Scizor walked beside me, silent as ever, wings folded tight against his back. The glow from his thrusters flickered faintly with each step.
"You were incredible today," I said. "But we need to keep sharpening that speed. Burgh's arena made it obvious that if you can move just a fraction faster, you'll outpace anything short of a teleport."
He glanced at me, the faintest nod.
We cut through a narrow row of trees into a secluded park. Many of the parks in New York had been reinforced by the PAP council for trainer use, a smooth stretch of soft turf framed by benches and old iron lamp posts. The park's maintenance drone hovered nearby, scanning idly as I activated its shield dome. A translucent shimmer enclosed the field, sealing us in.
The clock on my PokéGear read 3:04 p.m.
"Three hours," I said. "Let's move."
Scizor stepped forward as the PAP drone's voice chimed: "Simulation mode: agility tier four. Commencing."
A series of red discs materialized in midair, darting erratically across the field. Scizor's thrusters ignited with a low, metallic hiss.
Short bursts, I reminded him. Don't chase, anticipate.
He vanished. One instant, he was standing still; the next, he was a blur of red metal and vapor trails. The first disc shattered into sparks, the second a heartbeat later.
He pivoted, slid across the grass, then launched upward, cleaving through a cluster of targets that scattered like startled birds.
By the time he landed, three more discs were converging on him from different angles. He boosted sideways, narrowly dodging two, but the third clipped his shoulder.
Again, I projected, my tone firmer. You saw it coming. Trust the motion.
Scizor steadied, claws flexing. The thrusters on his back pulsed once, twice, and then, he split.
For a second, I thought my vision blurred. There were two of him, then three, all darting in perfect synchronization. They cut across the field, claws striking with surgical precision until every target had shattered.
The holograms flickered out, and the drone's monotone voice followed:
"Technique registered. Double Team added to Scizor's move set."
Scizor landed hard, chest heaving, the faint heat from his armor turning the drizzle on the shield's surface into steam.
I grinned. "You've been holding out on me."
He tilted his head, one claw raised as if to shrug.
I powered down the dome and sank onto the nearest bench, still catching my breath. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and ozone. My reflection rippled faintly on the damp glass of my phone screen as I unlocked it and searched for Pokémon with a red collar.
Thousands of irrelevant results, fan art, rumor threads, and fake sightings, but when I narrowed the filters to verified documentation, one name kept surfacing.
Darkrai.
I frowned. "No way."
The entry described a crimson haze that sometimes formed around Darkrai's neck when it entered a heightened emotional state. Scholars called it a collar of rage, a visual bleed of nightmare energy.
I stared at the glowing text until the words blurred. "It wasn't that," I whispered. "It couldn't have been."
Darkrai, the nightmare Pokémon. The idea was ridiculous.
Still, the memory from the gym's projection wouldn't leave me. The park. My mom. The swing set. The red.
The first droplets of rain struck the screen, scattering the reflection. I looked up. The sky had gone a deep, bruised gray. The clock read 6:02 p.m.
"Alright, big guy," I called. "That's enough for today."
Scizor powered down his thrusters, steam curling from the vents in his armor. We started back toward the hotel, the rain picking up until it was a steady, whispering sheet. The streets glowed with reflected light, orange and blue, the faint pulse of the city breathing beneath the storm.
I told myself the weight in my chest was just exhaustion. That the strange, cold pull in the back of my mind was nothing. I could hear Scizor's metallic footsteps a few paces behind me.
Then they stopped.
The abrupt silence caught my attention. I turned.
He stood a few paces back, motionless, optics glowing faint amber as they swept across the tree line on the far side of the street.
"What is it?" I asked, taking a step toward him.
He didn't answer.
Just as he began to lower into a fighting stance, a searing orange light ripped through the rain.
I couldn't even call out before the Hyper Beam landed dead center. The sound tore through the park, a roaring, metallic crack that drowned out my own scream. Scizor was thrown backward like a rag doll, the impact ripping him off his feet and launching him through the brick wall of a nearby building. Masonry and dust erupted into the rain.
I stumbled back, shielding my face from the blast wind. My ears rang. Through the haze of dust and rain, three figures stepped out from behind the trees.
Black-and-blue armor with visored helmets. The same style of the thugs that attacked us at the Pier-19 Warehouse. But something stood out: each of them now wore a stylized emblem of a blue shield.
Their Pokémon, a Rhyperior, Drapion, and Dusknoir, were already on the field, forming a wall between me and the wreckage of the building. Rhyperior's horn still glowed orange from the beam discharge, smoke coiling from its nostrils.
My stomach twisted. "You're the ones from Pier Nineteen."
The lead grunt tilted his head slightly, voice distorted through his mask.
"Smart girl."
I raised my voice, forcing strength I didn't feel. "I'm not letting you take him back."
A dry laugh came from under his helmet.
"Take him? Oh no, sweetheart. We're not here for the Scizor."
He stepped closer through the rain.
"We're here for you."
I blinked, water streaking down my face. "What?"
A sharp sound cracked through the air, bricks shifting. I turned just in time to see Scizor burst through the hole in the wall, battered but standing. His chest plate was scorched black where the Hyper Beam had hit, vents sparking faintly, but his eyes burned bright gold.
He stepped between me and the grunts, stance low and wide.
The two on the flanks moved instantly, their Drapion and Rhyperior spreading out to engage him. Drapion's tail snapped forward, dripping with venom. Rhyperior's footfalls shook the pavement as it charged.
"Scizor!" I shouted. "Keep them off me!"
He launched forward in a blur, venting bursts of steam as he dodged Drapion's stinger and countered with a claw strike. Sparks and sludge filled the air.
I reached for my belt, fingers brushing Trilla's Poké Ball.
The third grunt caught the movement.
"Dusknoir, disable her."
The ghost turned toward me. Its single red eye glowed purple.
Pain detonated through my head.
I screamed before I even realized I was on my knees. The world fractured, color, sound, thought, all shredded at once. My telepathic sense, that constant hum of life I'd always known, went dead in an instant.
I couldn't hear anything. Just the raw pressure of something ripping me apart from the inside.
"Stop!" I choked out, clutching my temples. "Get out of my head!"
The Dusknoir floated closer, silent except for the low, droning hum of psychic interference. Every heartbeat made my vision pulse white.
Through the agony, I picked out the clash of metal.
I forced my eyes open just long enough to see Scizor pinned beneath Drapion's tail, the barbed stinger buried deep between his shoulder plates. He struggled, thrusters sputtering, claws scraping uselessly against the ground.
Rhyperior loomed above him, horn beginning to spin, glowing with another charge.
One of the grunts barked over the storm,
"Kill it! We only need the girl alive!"
"No!"
I tried to move, but my limbs didn't listen. I was barely conscious, the world dimming at the edges. The hum from Rhyperior's horn grew louder, building toward another Hyper Beam.
And then…
Everything went dark.
The rain froze in the air, every droplet suspended midfall. The light from Rhyperior's horn cut out like a blown fuse as the darkness enveloped us.
Then came the screaming. Human at first. Then Pokémon.
I forced my head up.
All I saw were silhouettes and the flash of movement as a blur of darkness bent the light around it. Rhyperior fell first, armor split open like tin. Drapion tried to retreat but was yanked into the shadows and silenced. A wet crack sounded off like a gunshot, and its silhouette crumpled, head facing the wrong direction.
The Dusknoir floated backward, trembling as its glow flickered. Then suddenly, a black tendril erupted from below it and dragged it down into the asphalt as if the ground had become liquid. My blood went cold when I saw the figure of one of the armored grunts get split down the middle just as another had her head plucked from her torso.
The light returned as the streetlights lit up once again. I expected there to be bodies, but the sidewalk was empty. The only sign that the ambush had even happened was the hole in the shop that Scizor had been launched through.
Then I heard him.
He was still breathing, ragged and shallow, but alive.
I crawled to him, my body shaking. His armor was scorching hot to the touch, vents flickering weakly. The rain hissed against him, steam rising in ribbons.
"You're okay," I whispered, more to convince myself. "You're okay. Please be okay."
He didn't move, but a faint whir came from his chest, a dying engine refusing to quit.
I looked up and saw the faint glow of a neon cross cutting through the downpour, a Pokémon Center sign, no more than five hundred feet away. Thank God we were in New York, which had dozens of them scattered around.
Five hundred feet.
I swallowed hard, adrenaline mixing with nausea. My body still burned from Dusknoir's psychic backlash, my head spinning every time I blinked.
"Hang on, big guy," I muttered, gripping his claw. "I've got you."
It took everything I had to get him onto his feet, but his weight dragged me down almost instantly. He was over two hundred pounds of steel.
"Okay," I breathed, teeth gritted. "We're doing this the hard way."
I hooked my arms under his and started pulling, screaming in pain as the heat from his armor scorched my arms.
The asphalt tore at my knees. Every step forward was agony. My muscles screamed, my vision blurred, but I kept dragging him.
A hundred feet. Fifty feet.
My lungs felt like fire, and my arms were shaking violently, but I refused to stop.
"Come on," I whispered. "Come on…"
By the time I reached the crosswalk, my legs gave out completely. I dropped, gasping, forehead pressed to the wet asphalt. The Center was so close, the doors glowing faint red through the curtain of rain.
I forced myself up again, grabbed Scizor's arm, and pulled. My shoulders screamed as my hands slipped on wet steel, but I didn't let go.
When I finally stumbled through the automatic doors, I collapsed to my knees.
"Help!" I screamed, voice raw. "Somebody help him!"
Two nurses and an Audino rushed forward immediately. Scizor was hauled onto a gurney, sparks still flickering across his armor.
As they wheeled him toward the back, another nurse hurried to my side. She stopped dead when she saw my arms.
"Oh my God! Those burns!"
I blinked down. The adrenaline that had carried me here was fading fast, replaced by waves of pain that spread like fire beneath my skin. Blisters had already risen across both forearms, angry red and seeping where his superheated armor had torched me.
"I didn't even," I started, voice breaking. "I didn't feel it."
"Come with me," the nurse said firmly, hooking an arm under mine. "Now."
I nodded weakly, but as she helped me to my feet, a cold spike of realization hit me.
"Wait, my Pokémon ."
She frowned. "What?"
"Simon and Trilla. Their Poké Balls, I left them. At the park."
My stomach twisted. In my mind, I could still see them sitting there, glinting under the streetlight before everything went black.
But the nurse turned and pointed toward the waiting area.
"Are those them?"
Two Poké Balls sat on one of the lobby chairs, mine. But they weren't the way I'd left them. A thick, black-and-purple residue oozed from the seams, spreading like ink down the glossy red surface and dripping onto the upholstery. The air above them shimmered faintly, distorting the light like heat off asphalt.
I stumbled forward and scooped them up. The spheres were ice-cold to the touch. "What the hell…" I muttered, wiping the viscous fluid onto my shirt until the metal shone again. The stain smeared across the fabric, leaving faint violet streaks that seemed to pulse for a second before fading.
"Easy," the nurse said, sliding an arm around my shoulders. "You're in shock. Let's get you on a gurney."
She guided me toward the far wall, and I let her, every step heavier than the last. My burns throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
As she helped me onto the gurney, something outside caught my eye. Through the glass doors, across the rain-slick street, a figure hovered in the downpour.
It wasn't standing, it was floating, its shape barely visible through the haze. Wisps of smoke streamed upward from its body like a living flame turned inside out. Around its neck glowed the faint outline of a pulsing red collar.
The world tilted.
The nurse said something I couldn't hear as the edges of my vision closed in. My last conscious thought was the sound of rain against the glass and the echo of my mother's voice, faint and distorted, calling my name.
Then everything went dark.