When you first woke up in this miserable little cell, you had been desperate to break out, to escape, to rebel. Now? Getting back inside feels like a mercy, a reprieve from the cruelty of the wardens and the guards, a place where you won't be punished. A hard-earned moment to yourself, even if it doesn't really belong to you.

Still, you take the chance to strip off your soaked clothes and don the fresh ones. You don't bother to be discrete, because there's not much left to see. It's all more of the same, more of the rest: More burns, more scars, more of you that was taken away.

As you finish up, you go stand facing the bars, waiting for Lulu to change...

...

...

...You keep waiting. Waiting for a voice to pipe up in your head, to try and coax you into sneaking a peek at her naked body. You wait for the rebuke to that suggestion, for a warning to keep your eyes to yourself. You wait for the critique into the rebuke into the counter into the non-sequitir, for more and more voices to join into the argument. You wait for the debate between a dozen shoulder angels and a dozen shoulder devils, going back and forth, trying to sway you to their side, squabbling and bickering on and on until you can't take it anymore.

But it never comes. There's no voices. There's no dialogue. There's nothing. Nobody is there. Nobody but you.

Before you know it, the moment has passed, and you're still staring out at the nothing. Oh well. Even if you had looked, it's not like you'd enjoy it. Not with the way things are. The way you are.

"Don't worry about me." You assure Lulu, turning to face her. Even that small movement takes more effort than it should, as you drag your busted leg along with you. "I'll be fine. I always feel cold. Ever since... Well, you know."

After a moment, you shake your head.

"It doesn't bother me now. I'm numb to it."

---

Lulu Flint

As soon as the last dreg of filth is scraped from the floor, the punishment ends. The monster is dragged by into the darkness by its Toxic Chains. You've earned yourselves the briefest moment of respite.

And then, the cold water falls upon your burnt skin.

"Ghhhhhh...!"

It's torture. It feels like... Well, there's no point describing it in detail, is there? With all that you've suffered in the last few hours alone, pain is an emotion that is starting to lose meaning to you. You've already suffered so much, what's a little more? Though you don't remove your uniform, you do manage to roll over to your other side and let the frigid shower wash over your wounds. Better to be clean than comfortable, you think. Not that you'll ever find much comfort in a place like this.

When the deluge ends, you attempt to crawl up to your feet once more, though your freshest set of wounds make that difficult. The dog had at least been "kind" enough to focus its beating on your upper body, but the ogre had no qualms about hitting you in the legs. You struggle on your own for far too long before Lulu Flint finds you again.

"...Thanks."

You take Lulu's hand without hesitation. You lean on her like your life depends on it. Because, in a way, it does.

And so, you carry on. Out of the hole, leaving the monster behind to its feast. Through the endless corridors and the pulsating tubes. Then, finally, back to your ward, and back to your cell.

---

Hey uhhhhhhhh have you guys read the hit thread MARKOV CHAIN featuring Shred and Lulu? It's pretty good! You should read it!!!
TL;DR - Shred squirms about on the floor like a worm, washes himself like a worm in a puddle, and returns to his cell like a worm who is in a prismatic penitentiary. And he does it CLOTHED.

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Passho Berry (350 PD)

HARVESTING

be sure to visit the pretty petal flower shop near rustboro!

1X Grepa Berry (Planted 03/02/2024, Harvesting 23/04/2024, Overgrow Boosted to 1 Week Timer, 120PD harvested total)

350 - 120 = 230PD.

TOTAL

do come again!

230 PD

Without blinking, you reach out, grab one of Howard's gold coins, and peel it open to reveal the chocolate-- Oh, no, actually, these are real. You blink. Okay, maybe the two of you just got horribly unlucky on those first few crates. Surely, you've got all the guff out of the way by now. Surely, everything that's left is pure money magic. Surely? Surely.

"...They are pretty nice. What are these, dubloons? I hope they're dubloons."

You toss the coin back to the Admin, and head back to work with a newfound optimism. You've got a feeling this next box is going to be REALLY good. So, you find yourself a nice fancy-looking crate, crack it open, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand it's full of novelty mugs.

You pick one out. It's plain white, with the words World's Best Boss emblazoned in a simple black font. After a moment of thought, you set it to the side, because clearly it wasn't meant for anybody in Team Rocket.

You try again. This mug is far more elaborate, shaped like a very fat Cufant with its arching trunk acting as a handle. Huh. Weird. Though, it does remind you that the Rocket requistions department had a spare Copperajah lying about, and one of the boys gave you first dibs on it. You might take him up on that when you get back to base. You won't be taking the mug, though. Not your style.

You check one last one, for good measure. It's got a funny drawing of a Slakoth in a lab coat with goggles on, and he's holding little vials and beakers and stuff, and there's a bunch of words beneath it: Sulfur, Lanthanum, Potassium, Oxygen, Thorium... Haha! You don't get it. Then again, are you supposed to? You're just some idiot who dropped out of high school to get play Pokemon Trainer. It's not meant for you. Sciencey people, though? They probably look at this mug and think it's the funniest thing in the world.

"...Hey, Howard, do you think Lulu Flint would like this mug?"

---

howard slayte
"""Catching""" the Copperajah (PLEASE COUNT IT I DO NOT WANT TO SPAWN A WHOLE ASS ELEPHANT INTO THIS SHIPPING CONTAINER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

There's a strange look in Velmos' eyes, though it doesn't take you long to parse what he wants.

"There's no seconds." You state bluntly, though you do gesture towards your pitiful bowl of pitiful soup. "But if you want my leftovers, then go nuts... As in, you're free to eat them, too."

As it stands, though? You've got plenty to chew on, but little to swallow. Despite your best efforts, you've dredged up plenty of insight into the Megalopolans, and yet more nothing on the Toxic Chain. A dangerous parasite, a whole mob of missing Megalopolans, a plethora of witnesses, and yet, all you've got are theories and conjecture. But despite your ever-building frustrations, there's no more point on probing Velmos over it.

You glance away from the conversation and towards the clock. You've still got a few minutes to burn before you're ready to call it quits. So, might as well indulge a little personal curiosity until the time's up.

"Well, who says you need an Ultra Wormhole? There's Pokemon who can screw around with time and space like that, right?" You ponder aloud, stroking your chin as you do. "Say, Palkia, or Hoopa, or one of those types. Couldn't they just rip open a tear or portal or something and let you all march back at once? Hell, with that kind of power on your side, you could probably even reclaim that Ultra Megalocity of yours, too."

...Well, you doubt Palkia's avatar would ever deign to help Team Rocket's allies, and you don't have the slightest clue of where Hoopa and Kyurem went, but still.

---

shiv

From up high, you have a grand view of the chaotic aftermath of your attack. You watch intently as her rushes about, struggling to steer his steed out of harm's way. His Raging Bolt seems faster than yours, but frailer, too. That tracked. From the brief skim you did of Team Rocket's intel on him, maximising speed seemed to be his MO.

Or, to put it bluntly, this was his gimmick. And while it might've worked against the average gym-goer, it wasn't going to work against you.

"Aqua Jet, now."

Another distorted snarl burst out, and the Walking Wake surges forth upon a road of rushing water. There is no deception, there are no feints. Its path is as straight and narrow as such an unruly move can be, speeding like a bullet to make direct impact against both Josh and his Raging Bolt at once.

Meanwhile, you put one foot in front of the other and start the long walk down from the treeline upon the hill down to the battlefield proper. The ambush is over. Now? It's time for the fight to begin.

---

Josh Devlin

Howard moves fast, but your hand moves faster.

You grab the archaeologist by the neck, tight enough to choke him, but not enough to suffocate. That might seem like a meaningless difference to him, but for you, it's a world of difference. With all the hate burning in your blood and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it takes tremendous restraint to not crush his windpipe.

And with every second that annalise henderson and june sleigh get further away, your grip on the situation grows looser and tighter at once.

"HOWARD." You snarl, looking him in the eye with barely hidden disdain and undisguised incredulity. "SHE'S ON THE OTHER SIDE. SHE'S AN ENEMY. SHE CHOSE TO BE HERE. SHE TRIED TO FUCKING STAB ME. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

---

howard slayte

It's been some time since you last interfaced with the "RKS System". Besides a brief incursion when it was first introduced, you've mostly left it be. It's all just roundabout nonsense, isn't it? Like horoscopes and zodiac and shit. You were content to leave it alone and let brighter minds untangle its many, many mysteries.

But in the aftermath of the Silent Icelands, with the prophecies of Kyurem looming large over Hoenn, you've decided to indulge again. Maybe it'll help to shed a little light in the days to come.

Plus, with all the surgeries you've got lined up, it's not like you've got much else to do in the meantime. The alternative is a packed schedule of bed rest, physiotherapy, and medication, and the less of that you have to go through, the better. So, accompanied by THEO BECKETT, you once again find yourself within a simulated universe.

And this one? It's fucking crazy.

You're barely even loaded in, and you're going a hundred miles an hour on some kind of futuristic robo-Cyclizar. Things barely even have the chance to render before Techno Blasts start to rain down upon you.

"SHIT!"

You slam your foot down on (what you think is) the clutch, crank (what you think is) the gearbox as high as it can go, and put the (what you think is) the pedal to (what you can only assume is) the metal.

---

THEO BECKETT

^{Continued from here.}
Your whispers with Lulu Flint are cut short as the votes are tallied and totalled and the results announced: Trust has beaten out selfishness. Neither side has forsaken the other. Both will bear the punishment to come, but they will bear it together.

But it's still a punishment. Your third in however many minutes. The pain, the bruises, the fractures, the blood, they're all still fresh on your body and in your mind. As you're herded onto the platform like cattle, you're barely even able to stand, let alone walk, let alone at any reasonable pace. All you can do is stagger along and keep your balance as the Megalopolans push you forwards, wheezing and coughing and gasping all the while.

It occurs to you that you must seem like the weakest of them all right now. Not just in the ward, but in the whole wide world. But that doesn't matter. You just need to keep going. You need to stay alive.

For her sake.

It's a packed elevator and a long trip down. As you descend, you think you see some familiar shades of hair amidst the dark, lovescorned pink and bitter red and arrogant white and more. But ultimately, it's the virulent green that sparks a reaction, booting you down into the hole below. The penalty for your failure? Clean-up duty. Scrape the filth from the floors until they're spotless. Something you're quite familiar with from your days as a Rocket Grunt. It sounds remarkably easy.

Until the doors slide open, and something emerges.

A creature strangled by Toxic Chains, like a flower ensnared by parasitic vines, lashing out at anything that draws near to it. There's something familiar about it, like you might've seen it before, though you can't place where. In a way, it isn't dissimilar to the ape or the mutt looming above you, but at the same time, it's undeniably different, isn't it?

You don't get much time to scrutinise it, though, before it blindly stomps in your direction. Survival instinct kicks in, and you shove Lulu Flint out of it's path before throwing yourself to the ground, amid the dead and the mochi. Wooden sandals crack hard against your head, then your shoulder, then your back, then your hip, then your knee, then your foot, before finally leaving to stalk another victim.

It hurts. It fucking hurts so goddamn bad. But you can't scream, and you can't suffer. All you can do is quietly pull yourself together and begin to work. You pick and toss the detritus off the floor and towards the bowl. As fast as you can. Before it comes back for a second time.

...A part of you dreads if you'll find any liquid metal or off-red fur among the bodies...

---

s3L_Kp9a
Lulu Flint

Well, it was something.

Not something you can claim you're particularly excited about, mind. If Tera Crystals truly can be made to acquiesce, to bend to the will of an outsider, then you're too late: The Toxic Chain has already taken a hold of them. They're dancing like puppets on strings, just like the Megalopolans, just like you. Even if they weren't, could she manage to sway the fickle power of collective consciousness in her favour? Could you?

A tiny cut on the palm of your hand itches. A bite where you'd held your makeshift knife too tightly. A reminder, however small, of the consequences of failure. The cost of rebellion in all forms. You take a deep breath.

It's not the answer you were hoping for, but it was the only answer you were ever going to get.

"Alr--"

Before you can even begin to reply, you're interrupted by grating barks, grinding machinery, and the shifting of Megalopolans. Whatever you were going to say, it'll have to wait. Your punishment, and surviving it, come first and foremost.

---

Lulu Flint
(CONTINUED IN ROUND 4 OF PRISMATIC PENITENTIARY)