

He blinks and they’re gone. Whatever he’s summoned has dispatched them back into the ether. What’s left is him and the mass or black vapor.

“There’s only one way to correct this.”

He pulls up the sleeve to his arm, revealing a scar that Lulu will recognize on his person. “I entrust the future onto you.”

The mass wraps around his arm, devouring it until only his shoulder remains. Blood pours out but the pain is non-existent. Fernando does not weep or scream. He merely accepts his fate, closing his eyes as the world goes white once more.

[attr="class","spiral"]I love you.

Easy to say. Harder to mean. Impossible to believe.

The words come out almost too quickly. Fernando can’t believe her. Because that would mean that his impact on her is lasting. To have her mean it would spell out how far this has spiraled out of control.

He had reshaped her past as an out. An amendment made to coerce her into the correct decision. Last time she had escalated it until they were at wits end. Here, underneath him, eating at his own vanity, she devours again.

“Prove it.”

She can’t because he is not fit for her love. The only person he can belong to has already expired. Hands alongside his guilt, from her neck to her chest, spreading to her shoulders, until they crawl up her arms to bind her hands in his own.

“Harder.”



The bed creaks under his demand. The headboard shifts uncomfortably, rattling against the wall in rhythmic wails.

“I love you,” he lies straight to her face, desperate for her reaffirmation, for some sense of validation.

I love you Elysia.

“Lulu!”

Her own influence is a pollution on his soul. It won’t last as long as his but the damage is permanent. He cannot recant words he knowingly says.

All he can do is live up to the mantra.

[attr="class","spiral"]“…”

Fernando says nothing. His mind awakens but his body remains still. Eyes open only to realize the seething pain that scores across his body.

Stings and sores resonate from red welts crafted over his backside. They tell a story of her adventures. Broken skin means her nails dug just deep enough. Where they transition to scabs means he put just enough pressure to make her jerk.

His hips give out when he attempt to roll over. So he lays there.

Until he hears her ‘good morning’.

An apology for what? He’s not sure. But that’s enough of an answer to spur him to action.

His memories are fuzzy but one crucial details permeates at the front of all thoughts.

I love you.

Does she? Can she?

He has no idea. But if she’s going to swear by him then she’ll have to love him for all that he is.

And here, in the privacy of their intimacy, he is unsatable.

Her tattoos are a coloring book meant for his lips. He stays within the lines, painting her in empty affections.