You will get through this... You must get through this... You have to get through this...

If not for yourself, then for her.

She has an idea. She doesn't say what it is, but you can see the kaleidoscopic shimmer reflecting in her eyes. It makes sense. After all, Lulu was the one who initially introduced you to the potential of Tera Crystals, wasn't she? Back when you thought they were nothing more than a novel gimmick and a quick buck. Your days of scrounging around caves and tunnels with howard slayte feel so quaint now, don't they? When your biggest enemies were your nictoine addiction and the cost of rent. Now, you stand across from primal and undeniable forces, Space and Envy and Infection and Fire.

Part of you wishes you were back then. Living that carefree life in those days without worry. Though, given where you've found yourself, any time and any place would be better than here and now.

But as much as you'd like to, you can't linger in your memories for long. Not when you can't take Lulu with you.

"The Tera Crystals?" You murmur, though you don't look towards the ceiling. The wound is too raw. It'll only hurt you all the more if you do. Still, you've interacted with them enough to understand what she means. "You think we can summon something to help break us out?"

---

Lulu Flint

To say you're not doing well is the understatement of the century.

You're a wreck of a human being. Your skin is a forest of ash and cinder upon barren earth. Your missing arm aches with phantom pain at memory's slightest provocation. Your eyes... They're so tired. Even when you burn with fury, they never really light up like they used to. And all that? All that was before today.

Rivers of red flood across a graveyard of char. The revenant of your past self is on the brink of being exorcised. If you close your eyes right now, you might never open them again.

And it would be so easy, too. To let them fall. To shut out the world. To let the sun set on Shred Zeppelin, and just...

”Stop.”

You obey. You don't know why. You just do.

”None of it matters now. Now we move forward and stay alive. We figure it out.”

Easy for her to say. Lulu Flint, who has known more than you could ever forget. Lulu Flint, who has survived things even worse than what you've gone through. Lulu Flint, who has solved mysteries the likes of which would've taken you eons to understand. The strong. This intelligent. The beautiful. The wise. She's got everything you don't have, and more besides.

You can't do it. You're supposed to be wild and pure and forever free. Instead, you're chained and tainted and enslaved. How are you supposed to move forward, stay alive, figure it out like this?

”Don’t leave me here.”

...

...

...

Uh oh.

With a groan, you begin the arduous climb back to your feet. It's difficult, with the state you're in. Even breathing, with your bruised ribs and bile-choked throat, is a struggle. The mere act of being is painful. Moving? Is ten times worse. Still, you manage to drag yourself up to your knees. For a moment, you consider trying to rise to your feet, but as soon as that moment passes, you discard the idea outright. No point. Sooner or later, you'll just get tossed back down anyway.

"Alright." You crane your head to look up at your cellmate. Your eyes are defeated. But, they're still open. "I'm here. I'm here with you. And I'll stay here with you until it's all over. I..."

You shouldn't.

"...Promise."

---

Lulu Flint

PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Premium Gacha - Normal (150 PD)

pkmn-hoenn.boards.net/thread/35215/shreds-gacha?page=2

TOTAL

do come again!

150 PD

^{Continued from here and here in Prismatic Penitentiary.}
Trust.

Trust.

Trust. Trust. Trust.

The word repeats itself over and over again in your head. Pleading to you, demanding to be said. The rhythm repeats and repeats, banging on your skull and echoing into your brain. All you have to do is say one word to save everybody and yourself. One word. Just say it.

"T... Tr... TrYUURKGH--"

You cough. You choke. And then, you vomit. Shades of brown and green and yellow and red and black and puce pour from the hole in your mask, splattering across the ground. For a moment, you freeze up. Your eyes nervously glance between the Megalopolans, the warden, and the Toxic Chain around your neck. For better or for worse, there seems to be no punishment for throwing up. So, you continue to retch and heave and retch and heave until your stomach is empty and your throat stops bleeding.

Meltan... Fucking Meltan... He didn't deserve that. None of them did. And he didn't even have a chance...! They just fucking killed him without letting him defend himself... And it's all because of you...

"...Lulu..."

You don't turn to look at her. Instead, you gaze down at her kneeling shadow, as though looking at a reflection in the water. It's so unfortunate, isn't it? That of all the people she could've been stuck with, it had to be with you? That of all the people that had to carry your burden, it had to be her? It's tragic enough to make a man weep, had you any tears left to cry.

"...I fucked it all up again, Lulu." You numbly admit, as though you just lost an argument you never even had. "I keep fucking it up. I don't think I've ever not fucked it up..."

---

Lulu Flint

The first two answers don't surprise you: Howard's a wreck, but despite that, he always manages to keep it together. At the very least, you imagine he's doing just as well as when you last saw him. In terms of Lulu... Grigori doesn't strike you as the scientific type, to be honest, so you suppose his non-answer isn't surprising. Still, no news is good news, right? If she hasn't visited, then that means she's got more important things going on. Fair enough. You guess.

The last bit, though? That's both surprising, and nice to hear.

"Well, that's a relief. Glad to know I'm still getting paid, because my mortgage sure ain't paying itself."

It's a rare silver lining to your cloudy days. If nothing else, you've got job security in your future. That's good, because as far as you can see it, you DO have nothing else. You lost everything you fought for, and even more on top of that. You'd lament it, but you've already had several days and several weeks for that. Those wounds are just as numb as the rest.

You're not sure whether they'll scab over or fester. But until you find out? The passionate, ambitious, and brave corpse has nothing to do but seethe.

"...I'm not going to let them get away this this, Grigori. Them, their allies, the League, all of them. They'll pay for what they've done."

---

Grigori Sokolov

"...Yeah. Yeah, pretty stupid."

You proceed to quietly kick the remaining half of the crushed case away into a far corner, nestling it neatly amidst the filth and the spiderwebs. The treasure has been unsurfaced. Long live the treasure.

That was a close call. Where the hell did they even get that memento of dark history, anyway? You're getting more and more questions about this damned shipping container. Who the hell did Howard buy it from, and why is it like this? Apparently it's full of golds and diamonds and wealth untold, but instead, all you've found is freak shit and wild Pokemon. Is there ANYTHING of value in here? Anything at all?!

Breathing a sig of relief and frustration, you rip the tarp off of a nearby metal table aaaaaaaaaaaaaand it's a Metang.

Sigh. Pokeball. Catch. Yadda yadda. Yadda yadda. Yadda fuckin' yadda.

"Is this some kind of nightmare, Howard?" You ask, turning to face the hoarder. Despite the seemingly joking tone your query might imply, your voice has never been more stern, more serious, than it is right now. "Has Walsh trapped me in this absurdist hellscape for an eternity over some perceived slight? What's going on here? What is this?"

---

howard slayte
Catching Metang.

Something about watching Velmos eat makes you viscerally uncomfortable. Watching his throat shift and bulge as it forces down mouthful after mouthful of meat. With a shake of your head, you push you soup to the centre of the table and lean back in your seat.

Arceus, you'd kill for a cigarette right now.

Luckily, your spray-and-pray approach to interrogation seems to have borne some fruit, even if it's only a single grape from a withering vine.

"Cyllora, huh?" You murmur, rubbing your chin. Frankly, it's a small miracle you even remembered that name to begin with. You would've thought it was just some average everyday Megalopolan name, like John or Frank or Jane or Frankette. For it to be a big player, big enough for Velmos to bother remembering them... Well, it has to mean something, right? "You think they might've blundered into the Toxic Chain? Or did they get themselves infected intentionally to try and get back home quicker?"

You're not sure how that second one would work, but given that seems to be the MO of the Megalopolans, it makes the most sense to you. Though, now that you think about, it does raise an different, completely unrelated question.

"...Actually, why are you even still here? All of you, I mean. Can't you just head back to your dimension through the Ultra Wormholes like everyone else does? Why go through the effort of making a big ship in the first place?"

---

shiv

Aha! There's the little fucker you're looking for.

As you peer around the corner, you see the humble Porygon hover about, floating to and fro as it searched for whatever it was seeking. Probably for some data. Maybe one of the lucky sons of bitches in here has got themselves one of those fancy quantam fibre wi-fi connections? Hell if you know. Hell if you're going to bother finding out.

For a moment, you wonder if the copper wire market is still booming. Then you recall that fibre optic wires don't have copper in them. They're made of, like, diamonds and shit. Not the kind of diamonds you can just pluck out and sell, though. The shitty kind of diamonds.

Drat.

Damn.

But hey, that's neither here nor there. Plucking a Pokeball from your belt, you throw it at the Porygon. Because that? That's the diamonds of the future. In a sense. A sense you can't understand. But as long as the enigmatic science team understands? You're IN THE MONEY.

Pokeball thrown. Porygon? Caught. You hope. Needless to say? Yoink. Hills? Mauville. And Apart Men? T.

---

CATCH THIS MFER PORYGON LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

As you peer around the corner, you spot a Doduo loitering in the hall. Is that one of the runaways? You pull out your phone and briefly skim the file you were given, and... No, actually, that's just some Doduo. Huh.

Is it a pet? Is it wild? Is it supposed to be here? Is it trespassing? How did it even get up here to the fourth floor without wings? Did it take the stairs, or the elevator? Is it going to make a mess of things?

...Well, not your problem if that bird shits all over the place. Onwards and upwards.

---

Spawn 2/3.
NOT catching Doduo.
Normal Spawns ONLY.

No sooner than you hit the ground does the noose around your neck drag you upward. Yet it's not quite a hanging, is it? No, because as close to death as you might be, you've very much alive. The Toxic Chain provides just enough support to stop you from suffocating, but not enough to let you breathe clearly.

Limbo within limbo within limbo within limbo. You're shackled to the border, refused the freedom to live or die, forced to march to the beat of a drum you can't even hear. It's a real pain in the neck, not to mention all the other parts of you that hurt.

But the agony of your body is nothing compared to the agony that comes next.

Your chin is forced upward to face the ceiling of Tera Crystals, and your eyes go wide. Images flicker upon the glassy surface, projecting a scene so close yet so far. Though it may be wreathed in a facade of high-tech bullshit and Megalopolan aesthetic, your soul can immediately recognise it was for what it - Gallows. An electric chair. A guillotine. And as Pokeballs are brought to the chopping block, you catch a glimpse of the all-too-terrible future, and your eyes go wide with panic.

You struggle. You struggle and struggle and struggle. And yet, despite that, the future refuses to change. One by one, the Pokeballs are smashed to bits. And before you know it? It's your turn.

The screen flickers. A familiar hexagonal shape appears.

"NO."

A Pokeball is placed within the bowl.

"STOP IT. STOP IT!"

The hammer rises.

"PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD--"

"m-mr shred...?"

Smash. The hammers falls. The Pokeball is crushed.

"MELTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!"

Emotion tears through you like an explosion. Your howl of sheer pain echoes throughout the prison, and yet, it will never reach the outside. As the grip of the Toxic Chain loosens and you fall to the ground, a dozen emotions all wrestle for control of your volatile state of mind. Yet in the end, it's all too much to bear, and by the time you hit the stone floor, you're driven catatonic by the mania.

More than anything, in this moment, you want to die. You want to land on your neck and die in a instant. Alas, instead you land on your beaten back, and simply lay there like the corpse that Lulu Flint thought you were.

And then, as though your suffering were nothing more than a diversion, things are quickly moved along. A question is asked - Trust, or forsake? You don't answer. You can't answer.

And yet, for the cruel things that hold your chains, that alone is answer enough.

---

TL;DR - Shred gets punished. Does not take it well. Meltan is no more. Goes catatonic from emotional overload. Votes Forsake by default.
Lulu Flint