PACKAGE FOR POG

THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

EVERY STROKE OF HIS PEN marks down the details of their encounter. Their stories paint a clear picture: stunning similarities nuanced with several defining features that highlight the contrast between the MYSTERIOUS and UNUSUAL charm.

However, should Mars show the paper to anyone else outside of the three, he’ll find their stare perplexed. Once their meeting concludes and his memory is put to rest, his vision will show what the rest of the world sees.

Nonsensical, yes, but there’s a deeper clue behind these words. A good pair of reading glasses reveals the TRUTH.

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Eris Halla Locke Jamison Martín del Mar

PACKAGE FOR POG

THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

EMPLOYED PSYCHIC POWERS look to intervene. the charm holders attempt to pry open their destiny well before their due. and, for a moment, it seems to work.

the coils of their PSYCHIC TERRAIN empowers their efforts. a glimpse into the future crosses between locke’s orbeetle and mars’ musharna. a scene is set…

a billboard in lilycove flashes an interrupted broadcast. ‘breaking news’ scrolls underneath the HNN anchor. it reads:

galar in shambles; what is the darkest day?

uh oh sisters.

this thread is now DEATH ENABLED.

the vision starts to fizzle. the pokemon’s FUTURE SIGHT fluctuates as a toll is exacted. a migraine passes between the TELEPATHIC. blood streams from their eyes and nose. pressure mounts from within and should they push forward they will only invite an escalation.

the above affects those who have used FUTURE SIGHT and those sharing / being shared visions via TELEPATHY.

but, the the orbeetle and musharna can push further. at what cost? they’re unaware.

is the danger worth it?

Eris Halla Locke Jamison Martín del Mar

PACKAGE FOR POG

THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

SHOULD THEY STOP this right here and right now? the answer become glaringly obvious as the strain starts to wreck havoc inside their heads. veins pop, blood pools, and their head swells into disfiguring lumps in several places.

the LIFE DEW that splashes onto them helps alleviate the pain at first but that relief is short lived. the longer they force the vision the less effective the move becomes. in moments, it’s nothing more than stale water intermingling with snot ropes of blood.

even the HEAL PULSE is deemed ineffective as it patches their wound. skin and cells are sewn back together only for their owners to rip them right back open. their self harm can be patched up but the pain has no recourse. like a bottle shaken frantically, pressure mounts.

play stupid games, win stupid prizes.




sparks of PROBABILITY crackle as they force the FUTURE SIGHT to reveal a possible scenario out of a million possibilities. CASUALITY lashes out in vengeance, an invisible force breaking down the room. cracks splinter the walls. light bulbs shatter. the DREAM MIST is dispelled as they force an endless amount of FATES to fall in line with a SINGLE DESTINY.

the sound of rushing water echoes in the background. the smell is damp. musky. the area is dark but a voice calls out. who it comes from is impossible to make out from within the darkness.

“w-who are you? are you a friend of—”

pop.

a body falls to the floor. chunks of brain matter clog its spout.

Martín del Mar’ MUSHARNA HAS DIED.

fluorescent lights flicker on and off. sirens ring. the sound of metal floors clanging in unison echo as several dozen footsteps march away. only the last one can be perceived.

a head full of purple hair disappears around the corner.

pop.

a soft thud pangs against the carpet. the eyes of the noibat roll back until their squished jellies of yellow goo.

Eris Halla NOIBAT HAS DIED.

“once you do this, you can never go back.”

a scream reverberates within a soundproof room. it goes on until the croon of a laser drowns out his screams.

pop.

the sound of someone slumping over weasels out from under the constant hiss of the PROBABILITY STORM. it has long stopped breathing.

Martín del Mar’ MUSHARNA HAS DIED.

this time the scene is vivid. those who’ve kept up with recent events will recognize the TREE OF LIFE. they’re all present—whether they’re there as spectators of the vision or there at the time of the event, is uncertain.

a murky, large figure floats in front of the tree. whoever or whatever it is has a strange hold on a large black bird. it’s the same one from the SOOTOPOLIS RIOTS.

it drags the yveltal down into the ground and smashes its head repeatedly until the pokemon goes limp. the legendary pokemon remains there. motionless.

the figure turns its attention to the three of them. it stares for a moment before lunging straight at them. a eighteen wheeler sized appendage reaches out for them but is obstructed by a shimmering red barrier. it starts to screech as the barrier buckles underneath the pressure.

a wizz of blue cuts between the three of them. it’s none other than azelf. PROBABILITY sparks flutter from its body as it hold the shield in place.

they remain there. standing. unable to move as the scenery fades back into reality.

splat.

the LIFE DEW and HEAL PULSE continues to heal every rip and tear that happens from the force of their FUTURE SIGHT. as the building force of this sensation is kept under wraps by flesh and bone, eventually it becomes too much. like a balloon, the expansion builds up until it all comes out at once.

bug juice coats the room. their eyes and face. and everywhere it can reach as the pokemon explodes from the exertions.

they should consider themselves lucky that they do not face the same fate.

Locke Jamison’s ORBEETLE HAS DIED.

the trainers are spared due to their pokemon dying before the feedback can do the same to them. should they visit a doctor and conduct a thorough examination, they will find small bubbles within their brains. it’s alarming but harmless at the moment. however, their practitioner pleads with them to avoid stressful situations that could lead to such a situation.

the slightest trigger could prove FATAL.

Eris Halla Locke Jamison Martín del Mar