Mage's Pokemon told him that the spirits had torn a hole in the sky.

He whistled as he saw the pink-purple mist bleeding out of a gash in the clouds, pouring out onto Mount Chimney. This was the sort of stuff he'd heard would happen if he didn't ascend to the post of medium. But those monks were wrong - were they?

Things were becoming so unhinged Mage wasn't sure anymore.

But still, Mage felt himself pulled forward like something in the fog was dragging him along by a fishing rod. A pulse throbbed in the air, worming into his heart, where it lodged like siren song. Tim, his Gastly, faded in and out of view, enshrouding Mage in his own mist so that he could anchor him to this world.

Mage sniffed. The air smell like herbs and incense. It smelled familiar.

And then, a crunch on the gravel behind him. Mage spun about ponderously to see a man with skin and hair so white he might have crawled out of the abyss himself.

"What do you smell?" Mage asked. He looked intrigued and concerned.

oscar clayton

Oscar had procrastinated heading into the mist. He was not sure what to expect, but if Lulu's research notes were accurate (which they always were) the Interdream mist was nothing to take lightly. With the possibility of auditory and visual hallucinations created from your own imagination, a trip through the mist could turn dicey very quickly. Luckily Oscar was pretty grounded--he uh just had to do some breathing exercises. That's all!

Lulu's Porygon Z was not nearly as reluctant, in fact it began floating toward the mist cloud without hesitation. Oscar choked on one of his inhalations as he caught the program wandering off. "Yo, stay close! Don't just fuckin' float off!" Oscar had no choice but to run after the eager pokemon, forcing him at last to dive into the mist head-on.

Oscar caught up to the digital imp pretty quickly, as it had started using its z-move: dreamweaver to begin converting the mist into data. Oscar watched as it digitized the dreamy haze, absorbing pink pixels into its body. He raised an eyebrow, having not expected the process to look so--easy. Oscar was content to stand around while the porygon z did its thing, but his attention would soon be taken by a voice behind him.

Oscar whirled around, raising his hands in a protective stance. His eyes landed on a young man with piercing eyes. His gaze was unnerving, and yet they put Oscar at ease. He slowly put his hands down, giving the man a cautious leer. Did he asked what he smelled? Oscar folded his arms, "Do you usually greet people like that? Fuckin' weird opener."

Though not that he mentioned it, Oscar was picking up a familiar aroma. He turned his nose to the air and took a deep breath, nearly gagging as the scent solidified. It was ozone, the smell of scorched air that occurred after Oscar's horrific 'Pokepod' experiments. There was another scent hiding under it. Was that--ah yes, that would be the smell left behind when he disintegrated a pokemon to extract its infinity energy. It was akin to burnt roadkill. Unwilling to share these details, Oscar gave the man an unassuming look and decided to lie.

"I smell fresh charcoal, must be getting a draft from Mt. Chimney."

Mage Maddox

Mage didn't believe the man. 

Back when Mage clawed his way out of the cocoon of lies that the monks had woven around him, he had encountered all kinds of liars. The kind who spoke words like molasses, making you want to believe them; the kind who, chillingly, believed the lies themselves. 

This white haired man was neither of them. 

He had something to hide. Why else would he need to explain where the smoke was blowing in from? 

Catlike, Mage's eyes flickered. 

Before he could say anything, Mage heard a familiar sound, one that drummed right into the root of his soul and wiped off the teasing smirk that had begun forming on his face.

Like a cat fleeing from fire, Mage dragged the man by his sleeve and hid behind a jagged rocky protrusion. His eyes were wide with a memory rising from a watery grave. 

Soft and padlike. The sounds of the monks' ceremonial shoes on temple wood. Growing louder and closer. 

Mage brought a trembling ringed finger to his lips. 

oscar clayton

Oscar's eyes flared as the stranger grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him behind a rock. This fucker was lucky that Oscar weighed less than a balloon, otherwise he would be in for a trouncing! As Oscar was pulled to his knees, he angrily leered at the assertive man.

"The fuck are you--" Oscar was cut off as the man held a finger to his lips, the universal request to shut the fuck up. Oscar furrowed his brows, still angry but willing to see what was going down. He carefully peeked over the rock formation, curious about what the man saw that Oscar did not.

At first all he saw was Porygon z, obliviously absorbing as much Interdream Data as possible. Or perhaps it was aware and just did not care about the incoming danger. Said danger finally showed itself, and what Oscar saw made him tense up with terror. It was a squad of police officers, fully decked out in riot gear and carefully searching the area. Their leader was the only one without his helmet, showing clear as day what Oscar was up against. A ghost of his past, Captain John Yahrnam--the very same bastard that shut down Oscar's smuggling operations in Alola.

He had followed him all the way out here? How did he know Oscar had fled to Hoenn? How did he know that Oscar was at Mt. Chimney? Actually--the more questions Oscar asked the more he began to understand what was really happening. The tipping point was when he realized that Captain Yahrnam had died last year; he remembered because Oscar had flow out to Alola to dance on his grave. That was a good trip. But if Yahrnam was dead, who was this guy?

Oscar began to suspect that the Interdream mist was doing what it does best, preying upon Oscar's memories and fears to create some sort of illusion. Lulu had warned him about this nonsense and he fell for it anyway, he felt so very foolish. Yet there was only one way to be sure, if he confronted the illusions and nothing happens then surely they would disappear. Without speaking of his plan, Oscar began moving away from the safety of the rock...

Mage Maddox

Pious footsteps tapped softly, closer and closer to Mage's rock. It felt like he was tied down into the pit of a giant Murkrow nest and that the black birds were flocking home to roost. Shadows hovered above him, invading his vision. How did they track him all the way down here? Mage should be far out of their psychics' radar, and well shielded by his own coven of Pokemon. Did his defences slip? Or were they right? Sooner or later, they would find him, and their god would claw Mage back into his dark heart.

Mage trembled, quaking against his own muscles as he tried to hold himself in place. Oscar, though, did not share his fear. Mage blanched when he ventured outward. Slowed down by fear, Mage's hand grabbed outwards but clawed into thin air instead.

"Stop!"

Mage hissed, but Oscar had moved out of the safety of the rock. Strangled by panic, Mage moved frantically, reaching for a Pokeball in his belt.

"Stop him!"

Tim, Mage's Gastly, stretched his gaseous tendrils outwards, hoping to ensnare Oscar and reel him back behind the rock. Mage peeked out from his cover - he could see a flash of that familiar purple-red robe, and he refused to look further. If Oscar had somehow fallen prey to their ability to hook one's mind into their claws, he had to pull Oscar back at all costs.

oscar clayton