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The Dummy Ward was living up to its name, because Alba was surrounded by a bunch of gormless idiots. All those people, hoisted into the air like thieves at the gallows… What a waste. He wasn’t planning on staying in this hellhole forever, but he wasn’t going to suffer because of some harebrained scheme to steal some crystals, either.[break][break]

But the worst of all the idiots was the idiot trying to talk about the vote. At least the Tera thieves were only shooting themselves in the foot — this guy was holding a gun to each and every one of them.[break][break]

“And why the hell would it do that? If you seriously think the warden will listen to you, that chain must be cutting off the circulation to your brain. Look at what happens when you try and break the game they’re playing; don’t eat the mochi, and you die horrifically. Try and steal, and you get your Pokémon killed. What are you gonna bargain with? What could you possibly offer, when the wardens are here to make us suffer, and when you only have the clothes on your back?” Alba forces his voice to be even as he speaks. Look level-headed, look in control… look like more than just someone trying to avoid the crack of the whip.[break][break]

“The most logical choice in every situation is to pick ‘forsake’. No matter what we pick, there’s always a fifty-fifty chance we get the harsh punishment, but we can only completely avoid it by forsaking. I know Mr. Martyr over there was talking about loved ones in the other wards… but we don’t know that, and they don’t know that.” The most logical choice in every situation is to pick ‘forsake’, therefore, they had to assume that the other ward would also pick ‘forsake’. In that case, it didn’t matter what they picked; they’d always have to suffer the harsh punishment. But that didn’t really help with the sell, did it?[break][break]

“Not to mention… it’s a punishment, not an execution. They’re keeping us alive so we can work, and there are what, a few dozen people in this ward? Why would they kill so many people, so many workers, just because of a single vote?” So many assumptions, none of them making sense… The worst kind of idiot was an idiot with a cause.[break][break]

With his ramble to the rest of the ward over, Alba turns to look at Laurence Whateley. “You get where I’m coming from, right? You get why we have to forsake?”

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“Alba. From the looks of things, we’re in prison… somewhere. No windows for me to tell where, though.” There’s still the dying jitters of panic in his Opelucid accent, but the more he talks and paces about, the more they fade out. Panic wouldn't do him any good. Focus, focus…[break][break]

“There’s got to be something… Some way for us to break out of here— Hey, something's happening out there.” Alba’s train of thought is interrupted by something descending from the ceiling. Their captors? They're draped in Toxic Chains, the same way both prisoner and guard are, but they're clearly higher than both in the order of things. The monkey stays, but the bird continues down into the darkness below; so there are even more cells than these.[break][break]

“Wronged you? It was self-defence; haven't done anything worse than what you tried.” He's mostly just talking to himself as he gazes out of the bars of his shared cage. He hadn’t even been in Hoenn for the Three Day War; all the scientist had done was get caught up in their affairs while hunting for monsters. Poor, innocent him.[break][break]

Dissent and defiance cry out from across the ward, but it’s a feeble rebellion. And like all rebellions that cannot hold up the sky, it is crushed.[break][break]

Whatever that started the uproar is not human, just some offal strewn across the ground. Alba watches it turn from a person to a thing, unblinking til the end.[break][break]

“What’s your name, by the way?” He asks as the copper stench of blood reaches their cell. His voice is even, but his fingers drum against his thigh as he reaches for the mochi. “I told you mine, seems only fair you tell me yours.”[break][break]

It’s sweet. It’s too sweet, because it’s pleasantly sweet; a gentle ray of light breaking through the gloom. There’s a fairytale like this, isn’t there? A gingerbread house in the woods, fattening up children for the witch to eat. But what else can he do but chew at its bricks and mortar, to stave off the cauldron for another day?[break][break]

Work begins. The promise of reward and fear of execution work to keep Alba’s hands moving, even as sharp edges bite into his skin. Are they trying to recreate their ship, like they tried and failed to at Route 119? And if the Megalopolans can turn their dreams into reality, then…[break][break]

“Please, help me be free,” he speaks to the shards in his hands, hoping the weeping cuts on his hands carry his words far enough.

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It’s a confidence that’s earned, really. Who else could possibly be more knowledgeable about Shadow Pokémon than the avatar of Lugia itself?[break][break]

…Herself. Just in case.[break][break]

If there’s one thing Admin Quinn is also an expert on, it’s apparently flattery. He’s impressed; Alba inclines his head and smiles to graciously accept the compliment. It was the only choice he could have made, of course. Purification wasn’t for the likes of him and Musharna.[break][break]

But this meeting was more than just an ego trip.[break][break]

“Shadow Pokémon created from this dream share the same traits as already existing Shadow Pokémon, like Lugia. So the question is, do they share the same cause, or is this something different, capable of making the same effect?” This wasn’t his area of expertise, but it was his job to research and development, without concern or discrimination.[break][break]

“Do you mind explaining what Shadow Pokémon are, exactly? Maybe that’ll help shine a light on what exactly is happening here.”

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“Aromatisse could whip something up, maybe…” Alba rubbed his nose at the thought of that particular Pokémon. An anonymous gift (Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki) that had appeared on his doorstep one day, and had threatened to burn out the nosehairs of anything within 10 metres… Breaking it in had been a unique challenge, given that he’d had to order in a full-face gas mask to stand being near it for long enough.[break][break]

…There was still work to be done if he didn’t want to lose his sense of smell, though. [break][break]

But the conversation turned to a new topic, one tied to the far-stretching roots of the colossal tree they watched over.[break][break]

“Yeah, I was there. It’s a little hard to cover twenty years quickly, so excuse me if I skip out some details…” Alba had spent half his life in that dream, or it had at least felt that way. How could he cover all the oak rings he had grown in that time? No, Admin Fox would only want the bigger picture, the things that would be useful for the glory of Rocket.[break][break]

Because the only way to speak of tree rings was to take a bonesaw to your soul.[break][break]

“Have you ever seen Eternatus’ poison? It’s like sludge. Nothing’s perfectly safe from it; if you’re not careful, it gets into your mind, makes you see things, makes you forget. It was everywhere, when we first arrived. Seeping into the land, clogging up the heart of the king, just over there,” he says, pointing across to the other side of the trunk.[break][break]

“We’d been thrown into the middle of a war between the Black Knight and the Skeleton: Necrozma and Eternatus. Looking back, I think it had been feeding off the stories we told — the stories we lived — even then.”

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When Alba wakes up, he feels like he’s buried six feet under. The chain locked around his neck cuts off his breath, only giving him the last dying gasps of a corpse. It affixes a coffin lid to his cadaver, gripping it tightly enough that he can barely feel his face.[break][break]

At first, he assumes it to be one of Musharna’s borrowed nightmares; a harmless thing that would slip from memory as soon as he woke up in that cold sweat. As he slowly rouses to full consciousness, as his stay in this dismal dungeon continues, he comes to realise this has nothing to do with his Pokémon. His Pokémon aren’t even here.[break][break]

The first stage of panic sets in. His body tries to hyperventilate, but the Chain doesn’t let all the air through; all the Rocket scientist is cough and splutter until his mind clears. In the next cell over, a girl howls into the empty air.[break][break]

And outside the cell… it’s them. Of course it’s them. The aliens from Route 119…[break][break]

“So this is where you went.” What even was this place? Some dilapidated prison they’d taken and turned into a base of operations? A glorified butchery for them to keep their prey? And the Chains: shackles to some, badges of honour to others. Something had to have been brewing in the shadows of Hoenn for months, now.[break][break]

Finally, Alba’s attention properly turns to the inside of his cell — something he really should have done before now — though there’s not much of note except for the other guy in the same mask and foreign clothes.[break][break]

…He should probably talk to him.[break][break]

“Hey, do you remember anything from before you woke up here?” His tone of voice suggests he isn’t expecting much, or anything at all. Still, it’s worth a shot, right?

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A monkey is the freest thing in the world,[break]
Always swinging from[break]
branch

to

branch

[break]
Never touching the earth.[break]
If that's why it's free, better to be a bird,[break]
But you see,[break]
A monkey has the ‘key’.[break][break]

…That fever from Poison Patrol was doing terrible things to the brain.

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There's no way they can drag this back with them… Not that Alba had been expecting to be able to going into this, but it’s still a little disappointing.[break][break]

No, the real Important Scientific Studies comes in the form of… a fancy looking high-tech camera. The next best thing to stealing the adorable predator away is giving the lab team a detailed recording of it. He presses a button, and…[break][break]

WHIRRRRRR, FLASH, CLICK![break][break]

“I think it’s time for us to go. Right now, actually.” Because it turns out the complex machinery involved in an Important and Scientific camera is very, very loud.

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There it is. It looks so peaceful, sleeping there, though the battle scars tell a different story. Whether it's to avoid being eaten, or because it seems cruel to wake it up, they'd have to do their work in hushed tones.[break][break]

…Though maybe ‘they’ should actually be ‘Alba’...?[break][break]

Stoutland does not seem to appreciate the cavern beast being called ‘your dog’, huffing in protest at the turn of phrase until a hand reaches over and scratches the back of its neck.[break][break]

“What? Yeah. The closer I can get, the better I can take a look,” Alba whispers. “You can stay here if you want, just keep an eye on it just in case.”[break][break]

Judging from the fact that he's already creeping towards the dog, he doesn't look like he's going to be dissuaded.

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More and more changes take foot. An army of Tinkaton ready to beat people with hammers, but some of the weapons of choice are of an alien design. …Or was that ‘more natural’?[break][break]

The rot taking hold of Alba only tightens his grip. He’s starting to run a fever as he releases Whimsicott. He needs to collect data on this, but the more he tries to delve into the new threat, the more it eats away at him. But that’s fine. There are far worse toxins in the world; the Chains could pat themselves on the back when they got to destroying a world.[break][break]

Suddenly, there is a brilliant flash as Whimsicott suddenly Terastallises into the Normal type, the white light dizzying the scientist. …Rest, after this. Rest, and ibuprofen.

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Something feels wrong. The world spins just a little bit as Alba arrives on the scene of the latest hazardous happening. Maybe he's coming down with something.[break][break]

…Considering what Hoenn was dealing with right now, that didn't sound very good.[break][break]

But all he can do is press on. Aromatisse’s perfumes fill the air as she tries to soothe people's maladies, a Healer trying to neutralose a dire poison. Time will tell if it ends up being enough to make a difference.

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What a mess. Are all these incidents organised chaos, or just the result of Pokémon being encouraged (or coerced) to go wild?[break][break]

If it is organised, the one pulling on these Toxic Chains certainly has an eye for mayhem. An army of Weezing meant to blow Slateport sky high… Simple, but effective.[break][break]

Alba is, of course, just a humble concerned citizen trying to do his part for the region. His Bellossom releases its Sleep Powder into the air, trying to lull the threat to slumber. It's quicker than fighting them the old fashioned way, and haste is the most important thing against something like this. He'd like all his limbs to remain intact, thank you very much.

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