~with Team Rocket~
My eyes snapped open—but to what?
Cold seeped into my bones. No warmth. No sound. Just a void that didn't feel like heaven or hell, but something else.
What happened?
Fragments of memory surfaced: the restaurant heist, the glittering jewel, that cursed black bag—then the vines. Oh god, the vines. They'd dragged me into the dark, and then—
Am I dead?
My breath hitched. Death wasn't supposed to hurt this much. A throbbing headache pulsed behind my eyes as I flexed my fingers. Still solid. Still alive. But nothing about this place felt right.
I pushed myself up, palms pressing into the ground. The soil was wrong—dark, purplish, lifeless. Like the earth itself had rotted.
Then I saw it.
The horizon was a nightmare.
Floating islands hung suspended in the air, their edges crumbling into the abyss below. The sky churned with colors that didn't exist—shifting, warping, as if reality had cracked open. And the water—if you could call it that—flickered in and out of existence, defying gravity itself.
My stomach lurched. This wasn't the world I knew.
This was something older.
And I had a sinking feeling I wasn't getting out.
Does a place like this even exist?
My breath came in short, panicked bursts as I scrambled to my feet. The others—where were the others? We'd been taken together, dragged into the dark by those writhing vines. They had to be here.
I couldn't bear the thought of being alone. Not here. Not in this... this wrongness.
Please, I begged silently, let them be here too.
Then—movement.
Figures stirred in the gloom, groaning as they pushed themselves up from the unnatural soil. One by one, my team emerged, their faces mirroring the same dazed horror I felt. The relief was so sharp it hurt. We weren't alone.
"Get up!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Everyone, wake up!"
They stirred, blinking at the nightmare around us. One rubbed his temples, wincing. Another pinched his own arm—hard—as if hoping to jolt himself awake.
"Where... are we?" someone whispered.
No one answered. What could we say?
"Maybe it's a dream," another muttered, half-laughing. "Some fucked-up shared nightmare."
A desperate theory. But then, nothing about this place obeyed reality. The sky churned above us, the ground beneath our feet felt both solid and not, and the air itself hummed with something ancient and hungry.
I dug my nails into my palm. The pain was real. The fear was real.
This was no dream.
And we were trapped here.
"...This isn't a dream."
The words tasted like ash in my mouth. Around me, my crew was unraveling—some shaking their heads in denial, others shouting at the floating islands defying gravity.
"Who the hell dragged us here?!" one screamed.
Then—
—"Me?"
The voice wasn't spoken aloud. It pressed into my skull, smooth and heavy, like oil seeping into water. My crew froze, eyes darting—they'd heard it too.
Then the sky moved.
A creature unlike any Pokémon I'd ever seen descended. Legless, winged, its body shifting between solid and shadow. Those weren't vines on its back—they were something else, twitching like living darkness.
—"Do you object to being summoned?"
I couldn't breathe.
Pokémon don't talk. Not like this. Not with words that slithered into your thoughts and sat there, digesting.
"Y-You can... speak?" I stammered.
Was it even a Pokémon? The way the air bent around it, the way my skin prickled—this felt like standing before something that had scraped the title of "god" from the bones of the universe.
If I escaped today, I'd never forget this.
If.
A cold realization settled in my gut: we weren't meant to leave. Not after seeing it. Not after knowing.
"Who... what are you?" I whispered, the politeness automatic. My instincts shrieked that disrespect would mean annihilation.
The thing's laughter wasn't sound. It was the sensation of teeth against your throat.
—"Would knowing change your fate?"
"What do you mean, nothing will change?"
The grunt's voice cracked. He knew what it meant—he just didn't want to believe it. The worst possibilities clawed at his mind, but he forced the question out anyway:
"...What are you going to do to us?"
The Things laughter was like the sound of a glacier splitting.
—"Entertain me. Then leave."
A flicker of hope? No. The two ghostly lights flaring behind the Legendary confirmed this was no mercy—just the prelude to a game.
(Giratina's POV)
The trap had been simple:
A suspicious bag (courtesy of Alakazam's illusions) placed just too perfectly.
Greedy fingers reaching for it.
The door slamming shut—Alakazam's psychic nudge.
Then, the vines. My vines.
The ones who hesitated—the "lucky" half left guarding hostages—would wake up in jail cells, remembering nothing. A kindness, really.
But these? The truly avaricious?
They were mine.
Palkia's voice cut through the void, dripping with faux innocence:
—"You summoned us for this? Playing human?"
A ripple of distortion. Giratina's form flickered—shadow to dragon, dragon to shadow.
—"You misunderstand," it purred. "This isn't play".
The vines tightened.
—"This is justice".
Palkia's voice dripped with childish petulance, belying its godly presence. If looks could kill, the Team Rocket grunts would have been erased from existence a dozen times over by now.
"Doesn't this seem fun to you?" It mused. "It's been ages since I've had proper entertainment."
Palkia's form flickered with irritation.
"Fun? You invaded my space."
"Correction: This is my domain. My home. You have your own."
"That's not the point! If we share the same space, doesn't that mean we're coexisting?"
I exhaled, the sound like distant thunder. Arguing with Palkia was like reasoning with a storm.
"Where's Dialga?" I deflected.
Palkia's glare could have shattered mountains—until a cheerful voice cut in.
"Here! Right here!"
Dialga trotted over, its usual regal demeanor replaced by something almost… playful. Its eyes sparkled with the excitement of a child showing off a new toy.
Humans revered us as gods—majestic, untouchable forces of nature. If only they could see Dialga now, nuzzling against Palkia like an overgrown Skitty.
Pathetic.
And yet… endearing.
A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the void.
Team Rocket had finally awoken.
One trembled, voice cracking. "T-This isn't a dream…"
Another gawked at the floating islands, the inverted waterfalls, the sky that pulsed like a living thing. "What the hell is this?!"
Their terror was delicious.
I tilted my head, watching them scramble like cornered Rattata.
Ah. This was fun.
How amusing, I mused, watching the humans scramble like startled Pidgey. Did they truly believe mere gravity could constrain a being of my power?
"Who the hell brought us here?!" one screamed, voice cracking.
Earthly. Pathetic.
With a single beat of my wings, I ascended, casting my shadow over them all. Their faces paled as comprehension dawned.
—"Me."
The word struck them like a thunderbolt. They stood frozen—no screams, no curses, just the silent tremor of mortal terror.
—"I summoned you. Do you object? "
"P-Pokémon can talk?!"
I let the question hang, watching their disbelief curdle into dread. Their first impression of me? Fear. Good.
"W-Who are you?"
—"Would knowing change anything?"
The truth was simple: once I finished with them, Alakazam would rewrite their memories into something harmless. But their trembling bodies told me they'd interpreted my silence differently—something far more final.
"…What are you going to do to us?"
—"Entertain me. Then leave."
A flick of my tail, and Palkia and Dialga materialized beside me.
One of the humans made a choked noise.
"T-That's… Palkia and Dialga…?"
Their knees gave out.
Perfect.
One of the grunts gasped, his whisper trembling with horrified recognition.
"That's… the gods of Space and Time…"
His companion didn't respond—too busy gaping at the deities looming before them.
Hmph.
Annoyance flickered through me. They knew Palkia and Dialga on sight, yet I remained a stranger? The great Giratina, relegated to a shadow in my own realm?
Fine. If they didn't know me yet, they'd learn. And what better way than through the legends they did revere?
—"Let's play a game," I purred, the words slithering into their minds.
The humans stiffened.
—"Between Palkia and Dialga… who do you think would win?"
Silence. Then—choked, wheezing breaths. The grunts clutched their throats as if the air itself had turned to poison.
—"Choose. Wisely."
My tail lashed, stirring the void. Surely you won't claim I'm the weaker one?
Palkia and Dialga snapped their attention to the humans, eyes burning. The space around Palkia's claws rippled, ready to slice apart reality itself. Dialga's crest glowed, time warping in its wake.
Spacial Rend.
Roar of Time.
Which annihilation would they prefer?
—"Decide quickly."
The grunts didn't scream. They'd run out of air to do so.