Perhaps not the right words to use, but Grigori had promised someone long dead to never tell a lie. He could not keep silent about the wayward complaints of a few grunts from time to time. Very valid ones.

“For you specifically, from me? Well… your new avatarship has… changed you,” he stopped alongside the man. “You are not as you were. It could simply be my perception of you as well. After all, it’s not as if we’ve interacted much after that infirmary room.”

Intentionally. Entirely personal. In Jayden’s defense, that went for about all the admins, beasts, and head scientists. Not a thing unique to him.

“Most of the opinions I could hope to form come from the idle chatter of those at the lowest rung,” Grigori reminded the admin. “Either overheard or otherwise.”

So what if some of the grunts confided in him about their complaints about their organization? He was well qualified to hear them out. When you’ve been at a place for thirty years, you start to pick up some things. Learn when to listen and forget the face of those who said it. Reminders to change the conversation topic when an admin or beast enters the room.

“Be it as it may, I am but one person here. If you want more opinions about your public perception, it might be best to ask numerous people. Those that are in your presence more than once in a power outage,” he gave a light smile. It hurt his soul to do so, but a little light-hearted humor might do wonders for that sudden dip in temperature.

He hoped the swarm of pinpricks on his skin were mostly concealed.

---

jayden cross

How the absolute fuck did they get away with that? Was all it took an unhealthy obsession with a police officer in order to get out of absolute arrest? This felt surreal. Grigori could only watch as the cop walked away, Howard started the car, and he was told to mail in a check for him.

“...Mr. Howard, who the heck was that? And why are you so obsessed with him,” he asked. However, he quickly followed it up with the shake of his head. “On second thought, I don’t think I want to know.”

He slumped in his chair, blood smeared on his face and a jacket way too small for him on his back. This was certainly a ‘good’ thing– not for society as a whole, but for the lot of them. Not because they broke the law, but because the driver probably had some relationship issues and formed one with someone that barely knew him. Even after he’d asked to check the trunk.

Grigori slurped from his near melted Freezy and contemplated the course of events that lead them here. “Well, Mr. Shred. I know there is a safe in there. Did you actually…?”

---

howard slayte Shred kyle lopez

“I wholeheartedly agree with your mentality to question,” Grigori cradled his mug with both hands, “But to do it for its own sake is where I begin to question.”

Lulu even said it herself: the powers at play that night were well beyond their grasp at the moment. By the time it wasn’t, it might already be too late. But if the interdream mist, and their own thoughts, were NOT the culprits… then they didn’t lose anything by learning about it. They had the manpower to explore both possibilities, and they should likely learn about the strange mist rather than pretend it wasn’t there.

“Perhaps... I can concede a point. Perhaps it doesn’t truly matter which is the answer, and we should simply explore both avenues as they are the one definite truth. Like the tera crystals you mention,” he said. “But… I doubt your idea alone will solve the issue.”

Did the tera crystals spawn the mist, or did the mist bring forth the crystals? A conundrum that would cause a great amount of stress for the scientists. After all, it did matter which spawned what: removing the crystals, only to find out that the mist is the culprit, would surely bring despair to those involved in the research.

"Which do you think came first: the egg? Or the Pokémon that laid it? If you remove the Pokémon, then the egg hatches and continues the cycle. Likewise: removal of the eggs do not stop the production of more. And to remove both is a monumental task..."

"A pessimist would likely call it impossible to achieve," Grigori sipped from his mug, eyes firmly on the bubbles that formed on the surface of the dark brown liquid. His thoughts wandered to a different conversation, one with BARNABY FINCH . One he wanted to forget, but stuck in the back of his mind. "Can we even hope to stop the cycle when those in power benefit from its continuation, even if not directly?"

The one thing about mutual destruction that the grunt hated the most: it was always those in the crossfire that suffered the most.

---

Lulu Flint

If Jayden’s clarification of the question was the pebble against Grigori’s window, then the question of promotion followed behind in the form of a brick. Beast? Considered quite the illustrious position by many a folk. Shred had received that title recently, and he seemed ecstatic by it.

“No more than a couple of times, and never longer than a minute,” the grunt said immediately. If there’s one thing he was relieved his younger self never did, it was seek higher positions. He already grew to loathe the terrible things he did at a grunt level nowadays, yet a Beast? Even more abhorrent.

While Grigori had resolved never to take his own life directly, the prospect of finding a shortcut off a skyscraper felt like a more worthwhile venture than Beast.

But those were not the words he used. “When I was younger, I enjoyed grunt work too much. In my older years, I’ve enjoyed the potential companionship that I could never hope to replicate in a managerial position.”

Not lies. Just an omission of truer sentiments.

“But the thought of my potential will be noted and kept in mind. As for the grunt training situation, my only thoughts are that it is not uncommon to hear the grunts complain about their bosses. Perhaps an examination of workplace etiquette is in order,” he said.

How they stripped them of their emotions and feelings. The bosses treated the grunts without any modicum of respect or dignity. But these things were better left on anonymous letters to HR.

There remained hope in this situation, however. Even with the poor quality of light provided by a Chandelure, Grigori could read the directional signs on the wall barely enough. They were nearly there. Only a little longer and he’d be free to walk away from Jayden and forget this ever happened.

“But if I may redirect the focus back to you, I’d like to hear your thoughts on the current Bosses and Beasts and what not,” he said carefully. “From what I recall, we’ve had quite the turnover in those positions as well.”

---

jayden cross

Top champion? Of what? Grigori remained further and further from the truth of the matter as Howard continued to gush to their potential guillotine. Maybe this had to do with some video game, and this cop was one of them ‘streamers’ that played to a live audience. But then… this looked terrible for Howard.

Did Howard have a parasocial relationship with a police officer?

He made a mental note to ask who that was after this encounter. For now, the grunt nodded along to the officer’s assessment of the driver’s enthusiasm. “Idolization only leads to disappointment and suffering.”

But they got their ticket. It looked like no one would actually check the trunk. Did they come out of this encounter unscathed? Some part of Grigori wanted the cop to check the trunk and arrest them all. After all, this was blatant theft and assault. The other part of him said to shut it and stay low profile.

He needed to take his mind off this low anxious feeling. So, he tried to peer over Howard’s shoulder. “Mr. Howard, how much did this… oh good heavens. Mr. Shred, do you see what I’m seeing on that ticket?”

That number was as the kids say, ‘Obscene’. Crazy. Could their driver even afford a price like that?

---

howard slayte Shred kyle lopez

Stable was the best Grigori could hope for, he supposed. An avatarship must take a lot of energy and willpower from you. Especially one like that. Best to not ask that sort of question to Jayden in the future. Inconsiderate.

Yet as they continued their walk through the terribly dark corridors, the boss sprung a question onto the grunt. One that made it feel like he hadn’t considered Grigori’s own time with the organization. “Training? Has there been an update to the procedure that no one told me about?”

“I’m not sure if I’m following along here about my training. Oh, wait, is it time for the Sexual Harassment class again? That does get done around the end or start of a year, doesn’t it…” Grigori stared thoughtfully into the pitch black.

If it wasn’t that, then what could he possibly have left for ‘training’? He wasn’t slated for a promotion anytime soon, and he’d just deny it like the other dozens upon dozens of times. Perhaps this was a trick question, or an opportunity to cut through the pitch black with sound and words. To make this less scary.

“I’ll do whatever is required for Team Rocket, but as far as I know I’m caught up and then some,” he said. Thirty years did that to you: any new procedure could very easily be the product of a deep file dive into things they did ten or twenty years ago. Regurgitated for ‘new’ use. Then discarded for the next new change.

“Unless something stood out in my file?”

---

jayden cross

Both of them were promoted? This is news, certainly. Perhaps even good, in the eyes of Shred. He looked on top of the world, and Grigori trusted that he knew it. Howard, though. He doesn’t look exactly pleased with the situation. Perhaps cigarettes were saved for the unspecial occasions after all.

But perhaps not all was storm clouds and colorless skies. A movement in his red coat got the grunts' attention away from the other two. Slowly, a mass presented itself and crawled its way up the chest area. As soon as it reached his neck, a small head popped out from his color. A Skitty, eyes barely open and a yawn on its lips.

Grigori rubbed its head while he fished out his own cigarette from his coat pocket. The last in the pack. The last forever, hopefully. He had already told the shop he bought it from to not sell him more. “Mr. Shred, you have my congratulations. The position is… well suited for a man of your, skills. You were practically born for it. I’m sure you’ll do adequate for the position.”

No lies told, no stains upon his conscious. “And Mr. Howard… well, I’m glad that…”

His mind went back to their conversation in Howard’s apartment. Hadn’t he promised to keep June safe? Was this what he meant? Doubts tickled the back of his head. Any hope to salvage his attempt at a congratulation fell apart.

“You’ll do great at whatever you set your mind to.”

Flick, Flick. The tube lit up, and smoke poured from its tip.

“So where does that leave our merry little group?”

---

Shred howard slayte

So she was concerned that the Megalopolans were naught more than a dream? A thing, an antagonistic force that sprung from the hearts and minds of those present? It sounded possible… but something bothered Grigori about the whole thing. Was it too convenient?

“But these aren’t some third-party eyewitnesses,” The grunt said. “It’s me. It’s you. We saw Megalopolans outside the cave system. The enraged bear was outside as well. I seriously don’t believe that those forces are separate from those found within the cave system either.”

Dreams being their reality? Who had dreamed up such a massive plot alone? No way it was one or two people alone that conjured up those forces, in such a high number, and also had a fascination with both interdimensional travel AND flying ships.

Or perhaps they did. There was no way for him to retroactively know such information. No one could, lest they gathered and did a collective survey to nail down the origin of each point during their time to a specific person. Maybe she was right: there was no way to know for certain.

But then… “I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Not to disrespect you, but your theory leaves a lot of uncertainties and leaves me feeling as if the point is to put a large question mark on the whole affair,” he said. At that point, what was there even to discuss? Grigori loved theory, and this theory sounded interesting. However, this instance put a foul taste in his mouth.

Like it was being used to cloud the water, rather than shine a light through the depths.

“Perhaps,” Grigori sighed, “let me ask you a question: If your theory is correct, what do you propose we do to address the problem? I am enjoying this conversation, yet I do not see how this helps the current predicament presented.”

---

Lulu Flint

Sugar the Skitty leisurely strolled across the top of the submarine. Numerous beings of unfathomable power dotted the landscape, alongside beings that should not exist. If this were a television series, or even an anime, there would be people frothing at the mouth to pit the Regice against the Genesect in a battle of power. Could a Flutter Mane beat a Zarude?

Yet she paid them no mind. Yes, give them a wide berth, but there were more important things to attend to. After all, it wasn't every day that her trainer lost track of her. Two peas in a pod. Never one without the other. Yet today would be that sweet, sweet exception. Even with the chill of a winter that should not be, the sun soaked everything in sight with a comforting heat.

A heat that Sugar would take in to the fullest she could. Once she found the driest, cleanest spot possible, she settled onto the dark metal. Hmmm, yes. Just that perfect temperature. And it was only going to get warmer.

Thus, she curled up for a nap. Warm light rays soaked into her pink and cream-colored fur. While the rest of the Pokémon dealt with the problem at hand, she fixed the one within. So long as nothing got too close and disturbed her, she was free to just relax as a feline did.

How was a tiny ball of fur like her supposed to clean a submarine any how?

---

Zev Harcourt howard slayte Shred Mirabella Fontaine Naomi Sato Tempest Quinn MARILYN HASEGAWA

“Scizor, no—”

Before the red insect could absolutely obliterate the owl, two things happened: said bird changed course right towards the other, much rockier bird, and that rockier bird chomped down on the Scizor’s extended claw.

“What the fuck?”

That’s all the words it could get out before ice crystals sprouted from the origin point. A chain reaction quickly took over, and before Grigori could react the metal was completely encased in ice. Like a statue, its last moments with a look of absolute rage and fury on its face.

For the grunt, though, a moment of realization. “Mr. Shred, Mr. Howard, that creature is using its powers on the Pokémon itself!”

That, or these Pokémon had both met and formed natural hatred for one another outside of his knowledge. His Scizor? Wouldn’t be a surprise, as it was the most angry and hateful of his roster. The other two? Unlikely. Impossible, even. Shirley was a sweet girl, and the Decidueye was… probably nice as well.

Grigori retreated his Scizor back. He needed another Pokémon out if he were to defeat this beast once and for all. But he needed something Stoic. Something with sense and reason in its bones. That ruled out Pumpkin… oh, Brick! His beloved Druddigon was the sensible one of the three. It would be the perfect Pokémon for the job.

So, Grigori reached for the balls on his belt and grabbed—

Huh? A flash of light stopped him dead in his tracks. One of the others must’ve sensed the commotion and wanted in on the fight. Perhaps worse, though, was that it wasn’t Pumpkin. Instead, a gleaming statue of gold erupted from the ball. Tall, proud, and—

It coughed violently. Loud, obvious hacks into one of its hands as it hunched over. After a few long, awkward seconds, it straightened back up. “Gholdengo, Gholdeno! Gholdengo Gholdengo—”

“—Stand to dust the space in there? Fuck’s sake.”

Its annoyance didn’t last long for forever; once it locked onto the other golden statue, its demeanor shifted to a much more hostile one.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Chester C. Coins. You bum,” It sniffed. Despite the cacophony of smells, it could smell the nicotine on the one in the jacket. It quickly back stepped to the man, opened one of his pockets, and stole a cigarette from the pack. “Think you could hide from your good ol’ pal Lenny?”

“Oh, but I changed my name,” It snapped his fingers, clearly wanting a lighter. “It’s Lenny L. Loanshark now. For my new business enterprise.”

“Hey, you,” it bumped Shred with its elbow, “you need a car? I can get you one for cheap. Works like a charm! No refunds, though.”

---

Shred howard slayte Elisabeth Fiorelli

How could Grigori not expect this outcome? “It can wait, Mr. Cross. Lead the way.”

At least he kept apprehension out of his voice with his answer, as Jayden led the way further towards the source of the power outage. He did admit, though, that there did seem to be an odd noise somewhere around this submarine. What it was, it might be the source of the lack of power.

As for how dangerous it could really be, that was the big question. Surely not bad enough for someone with a very dangerous feline within a Poke ball?

Oh well. Best to make the most of the situation. “So, Mr. Cross, how does your day go? Feeling alright?”

He did admit, the lights made navigation quite horrid. Things never felt as dark as they could be until truly experienced. It felt like walls stood all around him, ones that threatened to surprise the grunt with their realness at a moment’s notice. He could only imagine the potential terror of someone with claustrophobia.

Surely the power room was close by, right? There was only so much room on a submarine...

---

jayden cross

“Unfortunately, yes,” Grigori said with a sigh. “The spaceship did, in fact, disappear into nothingness. Alongside the tentacles that inhibited a select few of the people there.”

There wasn’t any clever rebuttal for this: those were lost to space, time, or a mix of them. As to how, or why, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Yet everyone else there had experienced the same trip and voyage aboard it.

And the tentacles… surely those afflicted wanted to forget it just as much as their attacked victims.

“But,” he raised a finger, “what you call ‘souvenirs’, many others would call hard evidence. Furthermore, there were many people there alongside us—witnesses to the events that unfurled. Even the strangers, as odd as they disappeared, had a physical presence before we even ventured into the cave system. Remember their ambush?”

Evidence upon evidence. Much like the theory of gravity, they could not physically prove it to be undeniably, one-hundred-percent true. Such is the nature of the science behind it. But there was simply too much evidence of its effects to deny it as a truth. Anyone who did such might be labeled as misguided at best.

“And the Three Day War as well… they’re a well-known quantity,” Grigori finished. “For all of this to be categorized underneath the label of a dream seems… what’s the word for it…”

“Dismissive?”

Grigori shook his head and took a quick sip of root beer. “I apologize if any of my words offend. It is not my intention. Maybe I’m… misunderstanding your argument here. Could you elaborate on your argument about dreams and reality? And how the events in the caves fall into that?”

Being kind felt harder and harder these days. It was hard to tell where one was being assertive and one was being unnecessarily aggressive. Maybe he needed to read that book on his shelf again...

---

Lulu Flint

Grigori did not respond to Admin Bee’s comment for one simple reason: he was not required to. He did not lie, but a lie required him to speak. Silence spoke volumes itself, but its need arose in situations like these. Words damned much harder.

But expressions spoke louder than both, sometimes. Such was the case when Bee gave the grunt a face of dismal hope. Like the environment sapped some strength from his boss to turn his eyebrows down and form a slight frown.

Should they even try?

“Of course,” Grigori responded brightly. He motioned to the ambient Pokémon that paid them little attention, to their surroundings, perhaps even to the world itself, “If not for us, then for all that live and die by our determination. I’d argue the survival of the universe would rise above the squabbles between us and the League.”

Dangerous words, but the harsh, hard truth. The cold universe cared little if they disappeared from it. A dozen deities would likely move on to other things in some other corner of the universe if they did not bother to recreate life as it was.

Death did not ask if they were yellow or purple as they lined up at the gates of hell.

“If it’s any consolation, the world would not remember our failure for long,” Grigori patted Bee on his shoulder. “Nor any of our numerous crimes.”

He did not bother to clarify if that was for the both of them, or just the one of them. That would absolutely paint him a traitor. Instead, he readjusted the strap on his bag. “Who knows? Maybe our attempt to save this world would counter-balance the many things we’ve done.”

“Speaking of,” Grigori let go and gave the man an arm's length of distance. “May I reverse the question again? Even though I suspect to know your answer, I am curious if yours has nuance.”

Soon, they would be inside the lair. Perhaps a self-imposed feeling, but he swore the air grew more electrifying the deeper they traversed. Like physical TV static that permeated the senses. Was the bird inside the power plant with them?

---

BARNABY FINCH