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Dave let out a tense breath that shook, and abandoned whatever he might have been planning to say in favor of silence. They just had to make it in time, while there was still anything left of him to salvage. <><><><><>

Dave nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, as soon as I can. Don’t go shooting anyone, okay? It, it just adds more shit we’d have to deal with. It’d just make it take longer.” It felt almost like arguing with Mia, in a way. A spot of comfortable familiarity in the middle of absolute batshit. “Take care.” He...

Dave's gut clenched at Soda's hesitation. A thread to pull on, and yet, the Zoroark felt so fragile, teetering on a knife's edge, like any pulling on the thread might unravel him entirely. He took a step back. "Yeah. You know, yeah, sometimes I do want that. But I can't come with you right now...

Dave stared at him, and at his outstretched hand, a tightness in his chest. What the fuck. What the fuck. "Soda, there's... there's another thing I wanted to ask you," he said, and couldn't keep his voice from wavering. "I talked to your Substitute, the one who's keeping an eye on Flesh. He...

Oh, right, my mate and my old world and stuff, yeah. That. A deep chill went through Dave. This wasn't fucking Soda anymore. How would Yellow react if he were here, after he'd attacked him just for saying her name like it doesn't matter? Fuck. Fuck. He inhaled sharply through his nose. "What...

Still didn't want to think very hard about the bits he didn't remember, huh. Dave wanted burningly to get him to confront all the glaring holes in his memory and motivations, but on the other hand Soda Prime had the power to fucking level Destiny Village with his moon cannon, and was so hopped...

Dave narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean, seemed like?" Green had mentioned his mind was fuzzy on this too, but he hadn't described slapping power onto Owen for safekeeping at all - just wiping his memory. Did Prime remember shit Green didn't, or was one of them lying?

Dave hesitated a moment. "No. He'd been acting a bit weird, then we took a psychic trip into his mind to unlock that memory block on him and help him kill the thing." He kept a wary eye on Soda, for how he reacted. Would he admit it'd been him? Should he actually press him if he didn't? "If you...

Dave's ears perked. So Soda knew someone else was behind the Mewtwo, someone who wasn't Giovanni. Someone who used Substitutes too, or at least split up into multiple beings. "See, I don't think that's fucking boring. If he's split up and has brain parasites at large in people, he's still...

And what, that was it? No remorse or even hesitation, just tips? Dave kept his gaze on Soda, wary. "I came here to check on you," he said after a second. "We're pretty sure Giovanni's Mewtwo is a lot stronger than he seemed. He planted some kind of mind-control parasite in Owen that we managed...

Dave's gut clenched. A fucking warning shot, indeed. "Well, Deoxys got pretty good and vaporized too. He's not dead but he's reduced to a fucking orb. Doesn't seem easy to bring him back. Unless you know a better way."

His charisma. Sure. He tried to wet his drying mouth. "So the other day a few of us were trying to approach the moon, see what was going on. Deoxys, Vix, some familiars. They got shot down by some kind of Blacklight cannonblast. Was that you? Or the Unown? Or somebody else?"

Dave stared at Soda for a moment. He sounded jarringly normal, for somebody whose brain was a fucking glass shard spiderweb surrounded by fucking Unown on the goddamn Moon. "We're... fine." God, what the fuck. He hesitated for a long moment. "Is it just you and the Unown up there? How'd you get...

It was him. He was there. And not... some kind of Unown puppet, or whatever the hell he'd been starting to imagine. He let out a breath. "Hey. You all right? What's the deal with the Unown?"

Well, that sure didn't sound like any part of Soda's plan. Dave's pulse pounded uncomfortably in his technically immaterial throat. "Creating what? He doing that for you?"

Dave squinted at the lights ahead. "Busy with what?"

This was incredibly fucking trippy. The Unown weren't speaking so much as creating a silent mental impression, a thought that wasn't his own just present in his head. "Is he there? Alive?"

Dave's ears stood up pin-straight. "Hear what?" He stared into the void. "Soda?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Dave growled. His heart had been hammering sickeningly the entire way there, and something about this place seemed to make every hair on his body stand on end in anticipation of something, and why the fuck was his body doing anything at all in fucking Spirits' Edge, that didn't...

"I mean, I see what you mean about the fucking mind-reading." This was what he'd been doing to Brisa constantly, whenever he pleased? What a prick. He squinted at the photograph she showed him. Christ. Some kind of mental manifestation? Well, whatever else he could say about the fucker, and...