"And you're as inquisitive as always. I ask for a chemist to treat Nihilego poisoning and I get a therapist."

It's more small talk. The admin loved to run his mouth, as Absinthe was was familiar with. Whether it was at her bar or in the field, he never stopped talking. Whether it was a quip, a fact, or some general display of hope, Howard often buried the chemist in words. Occasionally in the pile, there'd be a few good ones.

Instead, she gets a quip. Yet it's different. The undertones of weariness and confusion bleed through.

"I have, and I don't know why." A poisoned hand touches the hat gently, as if expecting it to disappear into the void. The last semblance of the man it had once belonged to threatening to disappear if he ever let go. "This isn't me. This... body. It's too symmetrical. Too... constructed."

The word is spoken with contempt and fear.

"I drowned in Dynergy and this happened. That's all I know."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

Of course she does. Beneath that mask, it is hardly 'her' at all. In the recesses of her mind, there is a whisper of someone named Abby. Buried to history, forgotten by all but the deceased and circumstance.

"Thank you." His eye found hers, the color squeezed of any blue that had once remained and replaced with the vibrant reddish-magenta of Eternatus. A reminder of what was lost, and a warning for what was to come. "You're very kind."

The moment quickly vanished into cool professionalism. The moment of vulnerability is covered up by amusement as Howard regarded the chemist thoughtfully, his lips twitching in amusement. Still, Absinthe was more productive than most doctors the admin met, even if she ignored most of his incessant yapping.

"How bossy." The words are more teasing than demeaning. "Try not to let my blood melt the syringe."

It sounded like a joke, but there was an actual chance it could occur.

"I'd like it if you could stay in Petalburg for the reconstruction efforts. A lot of grunts got poisoned by the sandstorm. We could use your help." He flipped through the pile of paperwork steadily accumulating on a nearby table as Absinthe prepared. By the time she was ready, another grunt had thrown another folder onto the stack. "Would you consider it?"

---

Absinthe Blackwood

There was once a Rocket Beast who owned a very successful bar. The food had been solid and the liquor delectable. Yet its owner had closed up shop and had decided to ascend to godhood while leaving his humanity behind.

He would have once sufficed. No longer.

"I'll scrounge up a few people to handle the supply runs. Don't worry, you'll want for little while you're here." Besides running water, occasionally. Why Regirock had chosen to level a water purification plant, the admin would never know. "As for watching the bar..."

Grigori Sokolov had survived Sootopolis. Perhaps a smidge of bar work would lighten his edge and let him do something besides engage in warfare.

"I know a guy. I'll pass him your request."

The blood that fills the syringes is a bright red, easily distinguishable from the dark liquid it should have been. Flecks of Dynergy swirled in the syringe, reacting to the Nihilego toxin within.

"You'll need a place to stay while you're here. Our ships have solid quarters. Kanto did not disappoint in their aid, I'll admit."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

There is no victory. Only defeat for humanity.

Yet it is a defeat that Howard is willing to suffer in exchange for the salvation of their species, because this war will end with a stronger people filled with meaning in purpose. This will be the final war that anyone would ever fight in. Every god would be slain and every monument will be stripped.

Then they will rest on their laurels, for Eternatus will be dead.

"That bad, huh?" His eye does not move from the specimen case as Absinthe fiddles with it. It's a lamentable state of affairs. He wondered how long it'd take for his body to finally just... stop. "No matter."

He was thoughtful for a moment, contemplative.

You won't know what this is, but I suspect that the phenomenon known as the Toxic Chain will return soon." The admin's lip curled in obvious contempt. He had not yet forgotten his imprisonment at Munkidori's behest. "Keep an eye out for it, and if you find a malicious looking monkey, kill it."

Assuming they hadn't long since vanished into the wilderness. Again.

"It's absurd, but I assure you that it's a threat."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"More than necessary." They're the only words he can offer in this moment of brevity. There is no ceremony to death, no grand eulogy to offer. The dead, Howard suspected, would not mind. They had been buried under a thousand tons of stone and crushed within the blink of an eye. That, or they struggled in pockets of air before suffocating.

Regirock had done this. Rocket had done this. This was the legacy that Howard allowed to circulate, and it was his curse to bear. He could not place this on Absinthe's shoulders.

So he didn't.

"This did not need to happen. What was a simple battle has been turned into a mockery. Both by Team Rocket and by that fucking rock's appearance. It will atone by labor, and it will prove that a hammer can both build a house and crack a skull."

Regirock is somewhere. Nearby. It works at moving mountains in the name of Team Rocket.

"This is our purpose. We rebuild what others destroy."

---

Absinthe Blackwood

"I disagree."

The pessimist and the optimist clash. Absinthe saw the worst in things, a perspective painted by trauma and forged by disgust in the world as a result of being broken. Even as she pieced herself back together, that negativity would haunt her until eternity ended. She described Petalburg, the admin thought she was describing herself.

It is with that understanding in mind that he speaks softly.

"People will move into new homes, they will find work, and they will find meaning in the reconstruction of what they have lost. That is what makes us human—our unwavering tenacity. There will be scars..." He gestured to the two mountainsides created by Regirock's attack. "...but they will eventually become a part of the landscape, covered in greenery and trees."

His eye lingered on the chemist's mask for a moment. He says something in an ancient language that he knows she cannot understand.

"⠊ ⠺⠊⠎⠓ ⠞⠓⠁⠞ ⠊⠝⠎⠞⠑⠁⠙ ⠕⠋ ⠉⠓⠁⠝⠛⠊⠝⠛ ⠍⠽ ⠃⠕⠙⠽, ⠽⠕⠥⠗ ⠕⠇⠙ ⠃⠕⠙⠽ ⠉⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠃⠑ ⠗⠑⠞⠥⠗⠝⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠺⠊⠞⠓⠕⠥⠞ ⠁ ⠎⠊⠝⠛⠇⠑ ⠎⠉⠁⠗."

His gaze returned to the stone colossus.

"It will work. It will serve. It will kill Eternatus and anything else that threatens the world." For the first time in years, Regirock was serving the world in a productive way. It rebuilt instead of destroying, it healed instead of hurt, and it instilled order instead of slaughter. "It's an interesting piece of history. Tell me..."

"Do you know why Regirock lacks fingers?"

---

Absinthe Blackwood