Medicine. Right. Who went to Rocket for something as simple as medicine? Working outside the law made things cost more. Bribing officials, blackmailing distributors... If the contents were just to be used for medicine, it would've been easier to just find them another way.

Paranoia. Delusion. Every once in a while, his mind gave him a twitch of fear that upset the waters of tranquility. Howard trusted his mind absolutely, but occasionally, his body failed. The battle with Palkia and Chi-Yu's Avatars had taught him that, after they had thoroughly thrashed him.

"Is that so? I was just curious. It's my job to ask questions. What does this mean? When will my goods arrive? How much will they cost? Don't take offense." He watched as Marisol cut the tape from the box. His eye bore into the scalpel as it danced in her fingers. It'd be very easy for Marisol to plunge the scalpel into his body, given his weakened form. The blade would never make it if she tried, but fear and paranoia blossomed where distrust festered.

He tamped those emotions down. He needed another doctor that he could trust. Trust between academics is what caused progress to bloom.

"I could be convinced to waive some of the price, doctor. You seem like a very inquisitive woman." He knew little of Marisol's past. He was a newer recruit, even if he was an admin. Whatever secrets she had long since buried were unknown to him, and would stay that way.

"How good are you at treating frostbites, and..." For a moment, it seemed as if his eye had changed from a cool, icy blue to a purplish red. He would not mention Regice here."...other things? I'm getting sick of vomiting into my toilet every few nights."

---

MARISOL SIMONE

He looked at her quizzically.

"How many people broadcast their flaws for the world to see? Their sickness? Their allegiance? Their fears? I don't wear my wounds for all to see." The admin huffed for a moment, before chuckling and tapping his missing eye. An eyepatch gleamed in its place, while underneath a Key Stone flickered in the socket. "Besides this. Eyepatches are just cool."

It was easy to act lighthearted. Doing so made it remarkably easy to appear shallow and vainglorious. It was the best armor he had when not in Sootopolis. Other Rockets were strong fighters, Howard was not. His only defense was that of his rank; something that was best sweetened by courtesy and hidden under an innocent guise.

Doctors were the same. You didn't hurt a doctor. Howard's eye flicked to the Dusknoir as it dealt with the goods.

Pretending to be someone he wasn't was something Howard did very well. He suspected that the doctor across from him was the same. Otherwise, she wouldn't be running a black market clinic in the first place.

"Kyurem attacked near Oldale recently. It got me good." The admin lied through his teeth as he slipped his arm out from his sleeve. His arm was layered in blues, blacks, and even frozen bits of ice that had yet to melt. Most of it came from exposure to Regice. The Pokémon was far too cold to be around constantly.

For a moment, it looked like a faint flicker of reddish-violet energy sparked near his arm, and from a Pokeball at his hip.

Dynergy.

"I'd rather not cause a fuss about it. You have a solution for this?" Howard gestured at the arm sheepishly. All of Rocket's doctors were either focused on treating grunts or other higher ups. They were overworked, and he didn't want to contribute to that load. "If not, I was going to just sit in a hot bath for several hours."

Grunts were more important. Rocket considered them expendable, but Howard did not.

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MARISOL SIMONE

"Yes." The lie flies from his lips with minimal resistance. Ice from Kyurem is likely vastly different from Regice, but who could tell? mint frost was far away, and he was intimately familiar with the dragon. "It's from Kyurem."

A historian shouldn't be so willing to tell a lie. That realization alarmed him, though there was nothing to be done. The lie was a shield, and he would hide behind it.

According to Mint, there was a difference between Regice and Kyurem's ice. Kyurem's was otherworldly, but Regice's was eternally cold glacial ice. It was of this world. It could be studied. It could be understood. It could not lie.

Marisol could suspect that he was lying, but she could not prove it, unless she could find a way into whatever hellhole Palkia had sent Kyurem's massive form and came out with a sample.

Thus, he met her gaze. The warmth in her gaze did not mix with freezing chill he felt.

"If you can remove it, I have no objections. Is it painful?" He loathed pain, craven as he was. If he ended up unconscious, he'd likely wake up in an ice bath with his kidneys stolen. "What's the Musharna for?"

---

MARISOL SIMONE

Of course it came down to anesthetics. He figured it would, but safety was a dangerous thing to reach for.

Howard lacked a barrier, compared to his divinely-fueled colleagues. Jayden could freeze someone with his mind, Fern could turn into lightning, Cillian's miasma kept him safe, and so on. Howard was not divinely chosen. He had Regice, but it was not a god. It was a manmade construct. If he went under, the only barrier he had was courtesy.

Weak. Fragile.

Someone braver would stay awake through the process. Underbosses Quinn and Beckett would've insisted on watching. They trusted nobody, and they were used to pain. The admins and beasts were the same. Howard loathed pain. He loathed trusting people that he did not know.

"That's necessary?" Howard frowned, uneasy.

After a long battle, cowardice and aversion to pain won over rationality. The admin relented, though begrudgingly. His eye flicked to the Musharna.

"Very well." His Claydol appeared in a flash, its several eyes making it the perfect sentry as it held Howard's Pokeballs with a firm psychic power. It had no face to display emotions, and therefore the doll betrayed little. It simply floated there, watching.

If anything, it could always open more of his Pokeballs. Regice's was a contingency that would not be relied on. If it opened, everyone in the building would freeze.

"Let's begin."

---

MARISOL SIMONE

Relaxation was impossible.

Even ignoring the circumstances, Howard loathed the deprivation of senses. Losing an eye had left half of his vision cloaked in darkness, and the fear of what lurked in that unseen part of his vision often kept him awake. It made sleeping obnoxious, though he tried to crash whenever he got the chance.

Rocket's eggheads often shrugged off sleep in favor of work. It was something he shared with Lulu Flint.

He did not trust Marisol. An underworld doctor did not need to hold themselves responsible for errors. They worked outside the law for the reason. All Howard could hope was that him being Rocket would be a sturdy shield for her to keep her hand steady.

He supposed Marisol wouldn't be in business if she screwed up.

"Mmmph!" Consciousness left him, but begrudgingly. He stared at the doctor for an unnerving amount of time before finally collapsing on the table.

In the corner, a Pokeball twitched as the Claydol stared intently. Sheets of ice gleamed on the admin's skin, reflecting distorted images of Marisol back at the doctor. A mocking mask of the genuine article.

Ironic.

---

He dreamed of a brighter yesterday.

There had been a time, long ago, where he had not been a member of Rocket. Instead, he had spent his youth traveling the many regions of the world in search of old discoveries lost to the sands of time. It had been a free life, and a liberating one. Yet it had not been fulfilling. It had not been a life of wealth.

As Marisol chipped away at primordial ice, it fell to the ground with small clatters, ripe for the taking. Studying them would unveil little, but the ice was ancient and primordial. There was one thing that Marisol would be able to say with absolute certainty:

It was ice that belonged to this world.

As the dream mist dissipated, the admin stirred slightly. He slept deeply, which was a rare enough thing. The dream he experienced was of a ruin and an Aerodactyl. Suddenly, he felt the pain of a knife cleaving into an eye.

"NO!" Howard leaned up on the table and immediately hissed in pain. Soreness was an understatement. Marisol had deftly cleaved at flesh to minimize scarring; a testament to her skill with the scalpel. No blade was so sharp that it could cut away pain.

On the counter, a Pokeball rattled violently, in sync with the admin's throbbing headache and dizzy spell.

"Thanks." The Dusknoir helped Howard to his feet. His mind was dulled, otherwise he would've had his Claydol help him up. As it was, he felt disapproval emanating from the stone doll. Howard watched Marisol dabble at her shelves and cubbies. "How did it go?"

He looked down at his arm.

"Hm."

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MARISOL SIMONE