Pokémon PMD: Below

[BestLizard]

Below

The world of Pokemon lives in a cruel underground world with no known escape.

The heroes of Team Surface dream to reach the surface and embrace its mythicized freedom, but such adventure ensnares them in a sinister conspiracy surrounding the humans before them. Can they cut through the mysteries and reach the surface, or will the savagery of their world consume them?​

Spoiler: Content warnings

there's plenty of blood and some bruises but no gory guts. The most graphic violence is someone losing a hand. I do detail characters' suffering pain though, and their reactions may get uncomfortable for some people. There's also swearing.

Spoiler: Acknowledgements

I want to give thanks to my official beta readers TrueBrush (PMD Crux of the Self) and Makkuro Kiba (PMD A Keeper's Promise). I also want to give thanks to friends who read snippets or beta read specific chapters: GumPlum (PMD Free Fiction), Jusmove (PMD: R&D), PunninOtter, and HermitSpy (PMD Fallen Down)

---

Art by Dom

Chapter 1
Layla​

Mark’s consciousness stirs.

He opens his eyes, but sees nothing as darkness drowns his vision. He tries to move his limbs, but they’re bound together by something that feels like rope. He squirms and struggles to loosen it, but a sharp pain wells up in his side. He bites his lip, lurches inward, and passes out.

…

He stirs again. The pain has reduced to a warm, dull glow. Taking care not to upset his injury, he wiggles his toes and fingers, then moves his limbs against the bonds.

They are still bound too well, and moreover, his body feels off - it's unfamiliar and small. He chalks it up to a trick of his mind; perhaps a drug circulating through his body.

Mark takes a deep breath - he knows he’s not going to get free, so the next best thing he can do is stay calm and get a bearing of his surroundings. He cranes his head around as much as he can - everything is too dark to see, save for a single orange glow above him. It’s faint and cuts off with a sharp edge - there is something in front of the light that he can’t make out, but that’s all he sees.

He uses his other senses. He sniffs and discerns two smells: a musty, earthly smell; and the smell of blood. His heart hammers as his imagination play out worst-case scenarios. He takes a sharp breath to push them out and focuses on using the last tool he has. He brushes his head against the floor; the ground is rough and rocky against his skin.

He must be in a cave. But why am I here? he thinks. He explores his mind, working out what he was doing last. He digs and digs through everything he knows, upturning facts and knowledge until he comes to a morbid realization - his memories are gone.

Not just of what he did last, but of anything - spending time with his family, laughing with friends, working hard and earning big. There's only information in his head like the various species of Pokemon and human anatomy. All he can say of himself is that he’s named Mark Llewellyn, a human adult.

“HELP!” he shouts, and seethes when the pain flares up again. There is no response.

“No… No… no… HELP ME! PLEASE HEEEELP!” Mark shouts, and flails and squirms against the rope. He gnashes his teeth and curls in as the soreness punctures him deep. He breathes and winces tight until finally, the agony passes.

It’s hopeless. The best he can do is bide his time instead and stop thinking about why he’s here and why he smells blood.

…

His head perks up when he hears a vague, distant racket. There is a new orange light projecting against the ceiling and its stalactites. It illuminates the rim of a large hole ahead of him, down the tunnel. There are muffled voices.


This is his chance.

“HEEEEEEELP!” he shouts, gnashing his teeth to ward off the torture. There’s dreadful silence. With both panic and pain invading him, he tenses his whole body and starts crying.

Not like this… Not like this… Not like this… In… Out… In… Out… He musters all his remaining strength and shouts help one last time. He’s overwhelmed by pain after this and screams until he’s out of breath. He holds himself as still as he can, and accepts he can’t push himself any further.

“Please don’t let me die here…” he whispers to no one.

A torch is thrown over the lip of the hole. One endlessly apprehensive moment passes and the head of a Sneasel pops up.

“You need heeeeelp?” she says in a cheeky tone.

She swings a leg over the ledge and pulls herself up onto the ground. A bag held by a strap stretches across her torso and over her shoulder. She picks up the torch and walks to him.

A figure behind Mark is illuminated when she’s close enough. It is a Gallade lying face-down, unmoving with blood pooling beneath him. A satchel lies above his head. It isn’t the corpse that terrifies Mark most though - it’s his own body.

It isn’t his own.

He expected to see the arms and legs he is familiar with. Instead, his body is short, shadowy, monstrous, and a splotch of a brown-red bruise that stretches across his flank beneath the rope.

“Ah!? What happened to me?!? What am I?” He says, moving to get a better look of himself. It makes him wince again.

“What do you mean? You’re a Sableye, and it looks like you fell from quite high. Heh, but you don’t have to worry, cause you got me. I am the best, and you bet my heart is even larger than my amazing talent.” she proclaims. Her claw holds her hip with pride and a smirk stretches across her face.

“Please help me…” Mark mutters.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I gotcha.”

She tosses the torch onto the ground and brings her sharp claws into the bindings. The pressure around his limbs loosens as she tears them with ease, although Mark hesitates to move his body once he’s free. He can’t upset his horrid injury any further.

The Sneasel then drops her bag in front of her and digs through it. While she searches, she asks “So, how did you end up like this? What the hell did you two do?”

Mark shakes his head. “I… don’t know. I can’t remember anything. I’m not even sure where I am.”

“Mmm… Must have hit your head pretty hard then. Here,” she says, pulling out a blue-tinted mushroom and holding it in front of his mouth.

Mark stretches his neck out and nibbles the fungus. Its texture is soft and its taste bitter, but he forces himself to swallow it anyways. Immediately, the warmth on his side ebbs and strength returns to him. It’s miraculous! He’s healed enough that he grabs the fungus from her and devours the rest on his own.

With it fully consumed, he sits up and looks down at his body. The ugly colours have left, leaving only his ghostly purple skin and gems embedded into his chest. He pats himself over to assure this body is real, which it is, no matter how much his mind urges otherwise. Then a large, beige mushroom falls into his lap.

“Eat this too, you’ll need your strength,” she says.

Mark nods, and starts eating it. It has a weak taste which reminds Mark of multivitamins. Meanwhile, the Sneasel heads over to the Gallade, ducking down to look at him. Mark cranes his neck to watch while snacking on this large mushroom. He then realizes just how badly he is starving, and wolfs down the rest. The mushroom is incredibly filling.

“Hmm, don’t think I can help your buddy though,” she says. She rolls his body over with the tip of her claws, exposing his front. It's just as grossly bruised like Mark was and he also has scratches over his skin, dried blood splotches everywhere, and the fur on his leg is scorched. His eyes are lifeless.

“Heehee… I’m going to take his stuff!” she says with an evil chuckle.

She picks up the Gallade's satchel and starts prodding through it. Her face is stunned.

“Woah, this guy knew what he was doing! This is gold! WAIT, WHAT?” She pulls out a small thumb drive from deep within it. She looks at it with amazement. Mark peers at it curiously.

A deep masculine voice reverberates from afar, saying “There. You see that orange light? She probably climbed up there. Deryl, Monica, fly up there!”

The Sneasel hastily packs up the Gallade’s bag and tosses the bag she was wearing onto Mark’s shoulders. Mark looks around, disoriented by his sudden new accessory perfectly landing on him.

“What’s going on?” Mark says, but the Sneasel runs up to him and forces him onto his feet. He wobbles and teeters wildly. She pulls his arm and he falls onto his front with a grunt.

“Hey! What’s wrong? We need to flee from them!” she says.

“I don’t know how to use my legs…”

She looks to the hole she climbed up from and then back to Mark. Stomps echoed from afar. She sighs, ducks down, and props him up. He throws his arm over her shoulders. This helps his balance, although his legs fumble when she starts running deeper into the cavern.

“Hey, thanks for everything…” Mark says.

“What? Praising me now? Ok, but my name’s Layla, so use that to shower me with worship, alright?” she says.

“Okay.”

Mark catches more of the cave they’re in while they flee. The stone is a grey-brown hue and stalactites hang sporadically from the ceiling. There aren’t any other features; not that he could see any that may be there, as the torch only illuminates an underwhelming radius around them - it barely reaches the ceiling of the tunnel. Everything is pitch black beyond that.

“Wait, here!” Layla says. She stops, almost forcing Mark to fall over again. She goes left and enters a tunnel cut into the side. It's only twice as tall as them, and unusually circular. There’s a set of perfectly-cut stairs leading down.

“THERE!” a deep feminine voice shouts far behind them.

Layla swears and plunges further in. Mark trips a few times on these stairs, but she catches him each time.

---

They enter a large cavern. Two humongous green, glowing mushrooms sprout in the far corners, reaching so high that their caps push against the ceiling. Smaller mushrooms decorate near their bases. There are many stalactites and stalagmites filling the space which casts ominous shadows by both the glowing fungi and their torches as well. Littering the walls are tunnels of various sizes.

“Damn,” Layla says. “You’ll have to memorize where we came from, ok?”

She runs across the cavern, weaving around the stone pillars until she reaches a small hole in a wall. He tries to keep a mental map of the path they’re taking, but moving his new legs takes too much mental energy and he’s lost when they enter the tunnel.

It's a winding corridor, but when they pop through the exit, they’re in another cavern with glowing teal mushrooms growing on the sides and even on the ceiling.

There are far fewer stalagmites on the ground and a lone Aron is exposed. It spots the pair and charges at them.

“Hey! We have no business with you!” she shouts, but it doesn’t stop. She sighs and lets go of Mark to run up and punt it away. It flies through the air and hits the stem of a mushroom, but it gets right back up once it hits the ground. She dashes up to it to slash its exposed underbelly.

Mark is alone. He teeters to his side. It feels like every time he shifts his weight, he’s directing his body where to fall over. In a desperate bid to get control, he bends his legs and hunches over. He’d thought this would be goofy, but instead, it's natural. He takes a step forward - yeah, this is how it's done, he thinks.

Layla returns, claws tipped red. The Aron is behind her lying unconscious and bleeding. She has an excited look on her face - probably adrenaline. She grabs his forearm.

“Think you got your legs working again?” she asks.

“Uh-” Mark says, looking down at his legs. Layla suddenly pulls his arm, forcing him to take a step forward - he catches himself.

“Oh good! Let’s go! And forget about remembering where we came from, this is a Mystery Dungeon,” she says, before running with his arm held in her claw. Mark nearly trips and flails his legs to keep up, but he does it.

She runs up to a hole in the ground; there’s a brilliant yellow mushroom at the bottom. She jumps in, still holding onto Mark, so he falls in as well.

He yells and bounces on the soft cap. It's tilted, so Mark starts slipping down it. He thrashes his arms and legs trying to sink his claw into the surface. It's no use; he slips all the way to the edge - and his feet find ground. He sighs. Above him, Layla’s sliding down it with a stupid grin.

“Don’t do that, please!” he shouts.

She only responds with a giggle, soon landing a few feet away from him. “Sorry Sableye, but that’s going to throw them off the trail by lots”

She begins to walk up to him, but Mark doesn’t even get this chance to relax as a shrill voice above him screams. A bug lands on Mark’s head. He shakes his whole body until he flings it off himself. The Nincada gets back onto his feet and bolts towards Mark.

As the Aron does so, a shadow stretches below Mark. He’s not sure how he’s doing it, but he feels like he’s projecting fear and malice towards the bug-type. Whatever is the case, a menacing, phantasmic claw reaches out from the depths of the shadow and fiercely swipes the bug. It falls over and faints. Mark exhales.

Layla pats his shoulder. “Hot stuff,” she says.

“Eh?” he asks, but she grabs his arm, pulling him along again. Once more he nearly trips, but the bent-knee trick is really helping him stay on his feet.

Layla enters another winding tunnel. The exit puts them high above a massive cavity. Large blue, green, and purple mushrooms sprout out from walls so incredibly far away that their luminescence doesn’t light the whole area. Mark can’t even see the floor - he even questions if they’re in a bottomless pit. There’s still a path to be made through here though: red mushrooms extend high up from the darkness, each successive cap descending.

“Sorry to do this again, but we can’t risk them catching up!” she says. Before Mark can process what she’s apologizing for, she jumps off with him. He yells and tumbles against the cap - it'd hurt him if its surface weren't so soft.

“Come on! I think we’re nearly at the end of this Mystery Dungeon!” she says, pulling him back up.

He follows Layla once more. Jumping down onto the next cap is less intense than the first, but he holds his breath each time either way. They repeat this, following the road of fungi down into the darkness. They approach the final mushroom - its glowing gap illuminates a tunnel entrance suspended in the side of the wall. However, there’s a wide gap between the final mushroom and the one they’re on.

“We’ll have to jump,” Layla says, offering an affirmative nod. Mark nods back.

The two back up. “We’ll start running and I’ll count down. When I say ‘jump’, we jump. Ok?” she says.

“Umm…” Mark murmurs, looking out to the distant platform. He clenches his fists and gives a shaky nod. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Okay…” she says, and ramps her speed up into a full sprint. Mark puts all his focus into moving his legs, forcing them to hold him up despite the squishy, uneven surface. Layla counts down, and when they approach the ledge, she shouts “JUMP!”

They hurl themselves into the void and they feel weightless for what feels like an eternity. Mark yells, believing they’re going to miss, but they land right at the ledge. He grunts and scrambles his arms as fast as he can, finding purchase by digging his claws into the mushroom’s flesh- his feet are dangling over the edge.

He pulls his body onto the cap and pants. Layla crawls up beside him and giggles, which infects Mark with laughter of his own. Eventually, she gets back up and offers a hand. “Come on, I think we’re near safety.”

“Yeah,” Mark says, getting himself up. They both run to the opening and jump into it, leaving the void behind.

This newest tunnel extends downward in a straight line. It leads to a long cave with a dense field of stalactites and stalagmites. Its ceiling is the lowest of all the large rooms they have been through. Copious vivid red mushrooms line its walls, basking the tunnel in a menacing crimson hue.

Layla swerves through the complicated maze of spikes which just keeps going on. Mark wonders how far this “Mystery Dungeon” goes on for, but he gets his answer as they step into a clearing with a wide pit on the other side.

“I think this is the end,” she says, walking up to the pit and peering down. Its maw is about twenty meters wide and its walls are smooth with few footholds. There is a red light at the bottom. There are no other exits around them save for where they came from.

They both hear the deep voice from before. “This must be the end. We’ll trap them here.”

“Fuck! We took too long. Sableye, we’ll fight them!” she says.

Layla tosses her torch aside which clacks against the rough floor. She gets onto her knees and sets the satchel in front of her. She digs through it, sorting through different mushrooms and small spheres. “There will be a Gligar and a Flygon. I’ll take on the Flygon with the sleep and blast spores the Gallade had. You’ll need to distract the Gligar, ok?” she says. She pulls out a small golden-tinted spore, and cautiously slips it under her tongue.

“I don’t want to fight,” Mark says. He looks into the field of stone spires - the flickering of torchlight filters through the rocks.

“They’ll kill us. They aren’t nice and they’re out for revenge, so they won’t make things pretty,” she says. She organizes her satchel, with blue mushrooms, soft pink spores, and spores that Mark swears pulse orange and yellow arranged at the top. She swings the bag over her shoulders and forms a defensive stance.

The two pursuers finally make it through the rock field. The Gligar has a rigid stance, and he holds his torch low to the ground. His tongue hangs out. The Flygon beside him is many feet above Mark. She points her torch towards Mark.

“Who are you?” she says.

Mark opens his mouth only for Layla to answer. “He’s my friend! You’re outmatched by the both of us!”

The Flygon glances at her then back to Mark. “Do you have any business with her?”

Mark isn’t sure what to say, but Layla answers for him once more. “I saved his life on my way here. That’s business enough.”

“Sableye! Don’t throw your lot with her just because she saved you. She’s a thief and she killed one of us already. Stand by and we’ll bring you to safety afterwards.”

Mark is stunned silent.

“He was going to kill me! Sableye, these people have harmed and killed so many in the underground! They are not good people!” Layla shouts with conviction. She turns to look at him, shoulders drooping when she sees the hesitation in his body language.

“No, Mark, please… I need you. I don’t want to die now!” Layla says. The clear desperation in her eyes stings Mark, yet he can barely bring himself to breathe. He looks back at the Flygon, who gives her final warning:

“Sableye. Stand by, or we’ll have no choice but to assume you’re an accomplice and take you out as well. This is only between her and us.”

Mark’s chest is tense. He glances between the threatening face of the Flygon and the desperate plea in Layla’s eyes. He can’t decide.

“MOVE NOW!” the Flygon shouts.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 2
Team Surface
​

Mark takes a deep breath and walks to Layla’s side. He holds his arms up in a clueless stance.

“Thank you…” Layla whispers.

The Flygon growls. She launches towards Layla, rearing a swipe. Layla meets this attack by throwing a spore from her bag that pops in the dragon’s face in a puff of white mist. The attacker stumbles back, eyes lidding, movement getting weak…

“THE GLIGAR!” Layla shouts. She bites a different kind of spore into which spits a fiery blast at the Flygon.

The Gligar glides to the Sableye. Mark tenses up and pounces at him to sink his claws into his flesh. The bat wallops him with his claw, flinging him off.

One more explosion illuminates the brawl when Layla eats another blast spore. Mark scurries onto his feet while Gligar chases him down, snapping his claws. He sneaks a shadow onto the ground which swipes the bat off his feet.

Another boom rings. The Flygon’s visage is blackened and she teeters with the sleep spore still in her system. Layla’s popping another spore into her mouth with a smug smile.

Mark gets up and runs to the Gligar to swipe furiously at him before he can stand back up. His skin tears and blood soaks onto the dark-type’s claws. The Gligar yells and flails until he passes out.

A fourth explosion strikes the Flygon, but Layla’s caught off guard by the Flygon’s dragon tail smashing her side. She flies and strikes the wall, crumbling onto the ground and fainting immediately.

Mark only gets a second to look at his defeated partner before the Flygon swoops toward him. He yells and runs into the stalagmites and hides behind a tall one. Flygon climbs over the spires, scorched maw alight with roasting dragonbreath.

Her head jerks back. Layla’s arms are around her neck, desperately digging her claws into it. The Flygon shakes and yowls, spewing purple draconic breath over the ceiling, but the pain is too much: her eyes roll and she falls onto her back with a thud. Layla gets off before she’s squashed.

Mark holds his chest and pants. Layla spits a plain spore out of her mouth and puts a foot on the Flygon’s head. She leans her face in a few centimeters from her ear: “YOU HEAR THAT? I AM -THE BEST-” she shouts. The Flygon doesn’t move. She laughs and kicks her stomach.

Mark unwinds himself and sighs, rolling his head back. When his senses return to him, he looks at his claws. The tips are wet with blood. He feels a drop roll off the back of his hand, staining his thigh. His stomach churns.

“Here you go,” Layla says, appearing before him. She’s shoving the Gligar’s torch a foot away from his face.

“Ah!” Mark yelps. He leans back.

Layla chuckles before holding the torch closer to him. Mark looks at it, confused.

“Come on. It’s the Gligar’s. Take it. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Uh- I’m Mark,” he responds. He takes it off her.

“Well Mark, thank you. It means a lot, I owe you. I’ll help return you to your town after I steal some stuff, ok?” she says. She winks and walks out into the clearing.

Mark focuses on the torch. He can feel it is not wood: it's very smooth to touch, yet its brown surface lacks any wood grain texture. The end is wrapped in a fibre, which is the fuel. There’s not much else to examine, so he gets up and returns to where Layla is.

She’s digging through the Gligar’s bag, tossing various mushrooms out of it. She takes a pouch that jingles out and stuffs into her own bag. Then she scavenges the Flygon’s bag next, taking a few large, glowing spores with her and another pouch larger than the first.

“So, where are you from?”

Mark says nothing.

“Oh don’t worry. I don’t care if it's the Magma Caverns or anywhere. Or do you not have a home?” She says.

“I can’t remember anything. I don’t know where I am,” Mark admits. He looks away.

Layla lifts her head up. “Like, this Mystery Dungeon? I don’t know what this Mystery Dungeon is called either. This area isn’t marked on any map I’m aware of"

Mark shakes his head. He twirls his finger in the air. "Like... Anywhere. What cave are we in?" Mark asks.

Layla lifts an eyebrow. "Eh?”

Mark squints his eyes at Layla. “We’re in a cave, aren’t we? What cave system are we in?”

Layla tilts her head. “The Lower Tunnels…”

There’s awkward silence.

Mark continues. “Uh, do you know how to get to the surface?”

Layla’s face lights up. “What do you mean? Are you from the surface?”

“...Yes,” Mark says, dread in his voice.

Layla flees the Flygon’s satchel and grabs Mark by both his shoulders. “How do you get the surface?!?” she shouts with intense excitement.

“What? I don’t know! I lost all my memories.” Mark exclaims.

“What do you mean? Please, Mark, tell me everything you know!” she says. She leans uncomfortably close to his face.

“Uh… Well, I can’t remember my memories, but I can remember facts. I know I was a human and that I lived on the surface. I woke up where you found me. I don’t know how I got here or how I’m a Sableye. I mean, I believe I was human, but I doubt that’s actually the case.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a Sableye! I might only think I’m human because I may have hit my head as I fell!”

“Well, I believe you’re a human!”

“Really? Why?”

“Because I said so! Plus, there is a way to know for sure if you’re human!”

“What’s that?”

Layla smirks. “I’ll show you, but you’ll have to come with me to Scrap Town. Plus, it sounds like you don’t have any place to sleep, yeah? You can use my place. You saved my life, after all! I wouldn’t have been able to take them both on at the same time!”

“Okay.”

Then Layla pats both his shoulders. “Great. Just need to do a few last things”, she says and cheerfully steps to the Flygon’s bag. She picks up a few spores and stuffs them into her own bloating bag. She then picks up the Flygon’s torch and heads to the pit. She holds it over the edge with a shaky grip.

“Wait, wouldn’t they be able to see anything without their torch!?” Mark asks.

Layla cranes her head back. She has a neutral face that Mark can’t read. With the harsh glow of the red mushrooms around, the expression is unsettling to Mark. “Yeah. That’s the point.”

“Won’t they die?”

“They better! They’ll probably try to track me home if they escape. It’s easiest to just do this.”

She lets go. The glow of the torch disappears. Mark’s mouth hangs open. Layla stares down the pit for several long seconds and then walks to Mark. She grabs his right upper arm.

He tugs back.

“Hey!” she says offended. “We gotta get you to safety!”

Mark stops struggling. A moment later, a horrid roar comes from the pit, shaking the ground. They both snap their heads to it.

“And let’s not find out what the hell that is. Come on, I’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know!” she says.

Mark doesn’t respond, too confused about everything. He follows when Layla tugs his arm again. He looks at the beat-up Flygon and drops his torch before the stalactite field blocks his view of her.

---

The convoluted layout of the mystery dungeon is replaced by a simple staircase. Only a few small, faint blue glowshrooms dot the steps where they meet the wall. Mark’s baffled by how all the previous caverns are just gone.

As they travel, Layla explains the world they are in. They live in the “Underground”. No one has seen the surface nor is anyone aware of an exit. Some don’t believe the surface exists at all, despite myths claiming all Pokemon have came from the surface.

They reach the top and Layla looks back at the ghost. She taps her brow with a single claw. “And this is important: everywhere is violent, so stand on your toes. Pokemon outside of towns tend to be worse and pokemon in Mystery Dungeons are especially bad,” she says.

“What are Mystery Dungeons?” Mark asks. She leads him down into the plain tunnel they came from.

“When enough violent pokemon gather in one place, a Mystery Dungeon forms. The layout changes every time you enter them and you can only leave if you make it to the end, but there is always a path to the end. It’s easy to get lost in them. They’re also full of dangerous pokemon who are cursed to be deranged and excessively violent. They can’t be reasoned with. I don’t know how they show up or how they are still alive, but they’re there.

“That being said, there’s a lot of treasure in them! Rare, helpful mushrooms tend to grow there and poke is just littered there, for whatever reason. You can also use them as makeshift hiding places. I guess we got really unlucky on both those accounts though, huh? Either way, they’re rarely worth the trouble they cause unless you’re amazing and skilled like I am. Cool, huh? And quite… mysterious?”

Mark nods. “How common are Mystery Dungeons?”

“Ehh...” Layla shrugs. “Not terribly common, but they can be in awful, inconvenient locations. Just avoid them unless you’re with me, ok?”.

“Okay,” he says. He holds his chin with his free hand, mulling all the information over. It's hard to believe but forces himself to accept it all, to survive. He bumps into a stopped Layla while distracted; they’re back at the Gallade. Now that things are calm and stable, Mark notices just how wide the pool of blood is.

“This is a mystery I’m dying to know about: if you were a human but now a pokemon, how did you wake up here?” Layla asks. She looks around and spots the feeble orange light above them. She lets go of Mark and approaches the rocky wall.

"I don’t know. Why was I tied up, for that matter?" Mark asks.

“Wait, Mark, what the hell happened to your torch? Did you drop it?” she says exasperated.

“The torch? I left it behind for them. I’m worried about them.”

Layla snarls. “They may find and hurt me! Not you. Actually, they’ll probably hate you too for helping me, so now your life’s on the line now. Do you know how tenacious these kinds of hunters are? Ugh. Either way, you’re going to be left behind in the dark a bit, cause I’m going to see what’s up there, ok?” Her voice is livid. Mark takes a step back, spooked.

She stuffs her torch into her maw, angrily biting down on it. She then scales the rock face with practiced movements. Mark barely sees what she’s holding on to as she goes straight up. Soon he’s plunged in darkness. Mark wraps his arms around himself as taunting thoughts remind him of when he first woke up.
She climbs over the top and there’s silence. He looks around him, already forgetting that he can’t even see his own limbs. He can’t help but to think about this being the fate of those two if he didn’t forsake the torch.

A torch is tossed from above. He yelps as it clatters beside him.

“What was that?” Mark asks.

“A new torch for you! By the way! Guess what, Mark?” Layla says, her voice reverberating.

“What?”

“IT’S A BLOODBATH!” she says with cheer.

“There is a dead Magmar, a dead Machamp, and a dead Reuniclus. They seem to be Merka’s and Lucia’s people. It looks they had a brawl but they took each other out. You and the Gallade must have fallen off in the middle of it all. Either way, I’m going to be richer now! AND DON’T DROP YOUR NEW TORCH, OKAY?”

Mark stares at the glow above while Layla obviously loots their corpses. He wonders why he’d even end up involved in this situation, but theorizing makes his skin crawl. Knowing the truth may not even be worth it. Eventually, she climbs back down the cliff; the clap of her landing echoes around when she hops off near the bottom.

“Hey, one more thing I’ve noticed. There are only four torches up there. There should be five; I think the Magmar wouldn’t have used their own flame, so it looks like there wasn’t a torch for you. Weird, eh?” she says. Mark notices the hostility from earlier has evaporated.

She grabs his arm. “But come on, let’s get to Scrap Town ok?~ I’ll explain who Lucia and Merka people are another day. Let’s go~” she sing-songs and pulls with her firmest tug yet.

“Ahhh!” Mark yelps, stumbling. His arm’s sore.

---

They climb down the hole Layla came from and travel down numerous tunnels. There are many forks but Layla has a map and compass prepared to find her way back. The environment is indistinguishable; all rocky and brown. Some spots have stalagmites and stalactites while others lacked them. There are no more new features in what feels like two hours of walking. Getting lost would be inevitable if they didn’t have a map.

On their walk, Mark explores his head one last time. The more information he recalls, the more despair he feels when he doesn’t know why or how he knows different stuff. Eventually, he remembers one fact: Pokemon speak to each other in their own language. Yet, he can understand Layla perfectly - even though he knows he’s speaking English. He finds this evidence that his knowledge is untrustworthy, but theorizes that if he really was human, he’s only understanding her now because he’s a pokemon.

The road eases into an incline. They take a right into a small tunnel which is much steeper. After that, they climb into a open cavern larger than any are they’ve crossed before. They’re surrounded by towering teal mushrooms but past the canopy of their caps, a sea of stars twinkle through.

Mark cranes his head way up. He walks slower to stop him from tripping, even as Layla pulls his arm.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Layla asks.

“Aren’t those stars?” Mark says, confused. They have an orange tint and waver around unnaturally.

Layla looks up. She rests her claws on her hips. “Those? Its just light bouncing off the moisture on the ceiling. Its nothing special. Why?”

Mark keeps staring.

Layla sighs and looks up too. In an earnest voice, she asks “what are ‘stars’? Is this a human thing?”

“Well, at night - Night on the surface - When the sky is dark - uh…” Mark coughs and starts from the top. “Ok, for half a day, its dark. When it's dark, a lot of small lights in the sky come out. They are called stars. They look like those”.

He looks at Layla. She’s frozen, staring up. He hesitantly pokes her shoulder.

“You must be human!” she shouts. She grabs his arm again and runs. “Nobody knows what the surface looks like! There are rumours, but no one’s ever been able to just say what’s on the surface, absolutely none of the rumours have ever had ‘stars’! You are human! Come on! Hurry up!” Layla says with child-like excitement.

They approach two girders planted into the rocky ground marking the entrance of the town. Sparse tents lie around. As they head further in, the tents become more numerous, and soon structures start to be made of either not-quite-wood or metal sheets and beams. Some homes have the light of a flame filtering through the seams.

They cut through a town square where many vacant booths are set up. One that stands out is in the shape of a Kecleon’s head with an eyepatch strapped around its right eye. A bonfire with the smell of charcoal is placed in a central pit, with a billboard a few meters away facing it. An Ursaring, Pawniard, and Arbok were chatting behind a booth, stopping their conversation to glare at the two speeding along.

Past that, the huts are denses and made only out of scrap. Voices comes from within some of them. Layla zigzags down a path, squeezing through tightly placed homes and brushing by a tired-looking Munchlax. The last pokemon they pass by is a Machoke passed out between two structures with deep bruises on its side.

They arrive at the back of the town. Pushed against the wall of the cavern is a pile of steel construction bars all wedged into a fissure in the wall. Dirt mounts secure the bars in the ground. Privacy is given to the home with blue tarps stretching across the support beams and a few sheets of metal mysteriously held in place on the surface. Its a very tall hut compared to the others.

There’s a small opening at the base. She lets go to climb through it. Mark follows. Inside, there’s plenty of floors pace for themselves, a treasure chest, and a lit firepit in the middle. Above are crisscrossing beams, which some tarps and nets stretch across. He gets lost trying to follow how they fit together.

Layla puts her torch into a hook acting as a shoddy sconce and climbs up the side of a beam. She’s lost in the chaos above. He occasionally sees her between the tarps and beams as she jumps across gaps.

She drops right behind Mark. He jumps and barely recovers when she jams a yellowed, crinkled page in front of his face. It is torn in half. Mark steps back, but she keeps pushing it further into his face.

“Here. Can you read this? Come on! Take it!” she says.

Mark grabs the sides carefully and reads: “Four: Safe System of work. Four point one. General. Four point one point one: For an operation involving the use of an excavator, the proprietor slash contractor, in consultation with the management personnel and works, should carry out a detailed analysis of the operation so as to devise a system of work that is safe and without risk to the health of the workers. A system of work should lay down paper and safe work methods and procedures for workers to follow”.

Mark looks up, checking if Layla wants him to continue. She nods eagerly He resumes reading the excavator safety manual all until the next header, where the paper cuts off.

“That’s it,” Mark says. Layla’s eyes are tearful. She grabs his shoulders suddenly and gets close to him.

“Ah! Please give me some spa-” Mark says.

“YOU ARE HUMAN!” she shouts. “YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING THIS IS? You were on the surface before, which means IT DOES EXIST! You can read human script! You can probably understand what all these human ruins around here are for too!” She’s shaking his shoulders which makes him dizzy.

“aaaAAAaaa then why am I a Sableye!?!” he says.

Layla stops. She holds her hands behind her head and poses. “It’s because some higher power above wanted you to meet me, obviously.”

Mark is speechless. This is not helping his forming existential crisis.

Layla shifts her angle. “I’m just so great that people reincarnate to witness me~ Heehee. You know it! It’s fate you’ll help me reach the surface!” She says, winking.

Mark brings a claw to his chin. It’s not worse than any other explanation he has.

Layla grabs his shoulders again and leans in so close their foreheads nearly touch. “Let’s form Team Surface! We’ll reach the surface together! I bet the surface has the key to your missing memories! We can find out why you’re a Sableye! We’ll do missions and save up money and bring everyone else who wants to reach the surface-”

Mark shakes her off and takes a few steps back. “Why did you drop their torch?!?” he shouts. He winces when the excitement in Layla’s face washes away.

She rests her claws on her hips. The cackle of their torches fills the incredibly awkward silence.

“...They’re going to search for where I live now,” she says judgementally. “I’m really glad you saved me, but you also jeopardized me by sparing them. It happened before.”

Mark rubs the back of his neck. He keeps a disapproving face up, but the corners of his lip wavers. His heart beats heavily.

“Andy looked after me when I was younger. I asked him not to douse a Seviper’s torch. The next day, he found our house, and brought a whole mob. They burned our house down.”

The cold tone of her voice strikes Mark. He looks away.

“We were on the run for a long time since then. It was hard on us, especially on Andy, and it was all my fault. Your mercy is admirable Mark, but you fucked things up,” she seethes.

Mark rubs his arm.

“Hey, I hate it too. I don’t want to be a part of this misery any more than you. But here we are. We can do something about it,” she says. She reaches deep inside her bag, and carefully pulls out the Gallade’s silver USB drive.

“It’s a key. I know a door with a keyhole that this will fit into. I found it in a more out-of-the-way Mystery Dungeon. Maybe we haven’t found the surface yet because that door hasn’t been opened. I don’t know why someone in Lucia’s guild has it and more than ever we should find it before her. I want you to work with me. I’ll feed you, you help me translate any runes, and we can get away from all this violence together and find your memories on the surface. You must want to turn back to a human, right?”

Mark peers at the key. “No. I don’t mind that I’m a Sableye. And I don’t know if I can trust you,” he says with a heavy breath.

Layla stares dead into his eyes for a long time, gnashing her teeth. Mark is braces for an an earful, but she merely swipes his bag off his shoulders and walks to the same steel beam she climbed earlier instead. She kicks it, which makes a ringing clang. “Fine. I’ll get you work tomorrow when I go out to cash in my mission,” she says before going up and disappearing.

There’s rustling and a cushion falls in front of Mark.

“Go sleep whenever,” Layla says. He can’t see her.

Mark reaches a hand up to rub his forehead and approaches the bag. It’s soft like Wooloo wool. He sighs, tosses his torch to the center of the hut, and climbs onto it. He isn’t tired but he curls up anyways.

He notices the tips of his claws. The orange flame makes the colours hard to stand out, but they’re still caked in blood.

He thinks back to Layla’s desperate face when she asked him for help. And then of the town he passed through.

A thought passes through his mind:

I’m alone.

Bothered, he tries to imagine what growing up in a family must be like. It eases him enough for him to sleep.

---

Mark sees a purple-and-blue void shifting around, never making form. Two unclear voices reverberate in the distance: Mark’s own voice and a feminine voice. Time passes, and they become discernible…

“Welcome! You’re about to enter the world of pokemon!” the stranger says. “This test will find a likely fit for what pokemon you should be. Answer these questions with honesty, but don’t fret on them too much.”

“Okay,” Mark hears himself say.

“Alright, let’s begin… Someone saves you, but people then accuse them of wrongdoing and ask you to help find them. Do you help the accusers, stand up for this stranger, or run away?”

“Hmmm. I don’t like getting directly involved in conflict. But, this person can’t be that bad if they saved someone. If they saved me. I’d stand up to them”

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 3
Scrap Town​

“Aaaa!” Mark shouts. His purple arms scramble in front of him, bracing to impact against the cave floor a foot below him. Yet, he doesn’t fall.

“There, I knew that’d wake you up,” a familiar voice says.

Blood pumps through his body and his senses come to. The ground looms a foot below his face. He’s being held up by both shoulders while the ends of the legs lie on some large cushion behind him. He tries to take a deep breath but the stranger pulls him fully out of bed.

“Hey!” he shouts. His legs slide off and they instinctively catch him. He pulls free of the stranger’s grip and falls back against the cushion’s side. He sees a clawed monster in front of him. “What are you!? Why are you so big!?”

The monster in front of him squats down to his eye level. “You’re a pokemon, remember?”

Mark pants. He looks at his hands - they’re purple claws with dried blood flaking off the tips. Memories of yesterday rush back: the cave, the pit, the torches, the pitch black, Layla, and the fight. His stomach churns as he looks up to Layla. She has a bag hanging from her shoulder and another one set by her foot.

“Hey, don’t give me that look!” she says. She furrows her brow. “I’m sorry about yesterday! They may find our house and destroy everything, but there was a time I thought that didn’t justify killing. I miss those times. I think you were right.”

Mark rubs his arm. He tries to say something but Layla interrupts him.

“And it makes sense you wouldn’t want to team up with a stranger you just met, even if they’re incredible, so I shouldn’t be so bitchy that you won’t help me.”

“Hey, I’m not in the human world anymore. It’s possible I was being too judgemental, I never had to worry about people burning houses down. I mean, I don’t like killing or fighting, but it's unfair for me to say you were wrong.”

Her brows furrow tighter. “No. Murder is bad, idiot.”

Mark’s face freezes, mouth hung open.

“I spent hours swallowing all that pride only for you to go oH mAyBe YoU cAn DaMn ThEm To EtErNaL dArKnEsS! Come on Mark, have consistent morals!” she says. Then her serious composure shatters and she starts laughing.

“Okay? I’ll keep my integrity and, uh, tell you to not murder? …Don’t murder, Layla.”

“Thanks. I probably won’t.”

“Who were they anyways? Were they really that bad?”

Layla gets on the ground and sits cross-legged in front of him. “Absolutely. That group is hired to steal. And by ‘steal’, I mean visit pokemon’s homes, beat them up, kill if that’s easy, and take their stuff to the clients. I had a mission to get back some stuff that they stole.”

Mark scratches the back of his neck.

“Hey, do you need more time to get adjusted to your body?” Layla asks. “I can get work for you, but you’ll have to leave soon to get what’s left.”

“Give me some time to think,” he says. He rubs his chin. The striking images of yesterday’s glowing mushrooms popped into his mind. “Hey Layla, is there any work that involves exploring Mystery Dungeons?”

“Wait, you want to join my team?”

Mark puts his hands out and shakes them. “No! I’m still not sure how I feel about that. I just want to learn more about the Underground, that’s all. That Mystery Dungeon was really interesting, I know I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Layla puts an arm over her front and strokes her chin with her other claw. “I didn’t take you for the adventuring type. You don’t mind that you have to beat up deranged pokemon inside of Dungeons?”

“I can just avoid them, right?”

Layla pulls the corner of her lip and shakes her head. Mark looks down.

“Still,” she says, “it's pretty rare to get missions that involve Mystery Dungeons anyways. More often I’m in a Mystery dungeon for the loot because every other job is crappy. Any Mystery Dungeon missions that do show up gets snatched immediately anyway, since the reward you get on top of the loot is usually a really good deal. Actually - all good jobs get taken first! You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to get good money, and we’ve already missed ‘pretty early.’”

Mark nods.

“So,” she says, “I’ll show you the workboard and where you buy food. I’ll also show you Leon’s shop since you’ll need to know about that if you really do want to explore Mystery Dungeons. Alright? And don’t forget your bag.” She beams and throws a bag resting by her foot, before extending a claw to Mark.

He smiles back while the bag lands perfectly over his shoulders. He reaches for her hand, but she grabs his forearm instead of his palm.

“Aaah!” Mark yells as Layla drags him up and out with vigour.

---

As Mark goes through the winding paths between scrap huts, he looks at everything his torchlight can reach. The scrap on the huts are bent. Some have numbers printed onto them and a few have English logos. Fewer huts than yesterday have orange glows emanant from within.

There are Pokemon in the distance illuminated by their own torches. Many have scars or missing fur patches. A Zangoose in particular has half their fur missing, exposing pink flesh everywhere. They chat with a soft smile to a Clobbopus.

They squeeze through a gap between a tight pair of houses and into the central plaza they passed during the “night.” Many pokemon gather. Some sit on stumps planted around the fire pit while others flow between the booths lining the plaza. Torches planted into the ground keep the stalls and their wares lit. The sound of crackling fire and the smell of embers is strong. The booth with the Kecleon head is still there too and its garishness distracts Mark until Layla brings him to the billboard in front of the bonfire.

Sheets of a material resembling paper are pinned to it. The writing is formed by marks arranged in numerous ways, some marks resembling pawprints. A Yanma hovering by the board tears a mission off and flies away, seething.

Layla taps the board with the back of her claw. “Ok. So, here’s the mission board. Scrap Town is a special town in that it’s full of ‘outlaws’, meaning we or an ancestor got kicked out of another town for whatever bullshit reason. People here are thieves, mercenaries, dissidents, all sorts of stuff. So people come here to request missions you can’t post anywhere else, especially since a lot of people here are good at what they do.

“Missions you can find are like: ‘find this item I lost in a dungeon’, ‘escort me through a dungeon’, ‘escort me to a different town’, ‘beat up this guy for me', ‘protect me’, ‘steal this from this guy’, uh… Assassination requests show up too, and they’re popular because they’re simple. A lot of requests are also menial work, like carrying stuff around. They’re some of the best you can actually do because you don’t die.”

Mark nods to every word while he stares at the posted missions pinned into the not-wood. Layla leans with her elbow against the board.

“See any you like?” she asks.

One mission is written with talons. Beside it is a mission written in dots. And one near the bottom has small human-like handprints. “I can’t read any of it.”

“What?” she says. “You’re speaking just fine!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, I guess nobody taught you how to read Footprint, huh?” she says.

“I-”

“Wait! But you can read Human Script! Is that not a different form of speaking?”

Mark takes a moment to figure out what she was asking. “That ‘Human Script’ is English. Well-”

“THAT’S CALLED ENGLISH?!? Woah!!” she shouts. Pokemon turn their heads to the Sneasel. An Aipom with a burn mark leans an ear in. She grabs Mark's shoulders and shakes him.

“L-Layla!”

“Why is English like that? Why is it so exotic and mysterious? Does it look different if you have a different hand? Do you use it for rituals? Why is it on so many ruins! Have you never seen a footprint before?”

“Layla, it’s just like the writing here, there’s nothing special about it. English is what we’re speaking, and ‘Human Script’ is just written English. ” He takes a deep breath.

“Nothing special? Yeah right, I bet your amnesia just made you forget the special powers it has. It’s on so many ruins so it must do something. Heck, that ‘excavator’ stuff you read was an incantation! English! English…” she zones out feeling the word on her tongue over and over.

“Layla! Can you help me read this?”

“Oh, yeah!” She says, noticing the board beside her as if it snuck up on her. She scans the postings. “Looks like all the good ones are gone. Hmmm… Here! This one! It pays for 220 poke, which is the highest reward listed here at the moment. ‘I had to leave my partner behind in the Lower Tunnels and I don’t have time to go back for him! Please deliver some Oran Mushrooms.’” She taps this sheet.

He smiles.

“Great! As for how to prepare for this: the bag you have has enough supplies. If you run out though, Leon’s Store has adventure supplies,” she says, pointing to the stall with the Kecleon head before walking there.

The not-wooden sculpture is lit from the bottom by the plaza light below. Its craftsmanship is professional, although the light green and yellow paint on it is faded. One of its eyes has an eyepatch nailed over it.

“Hey!” Layla shouts, catching Mark staring for too long. He runs up to the counter. At the back are various pulsing spores and funny-coloured mushrooms. Below are bandages, ropes, and digging equipment. In front, a Kecleon is sitting cross-legged on a stool, sharpening his claws with a grey rock. He turns his head to Mark, exposing his own matching eye patch.

He snarls. His voice is grizzly. “You need anything? By the way, we’re low on Oran Mushrooms.”

“I’m new! New to the whole, uh, adventuring thing?” Mark says.

“Mercenary work!” Layla says.

“Mercenary work! …Mercenary work?”

Leon’s sole eye burrows into Mark. Then he grunts and focuses back on his claws. “What do you want, please?”

Layla leans in to whisper. “Charming, eh? He used to be a thief. His whole store used to be stolen goods, but now people say he just gets other people to steal for him.”

Leon’s whole body is frozen except for a quivering eye burning into Mark’s soul. She grabs the Sableye and runs, fleeing while a Quagsire comes and takes over Leon’s attention. They go behind a hut and she buckles over, losing herself with laughter.

“What was that?” he asks.

“YOU’RE GONNA DIE!” she says.

Mark is going to die.

“Nono I’m kidding! Haha, Don’t do anything to me! Stop, Mark!” she holds a palm out to Mark who has yet to do anything. “He’s been trying to be a clean business for a while, or at least pretend he’s one. He gets furious when you suggest otherwise!”

Layla hugs her torso and paces her inhales. Mark makes a small chuckle, though his muscles stay tense.

“Okay, okay, okay…” Layla says and takes a deep breath. She then describes the various wares Mark needs to know, like oran mushrooms, sleep spores, the many different mushrooms for ailments, as well as how many bandages he should keep on him and that he shouldn’t need rope unless he’s too much of a bitch to climb.

“Okay. Does he sell maps?”

“No,” Layla says. She points a claw to him. “But I know someone who sells really good maps. He should be in Myla’s cafe, which we’re going to anyways because she’s important. This way!”

---

It’s a short walk. Opposite of the mission board within the plaza, there is a dome whose large size can only be made out up close. A few pokemon sit on the rough ground outside its entrance and they talk to each other while tearing off bites of their mushrooms. Mark and Layla enter.

The floor is built with smooth not-wood planks whose texture and firmness are softer than real wood. Beams of the same material hold the frame which the scrap plates rest on. There’s no ceiling - the fake stars above shine through.

In the middle, the floor is removed for a grand bonfire to sit on stony rock, illuminating the entire inside. Seats, cushions, and tables are everywhere, in numerous shapes and sizes. A bruised Makchoke is staring into a bowl, a Galvantula sits in the corner slowly drawing a brush over a scroll, a group of monkey pokemon makes noise in the corner, and a Mightyena is ahead at the counter being serviced by a Mismagius. He smells roasted mushrooms.

Layla bumps his side and points to the Mismagius. “She’s Myla. She runs this place and serves food from the farms above. She’ll list the prices on the board above. Ooo, they’re at 300 poke today. Yikes. This is why it’s important to loot corpses whenever you can, ok? She can also be the drop-off point for any missions which need something to be delivered.”

“Okay.”

Layla grabs his shoulders and forces him to look at her. “And be careful what you say! She hears a lot of stuff going on and people pay her to tell what she knows. It’s on us to keep our mouths shut, ok? But! She’s super nice, and a friend of mine. Wave hi!”

Mark looks to the side. The Mismagius is staring at him with a stretched smile. He nervously waves. The ghost waves back and then floats backward, phasing through a wall while keeping her expression unbroken.

“Is this Andy guy also going to be creepy?” Mark asks.

“Nope! He’s my uncle! And he’s over there,” Layla says, pointing to the Galvantula. She grabs Mark’s shoulders and pushes him so he’ll walk.

“Uncle! Look what I found! He’s a Sableye! Isn’t he amazing? Mark, this is Andy, he travels around the entire underground to do his map business. He is the most knowledgeable person around and he will help you because I’m the best and he loves me. Andy! MEET MARK!” she says. She shoves Mark towards him. He falls onto the floor.

The Galvantula looks from the paper resting on his table. His fur is missing some colour and his eyes are sagging. A large bag of scrolls rests beside him. He sighs.

Mark looks up from the floor and smiles. “Hello! Nice to meet you!”

Andy rolls all six of his eyes to Layla. “Layla, what do you need from me?”

“He wants to do missions but he doesn’t know how to read. I was hoping you’ll give him a map, then go outside and read missions to him. Give him whatever help he needs. Mark, you will come back to my house when you’re all done, okay? Got it? Great! I need to get that mission handed in now, bye!” She flees afterward.

Mark reaches a claw to her. “Wait!” he says, but she’s gone. He looks back at the stranger. “Hope I’m not being a burden or anything. I, uh, didn’t expect any of that.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it. Not like I can blame anyone but myself anyways,” he says with a laugh. “Take a seat.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m new to this world,” Mark says as he hops onto the stool beside him. He shifts until he finds what’s comfortable with his new body.

“What do you mean by ‘new to this world?’”

“I woke up in this world not long ago. I lost my memory, but I think I was a human. Layla believes it, I can read English after all. I guess you’d call it Human Script or something.”

Andy peers at him. He waits for a response, but the elder closes his eyes and furrows his eyebrows. A forelimb rubs his temple.

“Did I say anything wrong?” Mark asks.

Andy opens his eyes and looks past Mark. Mark turns around - the Mismagius is staring at the two of them with that unchanged dead grin.

“Don’t let this be known. There are dangerous people in the Underground looking for the surface as well. They may even kidnap you.”

Mark’s heart sinks. He looks at everyone else in the cafe: the Machoke from earlier is resting his head on the table, bowl overturned. The Mightyena tears his mushroom to shreds and slobbers over the table. The monkeys have left. A brown, wilted Carnivire enters the cafe, who takes Myla’s attention away from Mark.

Andy keeps a hushed tone. “I wouldn’t worry, I doubt people would know someone like you does exist at the moment.”

“Is Layla aware people may be looking for me?” Mark asks.

“I don’t think she’ll reveal you to others on purpose, but I’ll make sure she knows not to do it by accident either,” he says before whispering his next question. ”You say you’re from the surface even though you can’t remember anything. What do you know about the surface, then?”

“Well, I can remember stuff that’s found on the surface. Like, I know what the sky looks like, what trees look like, pokemon, cities, I know facts about history. But I don’t have memories. I can’t remember what happened in my life. I can’t remember what city I grew up in looks like,” Mark whispers.

Andy nods. “Curious. You should tell Layla what you know, she’ll love to hear about it. That being said, don’t look for the surface. There are dangerous people involved and nobody’s found an exit. It’s pointless, even if Layla won’t stop trying.”

“I’m not sure I really want to do that, at least right now. I just want to learn more about the Underground. I still know very little.”

Andy grunts.

“So, will you help me find a mission?” Mark asks.

“I need to finish these maps first. It’ll take some time. Here…” Andy digs into his bag and pulls out a scroll with knotted cloth wrapped around it, keeping it closed. He hands it over.

Mark takes it. “Thank you.”

“It’s a map of this town and all the tunnels around it. This region is called the ‘Lower Tunnels.’ You might as well study it while I finish this up.”

Mark squeezes the scroll. Like every other material coming from “trees”, its texture is soft and squishier than it should be. “Where does all the paper and wood around here come from?”

“Tree mushrooms, like the ones outside of town.”

“Oh,” he says. “Mind if I read this by the billboard?”

“Yeah. I’ll come after you.” He idly raises a forelimb to wave him off.

Mark slips out of his stool and heads out. He squeezes the mushroom paper more to feel its curious texture, tuning everything out.

---

There are fewer people around the plaza. The merchants are spending their time counting poke or eating a meal. When Mark arrives at the mission board, the one mission Layla pointed out is already gone. He sighs, walks to the backside, and slides down it to slump onto the floor. He unravels his scroll. A compass falls out and clinks the ground, which he stuffs into his bag.

He turns the map around a few times to figure out which way is the right way up. He carefully sets his torch down and holds the map wide in front of him. The top left quadrant has an intricate ink illustration of Scrap Town and the large mushrooms surrounding it. He notices Layla’s home is missing. He compares the huts drawn around the plaza to the ones around himself: they don’t match up, although the positions of the wider streets do. In and around the forest of mushrooms are various arrows curling up or down, and small, short labels written by them in footprint script.

Around the town’s illustration are segmented diagrams of tunnels. Many labels are placed at either end of the tunnels, or in the middle of them. Some of the labels match some in the detailed town illustration. Mark counts about 9 separate tunnel systems. In the bottom right corner of the map, a tunnel connects to a fancy illustration of crystals. A tunnel with hanging vines that cut off at the far left edge.

Mark mentally backtracks where he and Layla came from. He works through the first network of tunnels but struggles when he starts analyzing the second set of tunnels down as his memory forgets the sequence of turns they took. He gives up and instead sees if he can find where he woke up. Nothing on the map resembles a tunnel by a cliff connected to a ceiling hole, nor do any spots seem to mark a Mystery Dungeon entrance other than the crystal location. There are also no drawings of glowing mushrooms.

“Hey!” a childish voice says from directly above him. He yelps and lets go of the map. An Aipom sits on top of the board, kicking his legs. A burn mark stretches across his chest and his tail waves a torch around.

“I overheard you and the lady at this billboard earlier. You’re looking for a mission? I have a special mission for 500 poke. Are you interested?”

“What is it?”

“I just want someone on lookout while I do something dangerous, in the farms above us. Nothing special. I’ll lead you, ok?”

“Let me think…”

“Food is up to 300 poke! You want to eat at least once before tomorrow, right? Come on!” He jumps down in front of him. “You won’t get into any danger!”

“Is it really safe?”

“Yup! I mean, no more dangerous than a trip to the farms can be. You can run, right?”

Mark nervously chuckles. “Alright, but someone’s coming to see me at any moment. I’ll wait for him so I can tell him where I’m going.”

“Fine,” The Aipom says, rolling his eyes. He sits beside him. “My name’s Bali, by the way. And if he takes too long, I’ll find someone better and he won’t starve and be miserable and sad and you’ll regret everything!”

“Okay…” Mark says. He stuffs the map back into his bag and glances back to the cafe. Andy walks out of it.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 4
Guild Members​

“This Aipom is offering me a mission. He just wants me to be on lookout while he does… something?” Mark tells Andy. Mark glances at the Aipom; he’s forcing a frown while his tail waves in careless arcs.

“You said he only needs to know you’re off with me,” Bali says. His tail-hand tightens. “No more! It’s none of his business! Let’s go,”

Andy takes a deep breath. “Hey, I only care if you pay him-”

“Of course! I will!” Bali says.

Andy sighs.“...and that I know where he’s going so I can tell Layla.” He cringes anticipating more of Bali’s attitude.

“We’re going to-” Mark starts.

“-Nowhere!” Bali interjects.

“T-to the farms? Is that on the map?” Mark asks. The Aipom sticks the torch in his face. Mark yelps and steps back, feeling the warmth of the flame. Bali keeps it close to him even while he backs up.

“Do you want this job or not?” Bali says.

There’s a rustling sound and Andy throws a map on the floor between them. The two look at it. Andy speaks delicately: “He doesn’t know his way around. He needs to meet up with Layla after he’s done because she’s providing housing for him. I just want to make sure he comes back safely. Is that ok?”

There’s a pause until Bali rolls his eyes and he gets the torch out of Marks’ face. He keeps his frown. “We’ll be back before everyone goes to sleep. I won’t abandon him. Ugh…” He slips a hand into his bag and tosses Andy a small pouch that clinks. Andy’s brow raises as he picks it up.

“If anybody else asks, you don’t say anything, ok? You also keep details to ‘Layla’ a minimum.” Bali says.

Andy nods. “Sure. Enjoy your first job, Mark. Give the map to Myla when you’re done” Andy says. He yawns, walks off, and forgets to say goodbye.


Bali taps his foot until he’s out of sight. “Old people are so annoying. They order you around and hide secrets and make everything complicated and ugh. I’m going to pay only half when we’re done and you’ll only get the rest if he doesn’t rat me out in two days, got it? Okay, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Bali walks to a pair of huts. Mark tries to see where Andy has gone, but he’s disappeared. He sighs and picks up the scroll, and stuffs it into his bag. It's not going in easily, so he shuffles things around, slips it carefully in some free space but still doesn’t slip in. He glances over to Bali - he’s already past the huts. “Hey wait!” he shouts, holding the scroll under his arm and rushing over.

---

The two clear the edge of town, walking into the giant mushroom thicket. Mark got his map tucked away and now he distracts himself by examining each tall shroom within his torchlight’s range. The surface of their stems is hard and lumpy and while the cap far above them is barely illuminated, they’re light green.

His foot hits something hard. “Aaaaa!” Mark yelps, dropping his torch and bending down to grab his foot. He kicked a stem stump. Still not fully used to his body, he falls onto his side. His torch rolls away and everything becomes black.

His mind races to when he first woke up.

“Wait, no!” he shouts, scrambling onto his feet and ignoring the pain. The burning sensation flares up again as the same toe hits something else in the dark and he falls over again.

“BALI! HELP!” he yells. He closes his eyes and takes a long-winded breath through his seething teeth.

“Something’s up with you,” a childish voice says. Mark opens his eyes; the area around him is lit in orange hues once more. Bali stands above him, holding the torch he dropped in his right hand.

Mark gets up and brushes the dirt off his shadowy body. “Sorry. I panicked. I’m not used to being lost in this darkness.”

Bali looks at the fungi beside them. “You were looking at tree mushrooms.”

“Yeah. I lost my memory not long ago. I’ve never seen these before.”

Bali shrugs. “Well, look at them later. How about I hold onto this torch so you don’t get distracted, okay?” He turns around. “Please. I want to get this over with”

Mark stays close behind. His eyes are more focused on the ground than what’s above him.

---

It feels like an hour has passed. The ground is uneven and slopes upwards. Many boulders of different shapes and sizes litter between the different stems. The mushrooms here bend and twist and are all larger than the ones closer to town.

Bali gracefully jumps across the rocks while Mark slowly climbs over them with his stumpy limbs. The Aipom taps his foot impatiently each time there’s a new obstacle for Mark, but he never complains. Mark’s learning the nuances of controlling his body and its balance fast.

He hauls himself over the ledge of a large boulder. The ground plateaus on the other side. It is an unusual field - many tall, thin stones wedge into the ground. Their edges are rough and their topsides arch. Many of them are arranged in short, straight rows.

Mark hops off the boulder, wobbling when he lands. “Hey, is this a graveyard?”

“A what? Nah. these are just human ruins,” Bali says, entering the yard. “Nothing special.”

“Oh, Well, can I at least see what’s writ- what’s drawn on these ruins?

The Aipom walks down three rows before turning around. “Fine.” He raises his torch up to the front of a headstone. Mark hurries up and reads the writing on its front. “Axelia Drivas” it reads. The numbers “10/2/2176” are also underneath it. He looks at the headstone beside it, then the one behind it. The last one is missing a date.

“Hey Mark, please. I get you’re curious but there’s time to check this place out on the way back,” Bali says. He turns around and walks to the far end, almost leaving Mark in the dark.

“Yes! Sorry! You’re right,” he says, catching up to him. He notices some graves have more space in front of their headstone than others, and some of them don’t have the space to fit a human body. He estimates there are somewhere between 40 to 70 graves.

Boulders line where the ground meets the wall. The Aipom walks along by them, holding both torches close to them until he stops at the one he is looking for. “This tunnel’s a secret too. Merka’s people don’t know about this, and so there are not many patrollers at the exit,” Bali says and he pushes it aside. It reveals a crawl space big enough for them.

He tosses Mark his torch, which he fumbles and drops. When he picks it up, Bali is already slipping in. Mark gets on all fours and crawls in. It’s cramped and all surfaces are soft dirt with many rocks, some sharp. It smells like rich dirt. Mark sucks it up and goes deeper.

---

Mark struggles to move around the tunnel. It’s clunky to hold his torch while crawling and he also makes sure not to singe Bali’s rear. The flame is also difficult to look past. As they get deeper, the slope becomes steep, and wiry roots bridge through the walls and ceiling forcing the two to crawl over and under them.

After a long while, Bali speaks up. “Sorry I’ve been getting impatient with you. I haven’t eaten in three days and it’s been making me grouchy. I am glad I have someone coming along for this.”

“What? Oh no, it’s fine,” Mark says. “I’m still getting used to things.”

“Well, you’re lucky you won’t have to do much.”

Bali stops. There’s a hole above him covered by another hefty rock. He heaves it aside with his arms and shoulders until an exit reveals itself. He jumps out, then Mark drags himself out. They’re in another wide-open cave with the denser mushroom trees. Their stems twist and bend in multiple spots and the caps overlap to obscure the ceiling. Buoying in the air are numerous flickers of yellow lights. They’re too dim to cast light onto surfaces, but they give a sense of the open area around them.

Bali brushes dirt off and moves on. They squeeze through the convoluted web of stems and reach a short mushroom squished between the fungi beside it. He crawls under its cap. Mark joins too. Bali pokes his head out the other end, looking left and right. “It’s clear. Stay as quiet as you can,” he whispers.

He and Mark crawl out into an unnaturally straight, narrow path. There are tree mushrooms lining both sides of the walkway, dense enough that they could never squeeze through. Bali keeps his head low and walks quietly. Mark mimics, although he teeters doing so.

They come to a four-way junction. Bali takes a left. It becomes obvious to Mark that the corridors here are man-made and that Bali has the route memorized. After another corner, Mark notices webs four times as tall as he is stretching between stems along the side, with iron shards planted in them and glowing spores trapped. He tempts himself to touch the web until he sees a skeletal pokemon paw trapped in one after another corner.

Soon they stop by a large mushroom tree. Its thin roots are exposed.

“Ok, here’s the plan. You wait here, I’ll go into one of the farms. If you see any of Merka’s people, just holler as loud as you can. Anything like ‘hey’, ‘run’ - I don’t care what, just don’t use my name. After that, run. If I get what I want, I’ll make sure Myla hands you the reward. Nobody should come, that being said,” he whispers.

“How would I know if they’re ‘Merka’s people?’” Mark asks.

Bali rubs his chin. “If you see anyone, just holler. And to be clear, do it when you see their torch. Don’t bother waiting for them to come into view. They would have seen your torch already.”

Mark nods. Bali nods back and slips through the roots.

Now Mark is alone for the first time since waking up. He looks around him - there’s no strong source of light other than his own torch. Bali’s torch barely filters through the trees. He takes a deep breath, sits down, and looks to the ceiling.

A gap between the many caps above exposes glittering orange stars. They’re much like the stars below but are smaller, dimmer, and more numerous. He studies the many sizes and patterns they form, seeing if he can make constellations.

The gap’s width didn’t show enough stars for his curiosity to be sated, so he gets up and brings his torch close to the web. The web’s two layers and the spikes create dissonant shadows on the other side, but he works out the shape of mushrooms lined neatly in rows. After making out their dull brown colour, he realizes they are the same filling mushrooms Layla has given him before.

Mark looks down and kicks a pebble. Of course he’s stealing food. He takes a deep breath. …I promised him I’ll do this. I just need to ask for more details next time. Be more careful.

The perturbation reminds Mark of when he chose to stand up for Layla yesterday. He holds his claws up - the blood is still there faded with dirt decorating it.

He sees an orange glow in the corner of his eye. Defensively, he holds his torch in its direction and gets into a fighting stance. The light is far away though. He clams up.

The figure shouts. “Hey! Don’t move and I’ll keep this simple.” Their torchlight approaches. Mark’s heart beats.

“AAAA!” Mark shouts, praying it's loud enough for Bali to hear.

He books it. Lighting bolts pass his right, flashing the entire mushroom forest in light. His ears ring from the boom. He forgoes keeping track of where he’s going and only tries to mix up the turns. Left, right, right, left. The electric-type is faster than what Mark can do with his short legs.

“Die you coward! I’ll tear off those arms off myself!” The pursuer shouts. A charge beam flies over Mark’s head and his ears ring louder. In its flash he sees a new pokemon, a Sneasel, running toward him. He can’t tell if it’s Layla, but he runs straight to her anyway.

Giving his pursuer a clear shot is a mistake. The next bolt sears Mark’s leg and he falls. He grabs his leg and screams as the agony digs into his skin. He looks - it is a Mareep chasing him. His wool crackles with static as he approaches.

Mark projects shadow sneak to his underbelly but the Mareep ignores the gash and gets above him. Mark raises his arms to protect his head but the sheep pummels his chest with hard hooves. The blows weaken his guard and the Mareep smashes his temple with the new opening. His head spins and feels faint. Right before his hoof strikes his jaw, a Sneasel tackles the Mareep. Mark hears the two rumble on the floor. A lightning bolt is the last thing he hears before he blacks out.

---

As soon as Mark’s consciousness clicks, bolts right up. He holds his arms in front of himself and screams but a claw across his mouth mutes him. He starts shaking the hand off.

“You’re safe, silly. But you can’t scream, or more will find us, ok?~” the voice beside him says.

His adrenaline recedes. Still panting, he looks around: they are on top of a soft, teal mushroom cap. The canopy stretches out in front of him - the fungi that reach higher have their stems and cap undersides tinted by yellow spores. The ceiling is clear and decorated with an expanse of faux stars. Far away in the “sky” is a green glow, and to its lower right corner, a dimmer purple glow. On the other side of the “horizon” is an intense red-orange glow that illuminates the mouth of a cave. None of these lights provide a substitute for a sun or moon. To his side, Layla sits with a smile and a small bob in her head. Mark nods to her and she takes her claw off his mouth. Both their torches and bags rest beside her hip.

“What happened?” he asks.

“You got beat up pretty bad by one of Merka’s patrollers. But I was in the area when I heard you scream, so I dashingly came in and saved you because I’m your hero~. Then I fed you an Oran mushroom too, because I’m that wonderful.”

Mark looks down at his chest. It's smooth without a bruise. The only memento of the beating is a bandage wrapped around his right foreleg.

He feels Layla’s shoulder lean against his own. “You know, I never got around to warning you about Merka or Lucia. Should I explain now?”

Mark shuffles away from her. He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Who was that Mareep?”

“Ok. Uhh…” Layla says, thinking for a bit. She points to the green glow. “Look there, there’s a giant cliff in that direction. If you were to climb it and go to the far back-” she points a little down and to the left “-you’d reach Canal City. There’s a ‘City Guild’ that made the rules for everyone for the longest time, and controlled all the farms.

“And over there-” Layla points to the red-orange glow “-is the entrance to the magma caves. At the back is another town. A Tyranitar there once went ‘ThEy ArEn’T sHaRiNg ThE fOoD’ and formed the People’s Guild and they took control of some farms. They’d ‘protect the farmers’ but the farms are forced to give their food to them instead. They were very successful. The Tyranitar has since been succeeded by the current guildmaster, Merka”

She points back to the cliff. “The guildmaster of the City Guild did nothing while the People’s Guild just took their stuff, and soon citizens started starving. So someone named Lucia went ‘fucking bullshit’ and overthrew the city guild and said ‘ThEy WoN’t TaKe OuR fOoD, wE’rE a CiTy Of LaW’ and now she’s been sending people to fight over these farms and forcibly ‘protect them from Merka’ and force them to share the food with only them. They’re more violent than Merka’s guild.

“They both hate us because we’re aligned with none of them and we’re mostly outlaws. That Mareep was likely one of Merka’s guild members and assumed you were stealing. Which, I would have assumed the same thing too. Don’t bother saying you’re not stealing either, they’ll assume your Lucia’s people and that’s worse.”

Mark nods to all of this.

“Great! …Anyways, how are you feeling, Mark?” she asks.

“Huh?” He looks down and pats his body in disbelief. What are these Oran mushrooms? Oran berries only heal so little. “I feel fine. Why?”

“Why? Eh, I’ve been doing some thinking. There’s something I want to say…” she says. She takes a breath and looks to her feet, where she brushes one foot over the other. Mark waits.

She eventually looks at him with a serious expression. “I regret dropping the torch! They might find and kill us, burn our house, whatever. I used to be the kind of person who believed you can’t kill or harm more than necessary for self-defense. But I guess I stopped. People treat you like a fool if you’re like that, and my idealism put Andy in trouble once. They burned our house down and chased us out of Canal City thinking we were criminals. Andy doesn’t resent me, but me being ‘nice’ hurt someone else without making anything better, you know?

“But mostly,” she looks down to her feet. The ball of her foot digs into the cap. “I guess I became more afraid of dying. So now I kill people who may harm me later.”

The two are silent. The crackling of their torches feels overwhelming. Mark looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m afraid of dying too.”

“Hm. You still saved me anyways though. Why?”

“You couldn’t have been that bad if you saved me. You’re still helping me even after yesterday’s fight.”

Layla rubs her claws against each other. “Yeah. I guess. Either way, I want to be more like my older self, make things better for people. But being nice and mighty won’t help anyone, it’ll just get us killed.”

She takes a deep breath and turns to him. She holds Mark’s claw with both her hands and stares into his eyes.

“The real problem is that we’re underground. There’s no food so people fight and kill and you’ll only survive by killing and fighting first. That Mareep? He gets more food the more problems he deals with. So Mark-” She squeezes his hand. “-Let’s find the surface together! Not for your memories, but so we can save everyone! Just like how you saved me! There’s enough room for food on the surface, and you’re the only one who can read Human Script. I need you!”

He winces with how much pressure she’s putting on his claw. He thinks about how his naivety has punished him many times, but then he notices her eyes. They’re desperate. He can see they’ve seen horrors far worse than what he’s been through so far. The pain hurts him.

He takes a deep breath and places his other claw on top of Layla’s own claws. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

Layla lunges into Mark, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Thank you sooo much! You’re amazing!” she says. She pushes him to the ground and rolls with him back and forth. Tears slide down her cheek.

“We’ll be the best team ever! Everybody far and wide will tremble at our names while we make Merka and Lucia our bitches. People will build statues of us when we find the surface! We’ll be the best people IN HISTORY and it’ll all be because of you!”

She stops with Mark on his back. He’s dizzy. She props herself up - her eyes are still tearful. “We need a team name. You get to pick since you said ‘yes’. How do you feel about Team ‘The Best’? It’s an amazing name and it's accurate.”

The heaviness of the situation weighed on him figuratively and literally, and hazing Mark’s thought process is that he’s not used to pretty girls being so close. His heart’s beating and he sinks his head into the cap. He chokes on his words. “Uh… Uhh… T-Team Surface sounds fine…”

“Hey, That’s a blush?” She wipes some tears and starts giggling. “You like how cute I am on top of everything else?”

“Wha-”

Layla presses her forehead against his own. Mark burrows the back of his head into the cap as much as he can while he pulls the corners of his lips into a smile.

“My charm is powerful, Mark! But don’t worry, when the time comes, you’ll be part of my army of cute boyfriends and girlfriends~. You’ll get the love you so want and you can hold me all you want~” she winks, before losing herself laughing.

He tries to keep the smile up, not wanting to ruin her fun. But he finds it isn’t hard - he’s enjoying the energy. Plus, she is beautiful. He thinks about what he said then glows red, turning his head away.

Layla pinches his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Irresistible. I should have warned you before I’m a mean tease~”

She pulls herself off of him and offers a hand. Mark nervously chuckles. He takes her hand and gets pulled up.

“Ok, phew. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go to where I think that Gallade’s key goes. Actually, no. How about we find a mission instead and help somebody. Wouldn’t that be a better way to kick off this team, eh?” She says.

Mark smiles and nods. He likes that idea.

“Alright. Pick up your torch and bag, and we’ll head out. Although before you do - are you sure you want to keep the name ‘Team Surface’? That’s such a lame name, I don’t care I came up with it.”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, realizing the nonsense he signed up for.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 5
Heated Competition​

Mark sees a purple-and-blue void shifting around, never making form. Two unclear voices reverberate in the distance: Mark’s own voice and a feminine voice. Time passes, and they become discernible…

"What do you enjoy most on quiet nights? Reading a book? Starting a campfire? Or simply resting?" the female voice asks.

Mark hears himself speak. "I like to watch the stars and moons, see if I can spot any constellations or catch a shooting star. I would spend hours looking at the night sky whenever I was alone. They kept me company."

There's silence. Mark wonders if the interview has stopped, but then his own voice breaks the silence. “Don’t worry, I’m ready for it.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s move on. A friend squirts a water gun at you. What do you do? Join them? Tell them to stop? Run away?"

His own voice replies, but it is incomprehensible once more. Their voices drift further away and everything becomes black.

---

“Waaaa!” Mark shouts. Layla hauls him out of bed backward by his shoulders. His legs limply drag along the floor.

“Come on come on come on! I have a partner now and we’re going to do our first mission! Let’s go now! No waiting!” Layla says.

“Layla? Shouldn’t I have my torch and bag? And shouldn’t I wake up all the way first?” he asks, bending his arm awkwardly to pat her’s. His vision clears just now.

Layla drops him. He grunts when he hits the floor.

“You’re right! Those are important!” she shouts, smashing a fist onto her palm.

He gets onto his feet and rubs his face, but foolish of him to assume he’d have the time. She tosses his bag towards him, which he snaps awake to catch in time. He slings it over his shoulder just in time to catch the torch that follows.

“Okay, let’s go!” she says, pulling his forearm.

Mark’s legs get moving.

---

Layla drags his adventure buddy to the town plaza. Mopey, beat-up Pokemon still aggressively exist around the town, but there are fewer pokemon roaming the tight alleyways than yesterday. It must really be early morning. The only active places are the bulletin board mercenaries reading each post and those bargaining at Leon’s stall. Layla wedges them into the board-reading crowd.

“Okay Mark, I’ll find which ones seem good, and let you pick any one you want, assuming I agree with your decision. Then we’ll get food. Anyways,” she says, tapping her claw on her chin as she reads what’s available.

Mark busies himself by examining the strangers around him. In the back, an Arbok towers with a torch in its maw. Beside them is a familiar wilted, yellow Carnivire who bobs his head. Next to Mark is a Munchlax with bloodshot eyes. A Mankey and Clobbopus behind him. There are still more adventurers to examine but a scream from Layla distracts him. All the adventurers look at her as she tears off a posting. She drags Mark outside the group, moving a quarter-way around the fireplace before shoving the mission request into his face.

“Mark! Read it!” she says.

“I can’t read…” It's too close to even make out the shapes of the letters.

“Oh yeah, you’re illiterate. That’s hilarious. Anyways,” she pulls it out and holds it in front of her. She clears her throat. “‘I’ve lost my daughter in Clear Crystal Chasm. She walked off on her own and not only am I too weak to enter it, but I’m looking after another child who I can’t abandon. Please rescue her! She’s sweet and I don’t know how long she may last. I don’t have much, so I can only give 150 poke. She should be about 10 floors deep into the dungeon. Her name is Millie. She’ll respond if you call out to her. I can’t tell you what species she is as I’m hiding my identity. If you show the child to Myla, she’ll tell you where to deliver her.’

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?” she says, looking up to Mark.

Mark smiles. “Saving a child is perfect for a first mission!”

Layla leans against his shoulder. “Ok, but do you know what the most exciting part is?”

“What?”

She puts more weight on him. “Clear Crystal Chasm has the door that the Gallade’s key will open! We’ll knock two birds out with one stone, and this easily too. Can’t you believe it?!”

“That’s incredible! How far away is it?”

“It’s closer than where I found you, although the Mystery Dungeon itself takes a long time to descend cause if you take a wrong step, you’ll die. It’s fun!” She grabs his forearm again. “Let’s go get breakfast over with!”

“Yeah!” Mark says, a smile growing wider.

Layla pulls Mark and he follows into Myra’s Cafe. He makes sure to drop off Andy’s map while he is there and to his surprise, Bali has made Myra hand over a pouch of 500 poke. They order mushrooms fast, devour them even faster, and head off.

---

They walk out of town and through a hole in the forest into the Lower Tunnels. After seeing the farms above, Mark is shocked to remember how indistinguishable this area is. There is no noticeable feature other than various junctions and the odd stalagmite or stalactite. The only things breathing life around here are the crackle of their torches and their own footsteps. Wanting to sate his hunger for curiosity, Mark looks at Layla’s map over her shoulder. She holds it up for him to see. They have to stop every so often to double-check or backtrack.

“Hey Mark, do you know about the Clear Crystal Cave?” she asks.

“No.”

“Of course you don’t. It’s one of the coolest Mystery Dungeons! Before Scrap Town existed and before people even settled in the Magma Caverns, there were adventurers who explored these tunnels. This Crystal Chasm was discovered during this time. For whatever reason, the crystals in that cave were considered valuable then. Explorers would come and take crystals to sell them back at home. Then some guys got the funny idea to ‘control’ the cave and soon different groups fought over it, most fights being in the chasm itself. That fighting turned it into a Mystery Dungeon. It is the second-ever Mystery Dungeon in the underground, to our knowledge. It’s wild too, because this is so far from everything else!”

Mark nods. “Yeah. Some crystals were valuable on the surface as well. I can’t remember which ones though. I think they are worn by embedding them in accessories you’d wear on your finger?” He scratches his head. He can visualize jewelry, but can’t remember seeing it ever worn by anyone.

“Really now? That’s a cool idea! Well, get this Mark. There are human ruins around this place as well!”

Mark turns to Layla. She nods. “Yup, that’s right. Ruins are littered everywhere.”

That reminds Mark about something. “Oh yeah, Layla. When I was traveling with Bali yesterday, I came across a graveyard. Well, ‘human ruins’ where stones were stuck in the ground, with human text on them. Do you know about those?”

“Of course I do! That’s ritual ground to summon a being from another world, right?”

“What?”

“What else would it be? They use the power of human script to communicate with beings from beyond. That’s why all the stones are arranged in such unusual patterns. If not that, then some other ritual. Or a game? Tell me I’m right, Mark!”

“The… stones mark where they bury people. There are people buried in the ground there.”

“Why would they bury people?!? That’s horrible!” Layla shouts.

“No! Only when they’re dead!”

“What? But that accomplishes even less!”

“Well, the bodies have to go… Somewhere?”

“If they’re dead then they should just be eaten, that at least accomplishes something.”

Mark is speechless. Don’t think about what she just said don’t think about what she just said don’t think about what she just said-

“Wait, so if bodies are buried there, they should still be there, right?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. They should be. Or at least, they’d be in ‘coffins’ buried under the ground. Why?”

Layla beams. “There might be clues there! If this door doesn’t work out - which it totally will - then that graveyard will be our backup plan. Oh! Mark, we’re here!”

They turn the corner and Mark is stunned. There are many sparkles that group to form impressions of the edges and points of crystals, although he can’t see the surface of the crystals themselves. Together, they knit a tapestry of prismatic orange-yellow sparkles.

Mark walks up to them but Layla juts an arm in front of him, stopping him from walking over a sheer drop. Crystals jut out of the cliff face below the edge. The light of his torch reaches these ones and illuminates their surface: they have a translucent light-blue fade and surface reminiscent of glass or diamonds. He can make out their shape up close clearly unlike the ones across from him. They don’t reflect his image.

Past the jewel below him is an infinitesimal field of stars of varying sizes and strength, creating facades of a million crystals below with no bottom. Mark moves his head; the sparkles pop in and out, moving in random directions in defiance of parallax. The glimmer is refracting through many unseen crystals. Every other direction save forward has this tricky illusion for they’re standing in a hole cut into one of two walls coated in these crystals.

“It’s enchanting, huh? So much so that you didn’t notice the human artifacts?” Layla says, bumping his side.

“Huh?” He looks frantically and sees a crane on treads at the other side of the mouth. He walks to it, and more come into the light: there are minecarts without wheels behind the crane, and supports for a lift are built over the ledge.

“Do you know what they are?” Layla asks.

“The large structure over there is an elevator. It would have raised and lowered humans and equipment to the bottom quickly. And the vehicle there-” he points to the crane “-would do the same. Behind it are probably just bins, there are no wheels on them. They would carry stuff.” He looks to Layla. “They must have been mining these crystals.”

She nods. “Interesting Anyways, we gotta fina a child and make it to the bottom so let’s get going. By the way, when we descend, it’ll stop being a ravine. It’ll be something, don’t think too hard about this place.” She walks to the ledge of the chasm and holds her torch over it. She steps along the lip, carefully looking at the different gems jutting out below the ledge. She jumps off.

Mark’s heart skips a beat and he runs to where she jumped off. Her face stares back up to him from below. A long, wide crystal supports her just three feet below the ledge.

“Watch your step, Mark. This dungeon is unlike anything else,” she says, turning around to walk along with the crystal gracefully. Mark takes a deep breath and leaps onto the crystal. His legs bend naturally for the impact. The surface under his feet is as smooth as glass.

He follows Layla, keeping his arms out to balance. He fights the urge to look down.

---

Their pace is careful as there is no ground. They shuffle over barely wide crystals protruding incredible distances from both sides of the chasm, jumping down wherever they cross. Jumping down each time makes Mark’s heart skip two beats. Piling onto the peril is shrieks of Pokemon below they have yet to meet.

The two eventually drop onto a crystal that is perfectly parallel to the chasm walls, which is impossible - they haven’t moved far along the wall. Yet, a short walk along this jewel and gleaming Mark believed was the far away come right in front of his face. A small tunnel is formed by numerous small crystals. Mark works out how this space can even be, before remembering Layla saying not to think hard about this place.

They pass through the tunnel. A humongous crystal angled downward extends below the exit. They are in a new cavity where the infinite illusion is now in all directions, making a mockery of geometry and perspective. It is a void. As they trek downwards, the crystal ramp subtly narrows every few steps and they pass spiraling columns of gems twisting around from nowhere.

A ringing screech grates both their ears. A Crobat swoops in from the darkness to their side. Layla swings her claw at him but they slip under it and sink their fangs into her leg. She knocks over and grunts hitting the hard crystalline surface. They drag Layla towards the edge and she flails.

“Help!”

Mark approaches them carefully, cautious of tripping. When he has a good opportunity, he dashes in and grabs her arm tight. Pulling back nearly makes him tumble but the Crobat pulling opposite keeps him up. With herself secured, Layla kicks the bat’s face with her free leg. The Crobat pulls harder but gets nowhere. They let go and they vanish into the darkness as swiftly as they arrived, Mark falling back.

They get back on their feet and look around with full alertness, listening carefully for which direction the flapping of wings comes from. A silhouette flies across the stary glimmer of the void but is too fast to follow.

“There’s someone else!” Layla shouts, pointing down the bridge. There’s an orange glow farther below them, approaching. In this one moment of distraction, Mark feels an intense sting pierce his back - the Crobat has swooped from behind. The pain forces Mark onto his hands and knees, where he shakes around to toss them off. The warmth of his life leeches through his flesh.

Layla sinks a heavy steel claw through the bat’s wings, tearing its membrane. They shrill and fly off with a tilt to the left. Mark takes deliberate breaths. The fiery glow has closed the distance by more than a half. She grabs his arm. “We need to get back to the tunnel!”

He scrambles back onto his feet and runs with Layla to the tunnel earlier. The Crobat’s dreadful cry is right behind them. Mark turns his head, but he loses his balance with this gesture and falls, bringing Layla with him.

“Mark!” Layla shouts. The bat lands once more and yells as it coats its fangs in a clear, purple-tinted substance. The two scramble but Mark knows it's too late. He winces and braces for another bite. Instead, he feels an intense heat warm his body. A great swirling jet of flame consumes the Crobat, stopping short of Mark’s feet. They squeal in agony as they roast. The bat flails and runs blindly out of the stream and stumbles off the edge in their panic. Through the clear gem, Mark and Layla watch the flaming ball fall. Its pyre creates a kaleidoscope of orange and red as it passes by numerous crystals until it becomes a distant gleam itself.

Mark lets out a hefty sigh and collapses. He loosens his muscles and empties his head. Layla giggles and sits down to rub his head. “Hey hero, we’re still not alone you know~”

“Huh?” He says. He gets up to see the flaming figure approach. They’re close enough to present the silhouette of a long body with stubby limbs in front of a ring of fire.

“Hey! I saved you!” a proud voice speaks out from the darkness. The stranger walks in range of their torchlight, revealing himself to be a Quilava. He has a suave expression and a pouch hangs on a tightly-wrapped belt around his waist. A simple, thick-banded silver ring hangs from his right ear. He has no torch.

Layla taps a claw against the surface. “That’s great and all but we had to distract them while you hit their back, not the most impressive thing! Plus, Mark here is a tough boy, so he wasn’t going to die!”

“Hey! Give me some credit!”

“I just did! You hit a pokemon while its back was turned to you!” Layla says. “You gotta do a bit more for me to shower you with the praise you want~”

“Uhh, thank you!” Mark says. “You really helped us! I may have been poisoned if it weren’t for you.”

Layla shuffles next to him and drops an arm across his shoulders. “Okay, this guy’s nice enough to give you praise, so you better be happy. He’s sweet isn’t he?”

The Quilava chuckles. “Yeah, it’s fine, what he said was proof enough. Whatcha two doing down here?” He sits down, which barely changes his height.

Layla folds her arms. “There’s a lost child in this dungeon, we’re finding her.”

The Quilava folds his own arms as well. “Oh? Millie?”

Layla nods. “Yup”.

He smirks. “Me too. Only one of us can claim the reward. Sorry to say love, but it’ll be me.”

Layla stands up and walks to him with a claw on her hip. “I’m the best adventurer, thank you, so we’re going to do it. You wouldn’t even beat me in a fight!”

The Quilava gets up and opens his arms. “Yes I can! I’ll do it right now!” They both grin wide.

“Guys!” Mark says, “We should keep this about saving the child. If we work together, we can split the reward-”

“No!” they both shout and they both charge at each other. Mark smacks his forehead. When he dares look back up, the ice- and fire-types are rolling on the crystal, wrestling and slipping weak smacks in. They precariously approach the edge many times but roll back just in time, Mark’s lifespan shortens each time it happens.

“Please, stop!” Mark shouts. They ignore him.

The Quilava pins Layla, and he spits a short stream of fire above her head. It singes the tip of Layla’s feather. “Nice try!” she shouts, bashing her knee between his legs. He winces awfully and Layla tosses him off. They wrestle more until Layla ends up on top of him. Her arms are wrapped around his neck, pressing in tight while he hacks.

“Mark! Look! I got him! I’m so awesome, aren’t I!?!” Layla says, beaming with pride and a black eye.

“Yeah, that sure is great! Keep it up? …Don’t kill him.” Mark says.

“Thanks. I won’t.”

The Quilava’s paw smacks the crystal’s surface. Layla lets go and he escapes, panting. He has a bruise on his brow and scratches along his chest. A trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth. They both grin wider than when they started.

“You’re good!” the fire-type says. “Who are you?”

“Hey! Who are you! You lost, so tell us first!” Layla says.

He chuckles and gives a two-finger salute. “I’m Jace, the dashing explorer. I don’t have that great of a reputation just yet.”

“And we’re Layla and Mark of Team Surface, the best mercenary team in the whole underground. We’re going to find the surface. You can join too, hotshot!”

Jace chuckles, wiping the blood. “I’ll think about it, I’m curious about the surface too. But I’m going to find this kid first anyways, sorry. Later!” He turns tail and dashes down the crystal on all fours. His flames illuminate the crystal spires he passes. He jumps off.

“Come on Mark! This is important!” Layla says, pulling him up.

“Eh?”

“We can’t have our first mission end with a failure! Let’s go save the child!”

“Uhh… Yeah, that would suck. Let’s go!”.

She chuckles. Then the two jog down the crystal. When they find a horizontal crystal crossing below the massive one they’re on, they plunge down.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 6
Swallowed by Darkness​

The minerals in their torchlight’s reach show a darker indigo hue this far down. The chaotic galaxy of glitter below never lets up no matter how deep they descend. Crystals stop crossing in convenient spots, which cause the pair to backtrack occasionally. They climb up steep gems, jump across gaps, and balance across long, thin crystals. All these jewels reach out for long distances and sprout from other crystals, with no final base ever in sight.

Mark even slips off an awkward ledge. Layla catches his arm. His feet kick around over the void.

“Relax. Put your hand over the ledge and swing your leg over,” she says.

He has to swing his body three times but a leg eventually gets over the crystal. It’s easy to pull himself up after this. When safe, he hugs the crystal, panting.

She gives him a devious smirk. “Careful, Mark. You could have impaled yourself on a crystal below!”

Mark shakes his head. He gets back onto his feet. His legs wobble.

Layla huffs.“That being said, we’re about ten floors in by now. We should start shouting for Millie. MILLIE”!

There’s no response, only another shriek below.

“Further we go,” she says. They reach a wall of small, shiny gems where the crystal sprouts from. It bends around as if it is a wide cylinder. To the side of where they stand is dark grey scaffolding wedged into the glassy spire. Steel beams cross each other to support the weight of the metal plates.

She steps onto its surface, her foot making a clang. Mark follows her. There is no ladder hanging on the side, so the two climb down the outside of the scaffolding, across the beams. Layla’s comfortably holding her torch in her mouth, but Mark tries to keep it held in his armpit which slows him down. He can’t tell if this or the narrow paths earlier is scarier.

The scaffolding dangles over the void with no bottom floor. Layla climbs around the corner. “Oh, here!” she says and jumps onto another gem a foot away. Then she jumps to another crystal step. Mark stuffs his torch handle into his maw and makes the leap as well. He catches the first crystal with all four limbs.

There are four more of these jewels jutting out of the massive structure, each needing a jump. Layla gracefully traverses them and waits patiently for Mark, who throws his whole body each time and clings tightly. After the last one, they approach four metal beams in a row, wedged into cracks in the crystal. They’re spaced narrow enough to walk over.

“You’re really calm for how perilous this all is,” Layla says, stepping onto the first beam, then the second. They bend under her weight. “You just woke up, how do you do this?”

Mark follows, holding onto the crystal wall with his free hand. “I have to stay calm. Panicking causes problems. Plus, I have a feeling I’ve been through more dangerous things.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s a good trait. I shouldn’t have brought a newbie to such a dangerous place so early on but whoops, haha. Don’t die.”

The final beam creaks when stepped on. After it is a plump crystal which they jump onto. It is a dead-end save for a steel girder extending deep into the starry void away from the crystalline tower. Its end is drilled into the glassy surface.

“Millie!” Layla shouts again. There are vague rumblings below. “Welp, onwards. Come on.” She steps onto the beam, stretching her arms out for balance. When her teetering steadies, she walks into the darkness. Mark follows, mirroring her form. They stagger forward until safe ground is out of sight. There is only darkness punctured with a million gleams around them.

“Millie!” Layla shouts. The same noise is heard again, clearer this time. It is a vaguely female voice.

Layla gets on one knee and yells below her. “Millie! If you can hear me, stay still and hang in there! We’re going to rescue you!”

“Trespasser!” the voice screams.

“Oh no! Hurry Mark,” she says, and quickens. Mark tries to speed up but he falls behind. The beam below them wobbles, forcing Mark to stay still until steady. A monster screeches behind him and clanging sounds signal its approach. He resumes, biting his lips. The end of the long beam comes into sight - its other support is tied around a long crystal jutting out from a twisting spire with cable. Small crystals jut out to its side, forming a neat line of steps downwards. Layla is already running down them.

Mark jumps to the landing and feels the heat of a dragon pulse flying over his head. He looks back - their pursuer is a Noivern who has a foul burn mark stretching across her right face, neck, and shoulders. Only a taff of collar fluff grows on her left shoulder, which has crisped tips. The claws on its wings grip the bar.

“Drop your bags now!” the dragon says.

“Don’t let her reason with you!” Layla shouts.

She growls and shoots another Dragon Pulse at Mark before he even responds. He rolls out of its way and it fractures the spire behind him. He gets back up and chases down the staircase, keeping a hand against the wall to balance. Layla’s torch is far away.

“Layla, wait!” he shouts.

The dragon roars and the purple glow of dragon energy explodes just below the crystal he’s on. It dislodges and his feet slip. He yells and flails while Layla shouts his name but he catches nothing. He falls.

Soaring past still air, his front hits the sloped side of a gem acting as a support to the tower. He slides down the smooth surface and falls into the empty void again. He hits another crystal the size of him, which breaks off. Both him and the debris crash into further crystalline outshoots, snapping them off. Human scaffolding breaks his fall next, the metal slamming his side and roughing up his body. The glittering avalanche above crashes down on the supports. The structure collapses, bringing him down farther with rough bumps while a cacophony of clangs and crashes overwhelms his ears. It ends with a giant boom.

He screams until the worst of the flaming agony cools, most of it in his side. Once the shock’s over, he pants and seethes. Blood spits up, splattering onto unseen ground. His limbs fidget to feel if they can move - his back right leg twitching shoots up pain that he winces over. He feels faint.

Around him, the base of colossal crystals is outlined by massive specular reflections. The illusion of orange stars is blacked out by the shapes of chaotic wreckage jutting out in a field in front of Mark. An orange flame burns away from him - it is the torch he dropped. Rods, plates, and sprouting crystals bask in its warmth. To the side, a silhouette exposes uncollapsed scaffolding.

Layla’s voice echoes above. It's unintelligible. There’s the flapping of wings as the outline of a wyvern descends by the torch. “Where are you!?” the Noivern shouts.

(Art by me)
​

Mark puts a claw over his mouth, muffling his uneven breathing. They stomp away from him - he can’t be seen in the darkness and the wreckage obfuscates his silhouette. He remembers when he was in a similar situation, and how he got out of it. It was an Oran Mushroom that healed his pain. He pats his side; the adventure bag still rests there. He reaches to its flap and unlatches it. It clinks. He freezes in terror, but the dragon continues moving around, overturning metal plates. He reaches inside, agonizingly hearing every ruffle as feels his wares. He realizes he doesn’t know what an Oran mushroom feels like.

The Noivern grunts and shuffles back to the torch, picking it up. With the light, she moves around the wreckage of metal and crystal shards with ease. Mark hurries. The mushroom he feels first has the texture and size as what he’s eaten as food. The next mushroom’s feel is unfamiliar. Some Poke rolls out of his bag and clinks on the floor.

The dragon turns. “You’re there.” She walks towards him, although her slow pace makes Mark believe she’s bluffing. He pulls out the mushroom and gambles swallowing it. Its effects aren’t immediate, but once the dragon halves the distance, the warmth fades. Strength returns to his muscles and clear vision returns. He rolls onto his feet, making another clang. The dragon laughs and charges. His side is still stiff, but he stretches shadow sneak phantom below.

Layla’s echoey voice hollers above. One of the words resembles “Millie.”

“Mom? Is that you?” a nearby child’s voice says.

The dragon stops its charge. Mark holds his breath. She turns around.

“You ambush me with children?” she says and flies to where the voice rang.

“No!” Mark shouts. He runs but trips over unseen debris and bangs onto a metal surface. While he scrambles up, he feels a loose rod. He picks it up and carefully runs through the chaotic terrain, avoiding any more tripping. The Noivern’s torch illuminates a young Kangaskhan’s child as she descends.

She picks Millie up by the wrist. “There you are!”

Millie kicks and punches the air around her. “MOM! HELP ME!”

“Shame on you. Who else is hiding?!” the Noivern says, gripping her wrist hard.

The child starts screaming. “STOP! STOOOOP!”

Layla yells again, still unintelligible.

Mark approaches them but trips over another unseen gap in the wreckage. The clang echoes.

The Noivern points the torch in his direction, bringing him in view. The sharp, twisted end of his weapon is exposed. “Don’t get closer!” she says. She holds Millie up high, dangling her. Mark gets back up and steps closer. She growls and brings the torch next to Millie’s side, who tries to sway away from the open flame. “You will approach me with your hands up, and your bag on the ground.”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” Millie says. She sobs.

Mark stops. Diplomacy is tempting, but he remembers Layla telling him not to reason with her. He won’t let naivety trap him again.

“Alright, alright!” Mark says. He holds his arms up but neither the bag nor weapon drops. “I’m approaching you slowly.”

The Noivern points the torch back in his direction. “Stop when I tell you to. And drop your weapon. I’ll make this quick.”

Each step makes the dragon’s low growl stronger. He keeps playing chicken, staring dead in her eyes to distract the shadow crawling across the ground. She eventually howls and turns the flames toward Millie’s side, but the phantasmic claw swipes her wing before she thrusts it. The torch and child are dropped while she screams. Millie yells as she hits the rough floor.

Her other wing holds across the gashes in her membrane. “I’ll kill you all!”

He rushes to her and swings the rod at her knees. There’s a cracking sound and she shrieks, falling onto her side. Mark jumps onto her and bats her head which provokes more pained yells. He keeps swinging until he spots the twisted, sharp end of the steel. He curls both his claws around the shaft and presses the end into her neck. His muscles tense, but he feels the muscle below the end of the rod shift around. Her cries fill his ears. He hesitates.

It's too late. The Noivern’s claw swipes and gouges his side and she smacks him off with a wing attack. Mark soars through the darkness and slams against an upright scaffolding plate. He scrambles on his feet, holding his wound. The Noivern picks up Millie once more, blood dripping where her claws sink in. A sharp shadowy claw rushes across the ground towards her.

She chomps Millie’s hand and pulls away.

Millie’s scream bores into their ears and rings through the whole cavern. Her hand is gone. Layla above shouts something. Mark furiously charges at the Noivern while the shadow sneak swipes and shreds new tears on her side. She ignores the cuts and cranes her head to swallow. Blood trickles from the corners of her muzzle.

Mark picks up the torch she dropped and barges his entire body into her. She lets go of Millie and wobbles. She grabs his neck and lifts him off the ground. His breathing gets tight and he kicks around. Wings flap and he’s carried upward until the bat soars through the darkness. The back of his head slams the edge of metal scaffolding causing his ears to ring and vision to blur. Another shadow sneak rushes over her wing and swipes at her neck, tearing its skin apart. Blood flows over the shadow claw and down her body while her shrills mix in with the child’s screaming. She slams his head against the metal again, dizzying him. He retaliates by sinking his torch into her membrane’s wounds. Another shadow sneak reaches for the neck again, creating fresh new gashes. Purple embers trickling from the corners of her maw illuminate them in a sinister purple glow. He gasps for air but the choking claw denies him breath. His lungs hurt.

Millie shouts “Please save me! Someone!” between anguished howling.

Mark shuts his eyes and tears well as he knows he can’t save her. He’s at the edge of passing out while the heat of the pooling dragon energy intensifies. But her grip weakens instead and they both fall. Air flies past them and her body cushions the impact against the debris, the heavy boom signaling his victory. He’s left gasping for air until vision returns to him. With his senses returned, he hears a dying child crying. He runs, lurching and holding his cuts until he arrives.

She holds the hole where her hand used to fit. Her body’s colour is faint save for her blood-soaked arm. She’s struggling to breathe between panicked screams. Mark tunes out everything and dumps his entire bag onto a plate beside her. Bandages fall out last. He puts his torch down.

“You need to lie down and hold your arm up. Keep as much pressure on your wrist as you can,” he asks. Millie obliges.

“It hurts. Please help me. I’m going to die,” she says before she is lost to uncontrolled sobs. Her mouth moves to mutter words but she can’t form anymore.

Mark’s expression is focused as he wraps a bandage around where her arm meets her shoulder - wrapping the wound itself wouldn’t be effective until the bleeding stops. He glances around and picks up a nearby short, thin steel bar and rests it over the simple wrap. The ends of each bandage tie around each end of the bar. He grips the bar with one hand while the other presses down on top of Millie’s hand covering the wound.

He looks into her eyes. “You are about to feel a lot of pain, but you need to be a big girl for me. This is going to stop the bleeding and save you. 3… 2… 1…” His claw rotates the bar and the bandage around her arm tightens. Mark takes deep breaths while the screams exacerbate.

“Everything will be ok. You’re safe. We’ll stop the bleeding and return you to your mother. Stay strong! We’ll get you out alive.” He twists a few more times, then places two fingers on the inside of the elbow. There is no pulse. The bleeding slows to a trickle.

“You’re doing great. We’re going to make it out of here.” Both his hands meet at the end of the arm, keeping the pressure up as blood slows down.

Mark counts to six hundred in his head, adding “one-thousand” for the first hundred numbers. He juggles this while listening to Millie, who speaks between anguished howls.

“It hurts so much. Make it stop. Make it stop!” Her breathing becomes an uneven pant that struggles to take in enough air to scream. Water collects under her red eyes, falling down her wet cheeks.

Tears form at the edge of Mark’s own eyes. He looks at her again. “Look at me. Breath in… And out…” He breathes along with his instructions to guide Millie.

Millie follows his lead. Her breathing steadies and her body calms. Tears don’t let up but the screams reduce to heavy groans. The blood darkens beneath their palms and only a fresh drop slips under the pressure.

“You’re safe,” Mark says.

New tears break out, streaking down her face. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I don’t deserve any kindness.”

“Millie! You are a strong girl. You did nothing wro-”

“I ran away! Mom has a new child. She’s been acting weird and only pays attention to him so I ran and… and… and… Mom will hate me!” She starts hyperventilating. Her eyes roll.

“Millie!” Mark says. A hand tilts her head to him. Her eyes focus on him. “In… Out… In… Out…”

She takes heavy, wobbly breaths.

“Your mother loves you so much. She misses you more than anything else in the world and wants to see you again. So, you must be strong, so you can see her again and make her happy again. Can you do that for me?”

She weakly nods. “Will the pain ever stop?”

“I promise it will stop eventually. We have to wait for the blood to harden, then I’ll put a bandage on it. Then we’ll wait longer, then I can take it off without overwhelming the wound. But you must be brave until then.”

She nods and looks away. Her breath is steady between pained groans.

Mark puts the hand back on the wound and continues counting to 600. The blood underneath has become black, squishy but solid, and unsightly. It coagulated. He tilts his head down and tears fall. His grip trembles and a smile stretches across his face.

She’s saved.

“What’s wrong?” Millie asks.

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re going to be okay. You can let go now, although you still need to keep your arm held up. I need to treat it. Try not to look at your wrist.”

She nods again and does all that. Mark grabs the bandage resting by him and wraps it around the ugly wound, forming two layers. It tints itself in orange.

“Think you can eat?” he asks. He picks an Oran mushroom up by its stem. He doubts they would have made a difference earlier.

She nods and nibbles the cap. He’s patient as she nibbles more and more until the cap is gone. He throws away the stem which is soiled with blood left on his claws.

Her breathing is now a pant and groans are rare and faint. Mark starts counting to 1200 while a claw stays held down on the bandaged end. The other hand reaches for Millie’s still-existing hand. Time passes as he helps her talk about happier times.

---

Layla’s voice rings out. “Millie!?”

“We’re here!” Mark shouts back.

A fiery glow approaches them. Layla comes into view and when she sees the pair, her face widens. “Holy fuck!”

The child’s still breathing heavily. Her arm is caked in dried blood while a puddle of wet blood is pooled between them. Mark’s wounded side, knees, and claws are drenched in red, with spatters of it across his face. A mineral scent is thick in the air. Millie’s head shrinks away from her.

“The Noivern bit off her hand. I didn’t stop her fast enough, but I was able to stop the bleeding.”

“How? That’s impossible.”

Mark looks over Millie. “This tourniquet stops the bleeding. I’ll have to unwind it soon though.”

“A tourniquet? What’s that?” Layla gets on one knee and looks into Mark’s eyes. “I don’t know of anybody surviving an amputation before. How do you know how to do this?”

Mark is silent. He just looks at Millie, who is looking over Layla up and down.

“Where’s the Noivern?” Layla asks.

Mark gestures his head towards the Noivern far to his left. “Over there.” She heads off.

Mark counts to 1200. He grips the tourniquet and unwinds it, cautious not to let too much blood rush in and overwhelm the sealed wound, which is otherwise strong enough to handle some blood flowing again now. Colour gradually returns to the arm. Millie takes sighs of relief.

“Thank you,” Millie says. “Thank you for everything. Can we see Mom soon?”

“Eventually. That Sneasel will tell us more.”

The tourniquet unwinds entirely and the bandages fall off, revealing a red mark around the arm. They wait for Layla to return, who looks to Mark first. “I can’t feel the Noivern’s pulse. She won’t ever bother us again.” She looks to Millie next. “Hello, Millie! I’m Layla. We’re here to rescue you. We’ll make sure nobody will hurt you!”

Millie nods and weakly smiles. “When can we see Mom?”

“Well, we’ll have to go to the bottom of this cavern first, as that’s the only way we can get out. Then we’ll go back to Scrap Town and sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll visit someone who knows where your mother is at and then we’ll head straight to her. So, you won’t see her until tomorrow. Okay?”

Millie looks down. The smile fades. “Okay.”

Layla gets back up. “Mark, how much time do you need? We ought to get moving before another dungeon Pokemon or Jace arrives. He’ll fight over us for her.”

“I’ll just give her some food then she should be good. I’ll need to carry her. Can you repack my bag?” he asks, before reaching for a food mushroom. He hands it to Millie. “Eat this, you’ll need to regain your strength.”

She takes small bites and sniffs. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“It’s okay. Eat up. You’ll feel better.” He turns to Layla, who is stuffing the strewn goods back into his bag. “We’ll need to stop by some running water on the way back, as soon as we can.”

“Okay. And I’ll carry her, you did enough already.”

Millie eats until the stem remains. She wipes her tears. Mark chucks the garbage.

“She’s ready. Let’s go,” Mark says.

---

They gently descend the rest of the way, climbing down stairs built to scaffolding pinned into crystal surfaces, or sloped glassy ground. They no longer precariously balance on narrow ledges. Mark leads, holding both torches while Layla, holding Millie in her arms, trails. She has fallen asleep, resting her head against her arm.

“Hey Mark, sorry I left you behind. I panicked. I’m not used to teamwork stuff like sticking together..”

“It’s okay. I didn’t even think of that. Plus, I made a mistake too. I could have killed the Noivern earlier but my conscience got to me. It’s my fault Millie lost a hand.” He gnashes his teeth. “I thought I was getting better.”

“It took me a while to have guts, don’t feel bad. That being said, next time you fight Pokemon in a Mystery Dungeon, remember they’re not people anymore. Death is mercy for them. Either way, you still saved Millie, so you did amazing. Unbelievable, in fact. How did you know to do all that stuff?”

“It’s called first aid, but I don’t know why I know it. I lost my memories.”

The two are silent from there on out. Floors of scaffolding make way for a long metal staircase reaching into the darkness going down. The far-off colossal crystals around form two walls that narrow. The starry illusion is weaker, like solid rock isn’t far beneath the glassy surfaces. They step onto brown-grey stone in a wide clearing. Tall scaffolding towers pushed line each side. There’s loot on the floor: mushrooms spring out of the rock in many colours, spores rest, and poke lie around. Layla walks past all this, reaching the corner of the ravine. Embedded in crystal is a black metal door with a black-screen terminal planted in the ground to the side of it. It has a small, rectangular hole below the screen.

“I’ll be quick. Hold onto Millie for me,” she says, gently setting Millie on her back. Mark comes up and picks her up, cradling her. Layla reaches the console and drops her bag, digging the flash drive out. “This is it!”

She slides it into the keyhole.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 7
Hush​

Mark shifts Millie around, getting a comfortable hold on her. Two torches lie at his feet, neither of which illuminates the black structure wedged into the glittering crystal. Layla wiggles the flash-drive key into a terminal standing to the side of the structure’s door, but it resists going in, even as she starts to shake.

“Turn the key upside down,” Mark says.

She does and it slides in with a satisfying click. The screen comes to life, displaying a patternless white background that glows on their face. Black text centers in the middle and a red geometric insignia marks the top right corner. Layla squints at the light which is brighter than their torches.

“Hey, Mark, what does it say? Are you sure this isn’t magic?”

Mark shuffles closer. He squints at the near-blinding light. “It says, ‘Invalid key file.’”

“What does that mean?”

“This key doesn’t open this door.”

Layla gnashes her teeth and shakes a fist. Mark takes a step back. After a breathless pause, she kicks the terminal and yanks the key out. “Whatever.”

“We can come back and force it open! Maybe even do it now!”

Layla shakes her head. “That won’t work. I already tried and I couldn’t even scratch it. This is blacksteel; nothing can break it and ghosts can’t phase through it.” She picks up one of the two torches and heads to the loot she ignored earlier and begins picking it up.

Mark examines the door. Its appearance is smooth, although any blemish wouldn’t be noticeable with how dark it is - the light of the torches doesn’t even reflect off its surface. He rubs his shoulder against the surface, feeling its icy smoothness. It is warm to touch.

Behind him, his partner grunts as she pulls out mushrooms from the rocky ground. Most are the dull brown colour of what they eat for meals, while a few are a familiar blue hue. Coins lying around clink together when she scoops them up. The only item lying around distinct from fungi or money is a spore with a pulsing pink glow. Her bag’s brimming when only two food mushrooms remain planted in the ground. She stuffs small crystal chunks into the remaining space.

“Does the crystal sell?” Mark asks.

“Nah. You’ll see what it's for later.” She tugs out the last two mushrooms and places one in her mouth where she leaves it hanging from her teeth. For the other, she heads towards Mark and shoves it into his mouth.

“Mmm-mmm-mff!”

“Oh it's free food, you best stop complaining,” she says, her own mushroom nearly falling out.

“Mmm-mmm-mmff…”

---

The exit is to the side. Many metal bars are lodged into the crystal wall, ascending like a staircase. They extend out of sight. Millie’s not too heavy, but carrying her up so many flights of stairs makes Mark’s arms hurt. During the climb, the dungeon remains a chasm of two parallel walls the entire climb. No pokemon growling or screeching is heard. It’s hard for Mark to believe he fell from a wide crystal spire in the middle of a void. They reach the top eventually, which ends beside the human lift. Two steps onto the even ground, Mark looks back - the stairs are gone.

Layla kneels and shuffles a map out of her bag. “You said we needed water? There should be a stream nearby.”

“Yeah. Running water, ideally. We need to clean the wound so it doesn’t get disinfected.”

“Oran mushrooms stop infections…”

“Oh. Well, she’ll still need to drink water to recover her blood.”

“Alright. Plus you need it to wash off too, Mark. Although the colour red looks nice on you!” Layla says with a giggle. She gets up and guides them down the tunnel.

It isn't a long walk through echoey brown-grey tunnels until the silence is broken by intermittent drip-drops. A gurgling sound joins it as the solid earth breaks away to a basin of water swirling at a lethargic pace. A crack beneath the pool drains it out like a clogged kitchen sink, while broken streams flow out the wall. A rich mineral scent lingers in the air.

He sets Millie down by the small waterfalls and nudges her awake. “Hey, you thirsty?” he asks.

She stirs and nods with a faint smile. She gets up with wobbly balance and puts her head under its flow, lapping the water. Water runs past her cheeks and flows off her chin as she drinks plenty. They wait patiently. One last big gulp and she wipes her mouth with her arm. She turns back to Mark and wraps both arms around his waist. Her head buries into her side and she sniffs. “Thank you so much.”

Mark smiles and wraps his arms around her too, rubbing her back. “You did really well. You were so tough back there. We have to clean your wound now though, okay?”

Her head bobs up and down into his skin. He separates her, nudges her to the stream, and unwinds the red bandage capping her stump. New skin is healing over the nasty lump of dried blood faster than Mark expects. He holds it to the stream, letting the clean water rush over it. Small black bits run down the current, as well as a slight amount of blood. He asks Layla for a new bandage once it's clean and wraps it around a few times. The bandage stays a sterile white.

Millie sniffs. “My hand’s not going to come back, right? What will that mean?”

Mark’s head tilts down as he deliberates his response. “...You’re right, your hand will not come back. But that doesn’t mean bad things are going to happen. It’ll be hard but you’ll adjust to life without a hand, and you’ll find you can still do a lot that you love. And you’ll still have your friends and families there for you”

Millie slowly shakes her head. A fresh tear drops down her cheek. Mark hugs her, patting her head and rocking her gently. “Everything will be alright,” he says.

Layla grimaces. She distracts herself by dropping her torches and bag, and examines the blood drain down the gentle whirlpool. Once it's washed away, she jumps with a splash and shuffles deeper until she sits down neck-deep. She focuses on scrubbing dried blood off her with her palms.

The child’s eyes close and she dozes off. Mark gently sets her down.

“Hey! Come join me!” Layla whispers, gesturing with both arms. “Get that blood off you!”

“Oh, sure,” he says. He approaches the edge of the pool and notices his reflection. Even though the running water distorts the image, it’s the first time he’s seeing himself. It confuses him, not because it’s not what he expects, but because he feels no problem with what he sees. Shouldn’t he be having an identity crisis? The body proportions also look off. He’s sure how they’re off, but he’s not concerned about that either. The only thing he doesn’t like seeing is the red coating his body in many spots like a monster.

He falls despondent to the floor, looking down at both his blood-painted claws.

“What’s wrong?” Layla asks.

“I took someone’s life. I mean, I saved Millie because of it. But…”

He feels sick to his stomach and his ears ring. Layla walks out of the pool and grabs his hands.

“Oh, just join the cute attractive lady for a bath,” she says. She drags him into the current where the water rushes over his skin in a comforting manner. She plants him down right by the spot she was sitting before. Both her arms wrap around his side and her head leans against the side of his body.

“Are you teasing me again? Like that whole ‘boyfriend army’ thing?” he asks, breath getting tighter from the closeness. “This isn’t a great time for that.”

Her tone lacks its normal sass. “I just want to hold someone, if that’s okay. It makes me feel better, and it's been a while since I was able to.” She sighs, putting more weight against him. “My heart wouldn’t stop pounding after you fell away, and it didn’t stop seeing the mess of you and Millie. You looked like the stuff I see in nightmares. I was so scared.”

He hesitantly reaches his arms around Layla. She’s so warm and soft. “Y-you can hold me.”

Layla smiles. They’re like this for a while. His arms relax after a while when his body realizes holding a girl won’t kill him. He looks away and thinks over everything that’s happened in just three days.

Eventually, Layla speaks again. “By the way, if it means anything, I don’t feel great killing either. It does get easier the more you do it, you know. It just feels normal like eating or fighting. I do try to leave Dungeon Pokemon fainted if I can. Non-dungeon Pokemon though? Well…” she’s silent for a moment. “...the guilt does ease up after a while, okay? Especially when you think about how you still have your own life. But, you saved someone, Mark. Focus on that! Like, not only you defended her, that human magic you did on her arm is fantastic, nobody in the underground can do that! It’s truly amazing! Be proud!”

Mark sheepishly nods his head. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “Hey, Layla, is there anything unusual about my body?”

“Yeah! You’re an incredibly tall Sableye.”

“Huh?”

“You’re as tall as I am! It’s super cute. You’re the tallest Sableye in the underground, probably. You’re kind of lanky because of it too, but that makes you even better boyfriend material.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Heh, you’re welcome. But, let’s actually get you cleaned up, okay?”

They part. Mark scrubs off any remaining blood the current didn’t already take away. It's difficult without a sponge or soap. He splashes his head into the water a few times and rubs his face, unsure of if any spots are missed. Once his body is decidedly purple again, they step out, shake themselves free of water, and pack up. Mark picks up Millie once more while Layla holds the torches. They head to Scrap Town together.

The three have a long, well-earned rest when they arrive home.

---

Mark sees a purple-and-blue void shifting around, never making form. Two unclear voices reverberate in the distance: Mark’s own voice and a feminine voice. Time passes, and they become discernible…

“A hand extends out of a toilet! What do you do?” she says.

“What? What kind of question is that?”

“I told you, we didn’t have a lot of time to write these! We’re nearly at the end though. Would you scream and run, close the lid without a word, or shake hands with it?”

“Is it disembodied, or is there a full giant monster in there? Can I help it if the former? You can stuff disembodied hands into ice bags and have them reattached later. Well, if you’re fast enough.”

Mark feels his right wrist being tapped.

“Mark, please stick to the options, it's hard to improvise…” she says.

Their voices drift further away and everything becomes black.

---

A smooth claw prods Mark’s cheek until his eyes blink open. Layla stands above him with that smirk.

“Hey, wake up!” she whispers. “We’ll get Millie out to her mother today! Then we’ll dig up those graves for clues next! Isn’t that exciting?”

He’s lying on the rough ground and his back feels sore. He rolls his head to see Millie’s tail hanging over the cushion he normally sleeps in. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Waking up time, of course!” she says, prodding him twice as hard. “Come on!”

“Okay, okay,” he says, weakly swatting her claw away. He gets onto his feet and stretches long and hard, thankful she’s giving him time to do a morning routine this time. Layla busies herself organizing her bag. Once blood is pumping well throughout his body, he approaches Millie and nudges her shoulder. She blinks.

“Good morning. Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Millie takes a bit of time to come to. She tries to sit up using both hands but winces when she presses down on the wound. She collapses back down, grabs it, and whimpers.

“Careful!” Mark says.

She rubs the bandage stub. “It still hurts.”

Mark forces himself to keep a smile. He offers his left hand. “Do you want to get some food?”

After a few more rubs, she reaches with the stub. Her face shows some defeat as she swaps to the correct arm. Mark pulls her out of bed and gets her steady on the ground. Layla throws the bag over the Sableye’s shoulder and the three head to Myla’s cafe.

---

The three eat a hearty breakfast of mushrooms and drink bowls of water around a table in the corner of the warm, fire-lit cafe. Layla had a special order to make the child’s meal big and tasty and Myla obliged, for a fee. Millie’s slice of mushroom is wide and she tears bites off it eagerly. It's a struggle to hold it with her hand missing, as she drops it many times and winces when she puts too much pressure against the clean bandage. Yet, she devours it with such a smile that it’s hard to believe she was traumatized just yesterday. Mark eats at a simple pace while Layla doesn’t touch her food, leaning on the table with a palm on her cheek and watching the child. Millie coughs on a bite.

“Hey, be careful! Don’t choke on your food!” Layla says, but Millie ignores her and keeps consuming as soon as her coughing fit passes. Mark chuckles.

After more time, Mark yawns. Curiosity grows in his mind once more. He looks around for unfamiliar faces or trinkets, but the Cafe is empty - it’s past when mercenaries would be prepping for the day. There’s just Myla staring at nothing in particular while a Duskull wipes the counter with a rag. A Quaxly and a Monferno do walk through the entrance just when Mark lifts a bowl up for another sip. They approach Myla.

“What do you know about a missing Galade named Aquila and a Machamp named Sonny?” The Monferno asks.

Mark looks back to Layla and freezes. Layla’s lax attitude melts when she notices Mark’s body language. Millie keeps tearing new bites off the mushroom’s stem.

“Listen,” Mark whispers.

She tilts her head, angling her ear towards the counter.

“I only answer when paid,” Myla says. “500 for a pair of pokemon.”

The Monferno growls and sticks a hand into his bag to dig out the poke. Coins clatter across the counter, where she sweeps them up and phases them directly into her body.

“Both of them belong to Lucia’s guild. They were seen around the farms above and adjoining tunnels, but they have never entered Scrap Town. They kept their distance from others - seems like they had a mission and Lucia either didn’t want to disturb peace here any further, or it was meant to stay quiet. Either way, I’ve heard nothing about them in three days. There has never been a job posting here referring to them,” she says.

The Monferno bangs a fist over the counter. “Hey! That barely helps us! If you don’t know where they are, give back the poke!”

The corners of Myla’s grin turn down. “Hey! I told you what I know and don’t know, and the latter's just as valuable. They’re definitely not here nor do they have any connections around this place, so searching here would be a waste of your time. They’re probably dead in the Lower Tunnels or far away here. Now get lost if you’re going to harass me.”

The Monferno shakes his fist and growls. The Quaxly puts a wing on the Monferno, waits for her partner’s impulse to subside, and jumps onto a taller stool. A bag of jingling coins lands on the counter, pulled right from her bag.

“Do you know of a Pokemon who claims to read Human Script, or claims to be human themselves?”

Myla opens the bag and counts the coins. Mark shuffles his stool partway out, ready to dash but Layla’s claw grabs his forearm. She looks firmly into his eyes. Mark gets the hint and stops.

“I know nothing about such a Pokemon. Is this an individual, or are you looking for any crazy pokemon?”

“Just an individual.”

“Well, they wouldn’t have passed by Scrap Town. I can keep an eye out for them, there’s enough money to pay for that. Would said Pokemon easily ‘reveal’ they’re are human, or that they can read Human Script?”

The Quaxly laughs. “I doubt they’d be tight-lipped. You’d already know about them if they’re around, but… Yeah, I’ll take you up on that offer. And please, forgive my companion. He’s new outside the city” They both turn and head out of the cafe. The bird has a smug smile on his beak and waves a wing, while the monkey folds his arms and refuses to look back.

Mark gives a sigh of relief, placing his claw on his forehead.

Layla giggles. “You’re wanted by more than me, Mark~” she says.

Mark nods and glances at Myla. Her body faces directly at him. Their eyes lock.

“You all done?” Layla asks Millie.

“Mmm-hmm!” Millie says. “When do I see my mother?”

“We’ll work on that right now. Come on, Mark!”

“Huh? Oh,” Mark says, breaking his trance with Myla. They get up and walk to the counter, Layla holding Millie’s hand.

Myla’s still staring coldly at Mark. “Come with me to the back. Noir, stay out here until I’m out,” she says. The other ghost nods. She guides them to the end of the bar and around a corner. Millie shifts behind Layla’s leg and her smile fades. Her grip on her thigh hardens. There’s a door leading to the backroom. The ghost phases through it, leaving Layla to open it with a creak.

Cool air hits them in the face. The fitting of the wood planks is tighter and both crates and blocks of ice sit around the perimeter. Myla is across the room, gesturing them inwards. Mark hugs himself for warmth while Millie shivers as they approach her. Many opened crates they pass reveal stockpiles of mushrooms, while fewer hold various adventurer items and poke bags sitting in them. When they’re in front of the large ghost, a prisoner Froggadier is seen tucked behind some crates in the back corner. He lays on his side, wrapped up tightly with rope, blindfolded, gagged, and his ears are stuffed with some unrecognizable material.

“Don’t mind him,” Myla says, gesturing her head to the captive. He struggles against his bindings and muffles into his gag. The child buries her face into Layla in response. “I’m just holding him until an adventurer picks him up for a mission. He won’t hear us. More importantly, can you read Human Script, Mark?”

Layla steps in front of him, holding a claw on her hip. “No he doesn’t!”

“Yes, he does. I heard you admit it to Andy,” Myla says.

Layla looks back to Mark. Her face hangs. “Why would you be so careless?!”

“I was still new to the Underground! I haven’t even been awake for 24 hours yet!” Mark says.

“24 hours?” Layla says. One of her brows rises.

One of Myla’s ribbon-arms rubs her chin mockingly. “Yes, what is an hour, Mark?”

Mark’s mouth hangs open. He takes a few steps back. “Layla, she knows! We should run!”

“It’s okay Mark,” Layla says. Her arms fold. “She already kept our secret safe. Although Myla, why did you do that? You never make exceptions.”

“I’m interested in the surface as well,” Myla says. Mark struggles to get a read on her expression - it's locked into the same, unchanging grin she always has. “If we actually reach it, I won’t have to sell information to get by.”

“Annnnnd?” Layla says.

Myla looks at her, brows scrunching up in confusion. Mark looks between the two women as the answer hangs in mystery. Eventually, Layla taps her sternum.

“...Because you like me?” she says.

Myla rolls her eyes toward Mark. He nervously chuckles and shrugs his shoulders.

Layla leans an elbow on Mark’s head, which makes his head sink into his shoulders. Her tone is sarcastic. “I know you couldn’t stand to watch your crush be carried off by Lucia’s people~”

Myla rubs her forehead. “Ugh, I broke up with you already. Plus, they’re not looking for you anyways.”

“Broke up cause there wasn’t enough of me in your life, yeah? ‘Oh Layla, how can we spend time together if you’re always adventuring.’ So yeah, I’m not wrong that you want me,” Layla responds, imitating her low voice.

Myla sinks her forehead into both ribbon-hands. Her wide smile still doesn’t falter. Mark starts suspecting she doesn’t have any other expression.

“Layla,” Myla starts.

“Well guess what! If we do find the surface, I’ll have more time to be with you, so will you be my girlfriend again when we do? We can have fun like old times!” She tugs Mark in and holds him very close against her body. He tenses again and his cheeks glow pink. The attention is awkward enough without being in front of a stranger. “Although you’ll have to share with Mark!”

Myla opens her mouth to say something, but stops. She rubs her chin and tilts her head slightly “Okay, you know what? If you will be an actual girlfriend and not a stranger days away from me once we’re on the surface, then sure, why not. You’re still cute. This is all besides the point though: I’ve sold out girlfriends before and I’ll do it to you too if someone paid enough. Nono, I’m covering you cause I want to find the surface, and you have an actual clue now. But you’ll have to do some jobs for me in return, okay?”

“Oh ho, okay. What is it?” Layla asks. Her claws scritch the top of Mark’s head.

“L- Layla?” Mark says, confused about what he is in this situation and why he likes this so much.

Myla floats over to Layla. Layla cranes her head up. Millie whimpers.

“I’ll come to you when I have something I need you to do. Okay? For now, I have nothing” Myla says.

Layla gets on her toes to smooch Myla’s chin. “Got it, love.”

“Heh,” She says, rubbing the spot where Layla’s lips touched her. “I’ll also tell you anything I know that may help you. Not that there is much for me to share - you both probably already know Lucia’s curious about humans too. She knows there’s a human-turned-Pokemon out there.” She floats away from Layla’s face and heads towards the wall. “Yet she doesn’t know it’s a male Sableye. Curious, curious…”

Millie tugs Layla’s lag. “Can we go?”

Myla stops and turns to the small Kanghaskhan. Layla twists her leg to show more of her, but the child keeps shuffling around to keep herself out of Myla’s sight.

”Hey, one of the missions was to find a girl named Millie. We have her here. Where do we find her mother?” Layla says.

“In the Undergrowth Settlement. A Frosslass named Cascade will guide you to her. They use they/them pronouns, by the way. Anyways, I’ve kept people waiting too long. Later.” Myla says. She floats backward, staring at them all as she phases through the wall as a shortcut. Mark blinks a few times in surprise but Layla’s spirits stay high. She grabs both Millie’s and Mark’s claws.

“It’s a long walk, but you’ll be able to see her tonight, Millie! We’re heading to see her right now!”

Millie smiles. “Really?”

Layla smiles. “Yes, really!”

Mark smiles.

Layla starts walking towards the door, bringing the two along with her. “By the way. Isn’t Myla so cute, Mark? You’re into her too, yeah?”

“What? She’s kind of creepy…”

“No way! I know deep down you like her too, how can anyone resist that smile? We’ll all love each other together!” she says, tugging on his arm in a playful manner.

The Frogadier slumps onto his side, but his muffled call for help is silenced further when the door swings shut behind the group. Poor froggy.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 8
No Innocence Anywhere
​

The tunnel zigzags endlessly. Mark wishes he knows how many hours pass just turning around and walking up endless inclines. When he asks, Layla only mentions they’ll be there “eventually.”

The tunnel provides distraction for Mark, at least. The ceiling is a smooth, wide arc, with no rocky spikes jutting from above or below. Grooves line the walls, unnaturally straight and shallow save for where the rock has crumbled. It's the colours that mesmerize the ghost: a chalky white mineral swirls through the grey granite like a milky whirlpool frozen in its face. The pattern only gets more intricate the more turns they take. Mark loses himself in the kaleidoscope around him, forgetting about where he is and the passing of time.

“Hey?!” Layla shouts. “Millie, stop! Come back!”

Mark snaps back to reality. His partner is far ahead of him and is running towards him, chasing Millie. The child falls and screams. Mark runs to her, although by the time he halves the distance, Layla’s already kneeling down and rubbing her shoulder.

“Take it easy. What’s wrong?” she asks.

The young Kangaskhan squirms out of her light grasp and flees again. She holds her bandaged wrist. “She hates me!”

Mark intercepts her with a hug. She struggles to get out of his grip but gives up quickly.

“I hit Darold! Then I ran away and I lost my hand. I broke the rules because I’m a bad person. She’ll hate me so much! This is what I deserve!” She sniffs.

Layla catches up once more and her claw pats her head in a comforting motion. “Millie,” she says, before looking at Mark with a face of loss and confusion.

Mark takes a deep breath. “Millie, Your mother wants nothing more than to see you. She’s sacrificing a lot to see you again. If she hated you, she wouldn’t have asked us to save you.”

Millie shakes her head defiantly. “Pokemon who hit others are bad…”

“Uhh,” Mark winces an eye as he considers his words carefully. Layla looks between the two and rubs a claw to her forehead. “You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Your mother made mistakes. I’ve made them too. So she will forgive you because although you did something bad, she knows you want to do good. It’s okay to be human in the end.” Mark blinks a lot, realizing what he said. “To be… To be…”

The message works anyways. Millie’s breathing eases and she weakly nods. Layla lets out a held breath and taps the child’s shoulder. “And she’s waiting for you. You don’t want to make her wait either, do you?”

Millie slips out of his arms and grabs Layla’s claw with a weak grip. She keeps her head down and stays silent, busying herself by prodding her arm and belly with her stumpy limb. The Sneasel grimaces but begins strolling along at a gentle pace.

Mark looks at the swirling compositions on the floor instead of the ceiling. He welcomes its captivation.

---

Vines grow across the ceiling later into the trek. They’re scrawny and pale, easy to confuse with roots. They grow in size and complexity the deeper they delve until the ceiling is hidden beneath a labyrinth of purple and whites. The thicker growths sprout leaves while stray vines hang down. The air is heavy with the scent of salt, like the ocean breeze.

Layla veers them off the middle of the path. To the side, a hole half the tunnel’s height opens up into a deep cavity. Their headroom is littered with long undergrowth coated in tickling leaves while fallen grey vegetation crunch beneath their feet. Haphazardly arranged cloth tents pop up further in. Spectral vines wrap around the peaks while they glow in the warmth of torchlight inside and out. The faint shadows of weary pokemon are seen inside.

The sound of rushing water is heard in the distance. They head towards it and enter a circular clearing of pebbles. A waterfall drops from the ceiling in the middle and streams weave out between the stones underfoot. Tall torches planted in the ground decorate the perimeter, their flames waving wildly. Flat-top rocks lie around, offering spots to rest upon. Orange and pink lights play around in the mist flowing around his legs. The beauty calms Mark, despite an eerie apprehension. It is like he is watching a beautiful ghost lie in a garden.

There is a ghost here. A Froslass sits on the far side and blends into the ethereal scene. A rich blue neckerchief is tied around their neck and they talk to a Pichu with bloodied bandages wrapped around the nick of an ear.

Layla moves past this clearing, back into the alleys. Mark looks back, confused. “Hey Layla, where are we going exactly?”

“I have absolutely no idea!” she says, chuckling. “We’re bound to find a Froslass eventually. Keep your eyes open for one, Millie!”

“Uh, I think I spotted them back there-”

“Oh! Ok! Nevermind Millie, we’ve found them!” she says, whipping around and nearly throwing Millie off her balance.
They go back to the fountain and approach them. The Pichu spots the group and scurries off. The ghost turns around to face what scared the rodent off. “Is everything alright? Do you need something?”

“Are you Cascade?” Layla asks. “We rescued a child named Millie, they’re supposed to guide her back to her mother.”

Millie peaks from the back of Layla’s leg and her eyes open wide. She pushes Layla aside and jumps into them with a hug, burying her head into their body. “Cascade!”

“Millie! Are you okay?”

She shuffles her arm to show Cascade the bandaged stump. Their expression drops into dreadful shock. “Oh, Millie! You poor thing” They hug her head tight, gently patting the top. “What happened?”

“There was, There was- Uh, um-”

Mark steps past Layla. “She was near the bottom of Clear Crystal Chasm. A Noivern got to her and-” he takes a deep breath “-ate her hand. I was able to rescue her from the Noivern and stop the bleeding.” He rubs the back of his neck, remembering the hesitation that lost her hand.

Millie digs their head into Cascade’s ethereal cloak. It pushes in like a plush doll. The ghost’s other hand reaches around to stroke her back. “My dear. You’re safe here. You’re-”

The child interrupts them. “And… And then… This Sableye here, he saved me. He killed the monster and- and- he wrapped something around my arm. It hurted a lot. The pain felt like it lasted forever.”

Cascade’s eyes glance up to Mark. Their body language tightens to a vicious suspicion.

“I applied a tourniquet! It hurts, but it stopped the blood loss!” he says, holding both his hands up. “She would have bled to death.”

“They saved me!” Millie says.

They take a deep breath and their glare melts away. “Alright. I guess you want to see your mother now?”

Millie looks up at their face. “Y-yeah. I miss her.”

“Ok. Let’s go.” They float away from the hug and reach for her stumped wrist before correcting themselves. They squeeze the hand tight and float to a wide main path nearby.

Mark follows. Layla taps his shoulder. He forgot she’s there. “Hey, you’re much better at handling this than me.”

“Huh?” Mark says. She chuckles instead of elaborating and takes his wrist to lead him once more. They trail but Cascade stops and turns around.

“Please wait by the fountain. I’ll come back with the money once she’s safe but other than that, her mother’s in hiding. I’m sorry, but please don’t follow us,” they say.

“Hey, we’re here to make sure she’s safe all the way until she’s returned,” Layla says.

Cascade sighs. They rub their forehead, thinking. “Alright. Follow me for now.”

Mark glances at Layla with a quizzically raised eyebrow. She looks back at him. “What? Haven’t you learned the hard way not to trust people yet?”

“You sure though?”

She shrugs back and moves on. Further back, tents grow denser and the ground is trampled. Shadows of huddling Pokemon project through their warm surfaces. Mark bumps into the side of a Mawile, who glances with indifference before moving on. Very few Pokemon are around on the streets, each solemn or tense with anxiety. Different from the rugged faces of Scrap Town, although they share the same amount of scars.

At the back where the ceiling descends into a wall, a two-floor facility building built into the rock stands over Mark as an opposing fortress. Cracks branch and coil beneath whirling vines like dusty cobwebs. Large squares puncture its cold surface with the glass removed long ago. Fire-lit ceilings can be soon through them. A plaque hangs by its doorless entrance, letters obscured by violet petals.

Cascade stops at the threshold and turns around. “Wait here with Millie. I’ll ask her mother if she’s willing to come out to meet you and risk exposing herself to a stranger. She may not understand your skepticism of me, but…” they shake their head. “Well, let’s hope we can keep this simple. Millie, wait with them and do not run off, okay?”

The child nods. She waddles over to Layla’s leg and rubs her own forearm as the ice ghost turns around and floats into the darkness of the tunnel.

“You really sure she shouldn’t be trusted?” Mark asks.

Layla leans an elbow on his shoulder. “No, but the job’s not done until we’re paid, so I’m just doing the job correctly.” She glances his way and leans further in, whispering the next sentence. “Plus, they’re a part of Lucia’s guild, and you already met the other guild. Anyways, forget about it. What does that say?” She nudges his shoulder in a playful manner while looking at the plaque.

He walks up and brushes aside the silky vines. “It says, ‘James Allen Botanical Research Hall.’”

“Okay! What’s that?”

“James Allen’s a name. Some buildings are named after other humans to honour them. And this building would have been used to study plants.” He tugs at one of the vine’s leaves. It pulls off with little force. “It's possible they were studying these plants and the mushrooms that grow here. What do you think? Does that sound significant to you?”

Layla shrugs. “Well, they didn’t leave anything inside. Believe me, I searched this place three times over. That being said, why would anyone be studying ghost vi-”

“Mom!” Millie shouts.

There’s a fast stomping sound from inside the building. Millie sprints into the building, almost tripping the threshold. A Kangaskhan runs towards her, with Cascade flying behind her.

“Milie!” the mother shouts.

The daughter jumps into her arms and they embrace. Tears pour down the large Kanghaskan’s cheeks and she chokes up. “My sweetheart! I missed you so much. My baby, my dear sweet baby, I was worried I’d never see you again!”

“Mom! I’m sorry”

“My baby, it’s okay. I love you.”

Layla rolls their eyes. “Hey, let’s go give them privacy,” she says, pulling Mark away. Cascade floats outside as well overhearing her suggestion. The three line up beneath a paneless window. Crying and heartfelt promises emanate from inside as they stand around.

“Hey, thanks for saving her,” Cascade says. “I didn’t think anyone would take the mission, what with the pay it had. I didn’t think I’d see Millie again.”

“We’re happy to save her,” Mark says, “although we happened to already have a reason to go to the chasm.”

Layla elbows him. “Mmm we’re trying to ‘make the world a better place,’ along the way to our goal. It’s this guy’s idea here. Plus, there was also Quilava looking for her, so someone else would have found her anyways.”

“‘The world a better place?’ Hey, that’s the aim of the City’s Guild. I know you’re a criminal, but I can look into-”

Layla folds her arms and looks away. “Don’t bother.”

Mark looks between the two. The crying of the reunited family mellows.

“Why are you here anyways?” Layla asks again after a while.

“Merka’s actions have been creating refugees. Some have gathered here and we’re trying to move them to Canal City safely.” Their eyes glance at Layla. “I’m not here to hunt outlaws.”

Layla grunts.

Cascade turns their body to her. “Why? What are you afraid of? So much so you turn down-”

“-That’s not why-”

“What was your crime? Murder?”

Layla snarls. “And you haven’t killed?”

They give a firm glare. “You know what happens to outlaws.”

Mark finds a muted vine arching out from the ground. He picks at it with his foot, attention hyper-focused on it.

“Well, I’m not here to judge," they say. “Although there’s something important to say. If you really do care about her daughter, please don’t tell anybody the mother is here. Merka’s hunting her. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to see what happens if he finds her and I’m sure you won’t either.”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t plan on telling anyone,” Layla says.

Mark nods as well. The ruffling of the vegetation he prods is loud in the silence. He starts tugging it out between his foot. It resists his pull well. He can feel how deep it is rooted…

Fresh stomps alert all three. The mother leans out with Millie bundled warmly in her pouch. Both their eyes and cheeks are wet. She digs a hand into her pouch, Millie giggling as it brushed by. “Hey, I’ll pay you now. Thank you so much for everything.”

“Hey, you’ll have enough left over for Millie?” Layla says. “There was food in the Dungeon, we’ll be fine-”

“I can’t ever owe you enough, in my life.” The mother pulls out a bag of coins. “Thank you for everything. Here, please take it. We’ll get by! I’ll make sure of it!”

Layla pops off the wall and swipes the bag. She smiles. “Hey, thank you.”

Cascade floats up to herself. She has taken out a small clinking pouch herself. “Hey, I’m thankful too. I’m serious. Here’s another 60 poke.”

“Alright, alright.” She swipes it as well and stuff both into her adventure. “Anyways, I’m not much of a sappy person, so I guess we best head off now. Mark, let’s go!”

Mark breaks out of his trance. “Huh?”

“You’re Mark?!?” the mother says. Mark nods and she jogs up to hug him. The arms crush his ghostly form, but he doesn’t resist. He pats her wides with stretched arms.

“Millie told me all about you! You’re a miracle!” she says. “You saved her despite her losing a hand! That’s incredible!”

Mark keeps patting the sides, too smushed to return words. Layla watches with a hand on her hip and a smug grin. Eventually Cascade tugs on the mother’s shoulder. “Alright, you still have to prepare for tomorrow, you best get on that now.”

The mother breaks the hug. “Alright! Sorry I can’t fully express my gratitude, you two.”

“It’s all good,” Layla says, turning around and dragging Mark away before he can suck back all his lost breath. “Just keep her safe and don’t forget the names Layla and Mark, of Team Surface!”

“We won’t! Thank you for everything!” the mother and daughter say in unison. Both wave.

Layla waves the back of her hand. “Yup, later!”

They get further away as they move deeper into an alleyway. Mark, still facing the family as he’s pulled, sheepishly waves. When he moves through the tents again, the trio head into the building “Come along, Darold” the mother says. A Pokemon disguised in the corridor’s darkness shifts around and follows the larger Pokemon.

“Hey, you gonna keep staring at them? Come on, you’re going to trip again like this,” Layla says.

Mark turns. “Who was it you killed that made you an outlaw?”

“Oh that? Pfft, I actually did nothing that made me an outlaw. A group of awful people chased me and Andy out of Canal City, and you’re assumed a criminal if you don’t live in their cities. I’ve only started killing after that happened.”

“Oh.”

“Actually, remember when I said people burned down our home because we didn’t kill them first? They were the ones that chased us out. We’re outlaws because of them, although Andy gets a pass because the guild likes his map. I don’t care though, Canal City isn’t for me and I’m glad I’m not there anymore. Anyways, let’s go home and rest! We’re digging those graves up tomorrow!”

It’s gentler going down the slopes. Layla ends up talking a lot about her stories exploring Mystery Dungeons. The trek home doesn’t feel like a long time.

---

Mark sees a purple-and-blue void, shifting and moving, and never making form. There are two voices speaking in the distance; Mark’s own voice, and a feminine voice. They become discernible…

“What kind of books do you enjoy reading?” The feminine voice asks. “There’s a lot of options this time: romance, action, mystery, horror, fantasy, sci-fi-” the voice unusually emphasizes the next option “-military, comedy, historical, or non-fiction?”

“Murder mystery.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah! They make for great food for thought. I find I use a lot of brain power just thinking about all the clues and I love trying to predict any twists and reveals. Although I find the best ones also make you think about the world as well.”

“How so?”

“Well, it hits when the person you don’t expect ends up being the preparator? Like, sometimes they are people you end up trusting, or even liking. Makes you think that anybody can be bad though, even the person you least expect.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling well.”

Their voices drift further away. Everything becomes black.

---

Mark stirs. Each time he wakes up, he forgets how dark this world is. Even his starry dreams are vibrant and luminous compared to the paltry fire in the middle, whose glow barely reaches the patched-together bag he sleeps on. Layla’s not up - it must be too early in the morning.

Four nights in a row. He contemplates why this is, but he slips back to dreamland before he remembers any theories.

---

Mark wakes up how he’s supposed to: being dragged out of bed. The morning routine flies by and before he knows it, he’s led out of Myla’s Cafe, swallowing the final bite of breakfast.

“Hey, are you not worried about disrespecting the dead?”

“What do you mean, ‘disrespect the dead?’ Bullshit! You respect the living Mark, not the dead! How would digging up a corpse be disrespectful anyways? Oh, hey Leon!” They approach his stall. His eye roams over the two as Layla leans over the counter. “Sweetie, getting a lot of customers? Is that shovel and pickaxe available for rent?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You know the rate.”

She winks and digs coins out of her bag. Leon’s piercing eye trains onto Mark and he looks away with a shiver. He watches other Pokemon instead. Obnoxious arguing comes from the board’s crowd. Others nip their breakfasts around the plaza, peering at everyone. A group of pokemon with a few fire-types walk in, looking around. A Quilava with an earring leads it

Two loud clunks are made on the counter. “Here you go. Return them by the end of the day. Please.”

Layla drags both tools off, which smack against the ground. “Got it babe. Anyways, Mark. I want to break stuff so I’ll use the pickaxe, so you’ll get the shovel. Got it? Mark? Hey, what’s wrong?” She looks in his direction.

Jace’s eyes lock onto his. He points their way, shouts, and he and his team run towards them. Layla drops their tools to run the opposite way, yanking Mark along. They hear the smack of Leon’s facepalm behind as they swerve through decrepit alleys. They push aside snarling pokemon, dodge haphazard rebar, jump over jagged sheets, and duck under an arced beam. The clamour behind them never lets up.

They reach the end of town where padded earth lies between the last row of huts and the edge of the mushroom forest. A Combusken jumps from the roof behind them and lands in front, blocking their path. Layla keeps charging forward, pointing the sharp end of her torch to stab him, but he kicks her in the head before she plunges. They both tumble over. She holds her cheek where nasty bruises grow and screams. He scrambles up but before he’s steady, an arm warps under his shoulder and arm and holds him. He struggles to no effect for another Pokemon hooks his other arm and keeps him held up with his front exposed. Jace and a Salazzle do the same for Layla, who resists far longer than he does.

He glances at his captors - a Fraxure and an Audino. He looks back at the Combusken with a forced snarl that fails to hide his fear. “What do you want?”

“Where’s Daisy?” the Combusken asks. Mark looks over to Layla for a hint on how to respond. No answer; she keeps pulling against their hold.

The Salazzle pounds her gut to keep her still. She spits blood out. “We don’t know a Daisy. Let us go.”

“What have you done with Millie then?” Jace asks. “Where is she?”

“What’s it to you?” She tries to bite his shoulder, but it’s out of reach.

The Combusken steps in front of Mark and kneels. He yanks his chin towards him.

“Please!” Mark says. “We don’t know what’s going on! We delivered Millie back to her mother! We don’t know a Daisy.”

Embers drip from the corner of his beak. “Daisy is Millie’s mother. Now, tell us where she is, or I’ll cook your throat.”

“Stop, stop!” Jace says to his allies. “There’s probably a misunderstanding. Layla, Mark - Daisy kidnapped Merka’s son. We were trying to rescue Millie and use her to get Darold back, but you must have done a mission posted by them, unaware of all this. So, you’ll just tell us where she is, okay? We don’t want to hurt you know-”

Layla stomps on Jace’s foot. He yells and loosens his grip enough for Layla to break free and tackle the Salazzle onto the ground. She furiously gashes her, only to be met with another kick from the Combusken. She reels on the ground, hugging her side.

“Layla! We need to stay calm!” Mark shouts.

The fighting-type kicks her once more, forcing her onto her back. He slams a foot onto her neck, making her choke. She desperately scratches his leg but he ignores the blood trickling down. “Where is Daisy?”

“Mark! They’ll kill Daisy! Millie will have no one,” she says with strained breath.

“What?” Mark says. He looks at Jace. “Is this true?”

Jace looks Mark in the eyes with a firm expression.

He doesn’t answer.

The Salazzle walks up next to the Combusken, looking down at Layla and sliding a whip of fire from her wrist. The Combusken presses down on Layla’s throat. “Where is she?” he shouts.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 9
Trapped in Hell
​

Layla chokes under the Combusken’s pressing talon. Her face turns red like the blood dripping down the claw marks on his leg. Mark shakes his shoulders to get the two captors off him but their hold tightens. The Salazzle cracks her whip, the tip gracing inches away from her face. She gasps for air.

“The Undergrowth Settlement!” Mark shouts. The attackers turn their heads. Layla sucks in a deep breath.

“Undergrowth Settlement?” the Combusken says.

“Lucia’s Guild is there or something,” Mark says. “They said something about ‘refugees.’ I don’t know much more, but we delivered Millie to her mother there”

Each enemy looks at Jace. He nods. ”It sounds good.”

They let go of Mark and flee into the forest. He crumbles onto his knees. Layla rubs her throat and scrambles up, dashing after them. Mark dives into her, pinning her to the ground and fighting her struggle.

“They’re getting away! We must stop them!”

“Layla! Stay calm!” he shouts. Layla goes still and widens her eyes, chilled by his ferocity. He gulps. “We… We can’t get ourselves killed over Daisy’s wrongdoing. We can’t find the surface if we’re dead.”

She pounds the earth and glares into the forest. “I know you’re right!” She beats the earth again. “But we just returned Millie! And now her mother is going to die! Gah.”

He feels her body reluctantly relax and eases his hold. She stands up. “Is there really nothing we can do? Please Mark, you know how to think of stuff.”

“Well, which way is it to the Undergrowth Settlement?” Mark asks.

Layla points to the town past Mark. “That way. Why?”

“Well, if we run now, we’ll be ahead of them. We can warn Daisy and have her return Darold.”

She grasps his arm.

---

They cut through town, Layla ramming aside any Pokemon in her way. Mark struggles to keep his legs up with her manic speed. Falling behind keeps getting met with a yank from Layla. They burst out on the other side of town and slip into the mushroom forest. Mark stubs his foot failing to jump over rocks and roots. The forest blurs by and they exit out onto the slow inclines of the connecting tunnel.

“Is Jace going to run this hard? Should we not pace ourselves more?” he asks.

“I think he’s meeting up with teammates. I’m worried they’ll have fast Pokemon.”

They say nothing more as the marathon stretches on. They pass many turns yet vines don’t come into sight. Pain swells in his legs, then his sides. The beating pounding of his heart overtakes the sound of their echoed stomps. The twisting patterns of black and white warp around his vision as his head becomes light and pained tears swell under his eyes. He keeps forcing his legs to move even as they scream.

He collapses. The rock floor feels so comfortable.

“Mark!” Layla shouts. She jogs up onto him and collapses onto her knees. She tugs his shoulders. “We’re only a third way there!”

His head hangs when he’s lifted off the ground. He speaks between heavy gasps. “This body’s not fit enough. Just go ahead.”

“We’re going together! I’ll carry you!”

“You’ll be much slower! Just warn Daisy on your own!”

Layla pulls him onto his knees. “I need you!”

Mark looks at her. “What?”

They stare at each other. Layla stutters but can’t make words. She lays him down instead and sits cross-legged.

“What are you doing, Layla?” he asks. He rolls onto his back to see her but he’s distracted by the twisting patterns above constricting his throat.

“I don’t want to leave you alone to meet whoever Merka’s sending. I didn’t think this out very well. Forgot you only ‘woke up’ days ago.”

He closes his eyes. The shapes don’t stop invading him. “I can work something out with them. Say I tried to stop you. But please, Millie deserves a mother. Do this for her.”

She pulls him into a hug “I’m sorry.”

He sighs. He’s confused but the despair in her voice is too prominent. She can’t be alone. “Alright. Let’s try walking together. Maybe they don’t have a fast team.”

“Well, it’s too late anyways.”

He opens his eyes. Down the tunnel behind them is a faint fire approaching fast. It outlines a Quilava.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Layla shouts.

He comes into view and stands on his hind legs. “I had a bad feeling so I chased your torch until I knew where you were going. Would have caught up earlier but you two sure were desperate. Now, how about you? What are you doing?” His quills flare up. “You trying to keep Darold away from his father?”

Layla stands up. “No. I’m not cool with the kidnapping, but I won’t let Millie lose her mother again. She’s innocent in all this.”

He snarls. “Daisy’s a criminal! Scum like her should have thought twice about having children.”

“I don’t care. We’re saving her and getting Darold back without your intervention. Merka’s gonna have to beat you up instead!”

He gets on all fours, tensing up to charge. “Fine, let her steal children whenever she wants. I’ll just stop you right here.”

“Bring it on then.” She readies her claws.

The two stare at each other. Mark rolls over onto his knees. The shadow he projects wavers.

“...’Team Surface.’” Jace says. His flames disappear into smoke. “Were you serious about finding the surface?”

The shadow sneak evaporates. Mark squints at the fire type.

“Shut up,” Layla says.

“You found a key, haven’t you? I know where it goes.”

She digs her heels in and growls. “Shut up!”

“I’ll go with you,” the fire-type says. “I’ll make sure Darold is returned myself and you can have Daisy run off since you care so much. But in return, you let me join Team Surface.”

“Fuck you.”

“Layla,” Mark mutters between heavy breaths. “Listen to him.”

“Why? Why could he possibly want to join us?!?”

“I want to find the surface as well!” He steps forward cautiously. His arms flail with vivid body language. “Now please. Refuse, I knock you out and wait for Merka to arrive. Who knows what he’ll do when he finds you! But let me do this? I know my way around him. I’ll get him off your back. You tried to save Darold yourself but failed to stop Daisy from fleeing. He’ll believe me saying that. But you got to answer now, because Merka travels fast and his whole team is quadruped Pokemon running this way. What will it be?” He points to Mark. “I’ll even carry him for you.”

Layla grits her teeth.

“Take it, Layla.” He gets the strength to stand with a teeter. “For Millie. Darold too.”

Layla turns her back to them. “If Millie is still with Daisy by the end of the day, I’ll let you join. Now, go!”

---

Mark buckles around on Jace’s back. It feels unnatural - he can feel each of the Quillava’s muscles tense beneath him. Layla matches Jace’s pace with incredible endurance. The cavern mouth of the settlement approaches and they rush into it. Layla leads them to the fountain. Jace bucks Mark off and dunks his head into the cool water, lapping it up. She joins and both gulp loudly. The new behaviour is unsettling to Mark. He gets up and looks in all directions hoping to catch Daisy or Cascade just out and about. There’s only smatterings of orange in the distance; less tents are lit. No Pokemon roam around. The only company Mark has is the deathly vines reaching down to drag him into the afterlife.

“Okay, where is she?” Jace asks.

“There’s human ruins at the back of the cave. We delivered Millie to her there. Keep your eyes out for a Froslass with a blue neckerchief, they seem connected to Daisy. Follow me.” She leads.

“Why is nobody around? Is this normal?” Mark asks.

Jace sounds resentful. “We beat the morning curfew.”

“Not even that,” Layla says. “This town’s morning is much later than Scrap Town’s morning. Nobody’s even awake yet.”

Does every town have a different ‘morning?’ Mark wonders. He ignores the thought to stay alert in the agonizingly long time it takes to reach the end of town.

The imposing facility and flickering flames within its windows beat back the darkness. Through the entrance, their feet clack on the narrow, grey corridors. Sparse chipped tiles lie around the cracked concrete beneath. Ceiling panels are knocked out above, leaving a thin grid that projects distorted shadows into the dark depths behind them.

The building has two wings. They go left and peek through the first door. There are many cushions, but only three curling Pokemon upon them. One of them stirs to the intrusion. No Daisy. The next room is similar, but with larger Pokemon who are restless. One panics and holds a hand to their chest, while the others dreadfully stare off into the distance. The third room has both small and large Pokemon.

“Hey! We’re looking for a Kanghsaskhan named Daisy!” Jace shouts. The sleeping pokemon stir with cranky faces. One bares her fangs seeing the outsiders.

Jace steps in and gestures for them to speak. “Tell me where Daisy is, or there will be trouble!”

Layla elbows him in the ribs. He steps aside, rubbing where he’s hit.

“Daisy’s in danger,” Layla says. “Merka’s coming to execute her. That’s the ‘trouble’ this idiot meant. We need to save her!”

They shake their heads. A Litleo speaks. “Well, I don’t care. We don’t know each other so best of luck to you.” She curls up to sleep again with an annoyed face.

Layla rubs her forehead. “Fine! We’ll split up. Mark, go upstairs. Jace, finish the rooms on this floor. I’ll go the other way or something. Now go!” She runs off to the opposite side of the building. Jace reaches a hand to stop her but misses. Mark scurries to the side stairs.

The steps are cold underfoot. It complements the dismal shades of grey. The steps are tall enough that he has to jump each one, each landing creates a new lingering clap. He curses how time is being wasted just finding her.

He climbs up the final step. Twigs of vines sneak over the ceiling, twisting in and out of the panel grid and obscuring the layer of pooling smoke. The cracks in the walls and floor are deep here.

He explores more rooms. A few are empty and most Pokemon he finds sleep. Of the awake ones, one is staring out the window with a claw tucked under her chin. Another is a bony Jolteon wrapped around her Eevee young. When he reaches the central stairway marking the midway point, he spots Layla’s torch coming out of the far-end stairwell.

The next room has a Brionne and a Zangoose whispering to each other. They notice Mark and give concerned looks instead of hostile glares.

“Hey, do you know where Daisy is?” Mark asks. “The Kangaskhan? It’s an emergency!”

They both look at each other and back. The Brionne shrugs.

Mark walks in. “What about Cascade?”

“Cascade? In the shelter at the entrance of town,” the Zangoose says. “They’re leaving with the refugees tomorrow. Why? Is ‘Daisy’ a terrorist?”

“Thank you!” Mark rushes towards Layla. “I know where Cascade is!”

“Where!?”

Mark repeats the info.

“Okay. Jace is downstairs!” she says.

He’s grabbed and rushed down the central staircase. The Zangoose follows them. On the bottom floor, Jace’s blaze stands out. It illuminates a Skorupi peeking their head out.

“Jace! The other side of town!” Layla says. “There’s a large shelter with a Froslass named Cascade. They’ll know where she is!”

“That far?! We’re running out of time!” he shouts back. The commotion brings more Pokemon to their entrances, expressions ranging from annoyed to afraid.

“Hey! Is everything okay?” the Zangoose behind them says.

“No, they aren’t!” Layla says. She rushes out and down the stairs. Jace runs afterward.

They run across town with the Zangoose and a Skorupi following. The agonizing sprint feels even longer going back but they reach the cavern’s mouth entrance eventually. A larger tent is erected near its edge. Growth whirls around its peak. They burst through the entrance flap.

A faltering lantern hanging from a wire reveals how packed the inside is. Stack bags push against the walls and between them, Fifteen sleeping Pokemon lie crammed together on the floor. It’s too dark to recognize them.

Jace’s quills blare to life. The waking pokemon hold their arms in front of them to block the light. “Cascade?!? You there?!?”

“Cascade! We need you now! There’s trouble! Daisy kidnapped Merka’s son!” Layla follows up.

The groggy crowd murmurs in confusion. One of them shouts “get out of here!” However, Cascade rises in the back. Their eyes are heavy. “What’s wrong?”

“Again, Daisy kidnapped Merka’s son, and now he’s coming to kill her!” Layla says. The murmuring stops. “We’re here to warn her! They’ll be here any moment!”

“And we’re here to get Darold back, too,” Jace adds.

“Okay. Outside, now.” Cascade says. They float through the tent. The group heads back out. The Zangooze and Skorupi are joined by a Delibird to stare at them. Mark glimpses movement in the darkness behind them. Cascade waves them into a smaller tent close by.

A curtain bisects the inside. A Simipour sleeps with a young Panpour in her arms on one side. On the other side, Daisy sits on the floor, anxiously staring at the ground. Millie sleeps in her pouch and a restless Gible prods a pebble on the floor. The air is muggy. When Darold sees the intruders, he yelps and runs behind Daisy. She turns her head to the group, expression unchanged. “What’s wrong?”

“Daisy, you need to give Darold to us. He isn’t your son.” Cascade says. “Then you’ll have to flee to the city with Millie. Merka’s coming here for you. We’ll meet up with you later once the expedition arrives. We’ll talk about this crime later.”

She’s shocked. She grabs Darold’s wrist. The child pulls but the hold is tight. “I’m not giving him back.”

Cascade furrows their brow. Jace steps forward, pushing them aside. “I work with Merka. If you return Darold now, I will not impede your escape. But if you won’t, I’ll kill you right here.”

Daisy tenses her whole body, which makes Darold whine. Her voice shakes. “Then he dies too.” The Panpour on the other side of the partition is awake now, whimpering. His mother cradles his head.

Jace snarls and flares, drenching everything in a sea of orange. “That is not your son! Give him back!”

Daisy gets up. “You know what Merka has done to me!?!” Darold struggles harder.

The Panpour cries loudly. His mother turns him away from the clamour. She looks just as afraid.

Layla steps in front of Jace. Her tone is more empathetic. “Please, Daisy. What will happen to your daughter if she loses her mother again? We wasted a lot of time finding you! They may even be here now! You have to-”

“You sold us out, criminals!” Daisy shrills.

Millie, now awake, buries into Daisy’s pouch. The other mother tears up and shuffles backward.

“We’re here to save you!” Layla shouts back. “There’s nothing else we can do! Please, return Darold now and run!”

Cascade’s voice is stern. “Daisy, give him back now.”

“And stop hurting him!” Jace adds.

“No! I will have justice for my town!” Daisy shouts. Tears well in Darold’s eyes as he tugs with his other hand.

Mark looks outside, worried about the guild arriving. The crowd has grown, keeping careful distance and watching with apprehension and morbid curiosity. They block his view.

Daisy speaks lividly. “He has come into my town, killed every city guild member, and run the families who depend on you out of town! He won’t see his son until I get my home back!” She points to Cascade. “Don’t you care about your fallen teammates, Cascade? Don’t you want Merka to suffer?”

“Mom, please stop!” Millie begs.

The monkey family scurries out of the tent. Layla walks up to her and pushes the dull edge of her claw against her sternum. “He’s gonna kill you!”

Daisy laughs and smacks her claw. “Get out of my way!”

Jace approaches her. Cascade floats between him and Daisy but he lunges through their ghostly body. She tumbles into the wall and the tent collapses. The crowd gasps and inches forward. Layla crawls out from underneath while the cloth rocks and rumbles as Jace and Daisy fight. Cascade unhelpfully tries to grab them and begs them to stop. Darold and Millie can be heard screaming. Layla crawls backward in fear.

Mark looks back one more time. There’s a parting in the crowd wide enough that he can look to the main tunnel. Deep within, a mass of flames approaches.

(Image by Bog Rabbit)​

“They’re coming up now!” Mark shouts.

The crowd looks to where Mark looks. Murmurs spread. More Pokemon peek out of the tents. Some villagers flee, while others step forward to the entrance with an aggressive stance.

Daisy scurries out of the wreckage before Jace crawls out with a limp. She runs into the tunnel’s darkness without a torch, the heavy crunching of fallen leaves following her.

“Daisy! No! Come back!” Cascade shouts.

“Merka!” Jace hollers. “That’s her! She has Darold!”

A charge beam shoots from the gang of four-legged mon. The flash blinds and its thunder shakes the ground. Daisy shrieks and crumbles onto the ground. A Garchomp twice the height of everyone leads a charge toward the helpless mother and onlookers rush to intercept them.

Pandemonium. A horrific mash of shouting and screaming rings from all directions. Most pull guild members off of Daisy. A few brawl. Flames shoot into the air, lightning cackles and flash, and many colourful Pokemon moves fly around. Alarmed words of “Mystery Dungeon” grow prominent.

“Stop! Everyone, stop! We have him,” Merka shouts. The shuffling dwindles. Cascade hovers near the chaos and waves their arms. “Break it up!”

The mobs divide. They throw insults and taunts at each other. Daisy’s dug out and propped up. She’s bruised all over with a swollen, black eye, and bleeding lightly from scratches. Her head drifts in a dizzy manner.

Millie isn’t in her pouch.

Cascade and Merka motion to quiet their respective crowds down. Once silent, Cascade faces Merka. “I represent the refugees of this town and currently serve as the liaison for the settlement.”

The calm allows Mark to examine Merka’s guild. A Salazzle and Mareep are familiar among them. Jace is there too, holding onto Darold as he cries into his body. All other Pokemon are four-legged. Many wore piercings in many different spots.

Merka’s voice is growly. “We are not here to disturb your peace. I am only here to take custody of Daisy, who has kidnapped my son. Please, turn her over.” He pulls in a lot of presence being more than twice the height of every other Pokemon. The area beneath his dead eyes is dark and sunken. Dull piercings line the back edges of his fins along his tail end. He holds Millie across his chest, who struggles and cries.

“The City Guild has not been made aware of Daisy’s actions until just recently,” Cascade says. “We do not condone them. However, she is under the purview of the City Guild, who will decide punitive action. Your son has been returned; we have no further obligations to uphold.”

A disgusting, lecherous threat is shouted at the mother. The town shouts expletives back. Daisy’s head glazes around, disoriented. “Where’s my baby…” she mutters.

Merka points to Cascade. “The crime has been committed in our land. We have the right to enforce our laws. So don’t you dare harbour a criminal! We’re in charge of our lands!” His guild hollers affirmations behind him.

“My baby? Where’s my baby? Millie?” Daisy’s senses come back enough to see Millie. She shakes against her hold but the cautious mon around her keeps her steady. “My baby! Give me my baby back!” she shouts.

“Merka,” Cascade says. “Millie has done no wrong in any of this.”

“Millie doesn’t deserve a degenerate! Daisy has no right to raise any child!” Merka shouts. His guild cheers and the town jeers back. Merka takes a step forward. “And she has taken my son! My greatest love! She has forsaken her life! Give her to us now!”

Layla grabs Mark’s hand. Her grip trembles. Mark squeezes tight.

Both groups argue with each other: “Millie is Lucia’s family,” “Millie deserves a real mother,” “It’s a shame Daisy gave birth at all,” “Darold should die along with Merka.” The rage swells and they inch toward each other.

Cascade flies to the center and holds both arms out. Their voice struggles to make it over the cacophony. ”There is no need to fight! Back down!”

Both sides decide otherwise. Guild members vividly describe the pain they’ll inflict Daisy. The town decries the depravity of Merka and the guild. Claws protrude, flames blare, and sparks emit.

Layla lets go of Mark and runs into the dark town crying. He reaches out to her. He wants to chase her. He feels the urge to help her. But he must stay calm.

“My baby! Please don’t leave me, my baby!” Daisy shouts.

“Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!” The guild chants.

Cascade glares. “Lucia won’t forgive this!”

Pebbles lob across the divide. The space around Cascade shrinks. Mark can smell the blood already.

Bloodshed…

“A Mystery Dungeon!” Mark yells at the top of his lungs. “Won’t one form!?!” He repeats the message many times, each barely drowned by the clamour. It falls on their ears - soon they echo the warning until everyone’s alarmed.

Merka holds an arm out to get them to stop. “Stop! Back away! We’ll make a Mystery Dungeon!” He shuffles backward, guiding his guild away. He glances at Mark briefly as he does.

Cascade turns to the town. “Please calm down everyone! Violence won’t help!”

They shift back to the distance they were before and both leaders wait for everyone to shut up. Only Daisy’s begging remains.

Cascade faces Merka. They straight into his eyes. “Merka, we can just walk away from this. Keep Millie and Darold and we’ll keep Daisy. She will still face consequences from our guild.”

“No!” Daisy yells. “Don’t take away my baby!”

Cascade snaps their body to her. “Daisy! You have betrayed the trust of the guild! You have betrayed me! We supported you and took care of you and in turn you’ve endangered our entire town over your twisted sense of revenge! But I am here to protect this town and I will do just that!”

“No!” Daisy yells. She throws the full weight of her body into her struggle but more town members join in restraining her. They look at her with new, suspicious gazes. Tears pour down her cheeks. “Please give my baby back! I can’t lose her again! Millie, I love you!”

“Mom!” Millie responds, reaching out with her missing hand. “Please don’t go!” She kicks Merka to no avail.

Merka grimaces. “We’ll accept.”

Daisy screams.

The Salazzle turns to him. “What? Merka?”

Others murmur. Merka speaks up strongly. “I’m not putting any of you into a Mystery Dungeon over this. No, we will have our chance eventually. We’ll wait for then.” He glares into the sobbing, pleading Daisy. They walk out of earshot.

Mark is alone. He takes a deep breath and brushes under his crystal eye - he’s shed tears. He scoffs and turns around with Millie.

Daisy shrieks, knowing she just saw her daughter for the last time. “No, Millie! I will always love you! Every single day until I die! Don’t forget me!”

“I love you mom! I’m sorry for everything I’ve done! I don’t want to go! I’m scared!”

Merka’s arm shifts to hold the wiggling child closer. “Someone, give her a sleep spore.”

Daisy’s eyes are red, cheeks drenched with cheers. She hyperventilates and mutters “My baby, my baby, my baby…” until she runs out of breath. Some villages leave her behind with bitter faces while others stay and stop her from falling over. They pat and console her.

Cascade hovers away. “Back in your tent when you’re ready, or we’ll leave without you.”

The guild, along with Jace, walks into the tunnel. Merka speaks to Darold. “Everything is alright now, dear. You’re with me now. It’s safe. No one will hurt you. No, no, you’re not in trouble, I promise you. Now let’s go get you to your mother, okay? She misses you.” They disappear into the darkness.

The quiet is striking now. There’s only the panting of Daisy and the sympathetic Pokemon’s calming words. There’s a minuscule snap above and a short, withering vine falls beside him. He can’t tell if it's grey or purple with it so close to his torch. He picks it up.

He still needs to find Layla.

He sets it by a tent away from where feet may trample it. He journeys to the human ruins by walking along where the cavern walls meet the ground. Densely twisted mushroom trees swell here, each a faded beige. The ghostly vegetation hangs off their caps like waterfalls. He hears a girl sobbing behind a cluster after a while. He crawls between the stems. “Layla?”

Layla’s curled up between two roots, limbs quivering and panting. Her head’s buried into her knees. “I need to get out of here.” She whispers.

He approaches.

“I need to get out of here!” she shouts. Her limbs constrict tighter as her crying deepens. Mark rushes forward and wraps his arms around her. She struggles to speak between uneven gasps. “I escape, no matter what I do! The fighting, the stealing, the killing, it never stops! I hate it! I hate all of it! I hate Merka! I hate Lucia! I- I hate myself!”

She wails. Mark rubs her back. “I just want to get away and I try and try so hard but it always hurts me in the end. It hurts so much! I can’t take it anymore! I need to go! But-But-” She chokes and barely gets her final words out. “I’m going to die here!”

She loses it. Her body shrinks as tightly as she can and tears flow freely. Her bawling is loud and her gasps desperate. He begins rocking her body. He blinks to stop his own tears, but they fall anyway. “Hey, Layla…” She sniffs and turns herself away from him. He moves in front of her and jostles her shoulders so she’d see him. Her face is drenched and full of red.

“Layla, The surface!” he says. “We can find the surface. The beauty there is unending. The sky is a rich blue and fields of grass stretch forever and as you walk along it, the cool breeze wraps around you like a gentle blanket. And there will be nobody to hurt us there. We can do this. I promise we will!”

She sniffs again. A hand worms its way to rub her running nose. Her voice is faint. “I don’t deserve that.”

(Italics on final “this”)
His hands reach for her shoulders. “You saved me, Layla. You don’t like this fighting. I know you’re different from the others here. I know you don’t deserve this.”

Her crying resumes, but now she wraps her arms around him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Mark returns the hug. “It’s okay. You did nothing wr-”

“We’ll find the surface together, Mark. No one will stop me. We’ll bring Millie. And Myla. And Andy. And more. And then we can all be happy together.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

He rocks her gently as she dries out her tears. She sniffs a few times, and her claw rubs his back. “There’s food up there, yeah?

“Yeah. And they all taste better than the mushrooms.”

“What are they like?”

Mark spends a long time talking about food. He talks about rich, sweet fruits that grow on trees, and of the vegetables plucked from the ground. Of millions of grain stalks swaying in the wind, which humans pluck to make bread and pasta with. He talks about nuts, seeds, and herbs too. Tea and juice. Fried food. Baked food. Boiled food. Salads. Sauces. Seasoning. Spices.

“And we can share it all…” she says.

“Yeah. There’s more than enough.”

His stomach growls. It's not an easy topic after all the running.

“Hey,” Layla says, leaning back to softly smile at him. “Let’s get you home. Get you a mushroom. We’ll have to stick with those for a little longer.”

He grows a faint smile. “Sure.”

Layla stands up and leads once more, clenching his hand like she might drop it. Still emotionally drained, her stride is slow, but it's a pleasant walk anyways. She babbles about when she was younger, when she had friends and parents. Her mother taught her to be smart and resourceful, but it was her father who told her to love others, and that she is the best. The speech is directionless but he listens to every word. He forgets about the swirling patterns around him.

They turn around one more corner. A blaze lights up.

Jace steps forward, holding a sleeping Millie in his arms.

“Hey. ‘If Millie is still with Daisy by the end of the day, then I may join,’ right? That’s the promise? I’m here to give her back.”

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 10
Trusting a Miscreant​

The gang trudges down the winding, black-and-white tunnel lit by the light of the fire-types' flames. Most walk silently, robbed of the ecstasy of domination. The chatter of the remaining guild members is loud and blissful as a rescued family is still a joyous victory. Tales of dungeon expeditions, gossip of neighbours, and speculation of future fights bounce off the walls. Merka leads the crowd, holding a dozed-off Darold close to his chest.

Jace walks next to him. His heart pounds and his mind blazes through the different options he has and the hundreds of theoretical outcomes down the line. He veers off away from Merka often, being lost so deep in thought.

Merka looks at him. "Hey. There's something on your mind. Still worried about the initiative you took? Again, you're not in trouble." His face is dull and hanging. Jace can't ever tell what emotion he has beneath it. His mind always assumes disappointment.

Jace rubs his arm. "It's not that. I'm not sure how to say it."

"What does your heart say?"

An itch runs up his arm now. He scratches it but it won't go away.

"I want to raise Millie!" Jace blurts.

The larger Pokemon subtly raises an eyebrow. Jace responds louder and faster than needed. "My boyfriend and I always wanted to raise a child! Now that we're both Quilavas, we can handle more than enough missions to raise one! I want to adopt her right now and surprise him!"

Merka takes a moment to think. His unchanging look only makes Jace assume the worst, that never comes. "I believe you two can be fine parents, but this shouldn't be rushed. Make the decision with your partner. At the least, I don't want you missing the celebration because you were bringing her home."

Jace nods his head. His mouth is so dry. He debates accepting before making up his mind. "We've waited so long to raise a child! This is our chance! Let Millie wake up to a proper, loving family. Merka, I know this is an unusual request, and I'm aware my boyfriend doesn't have input, but I'm sure he'd want this. Do it for me and Drake! And for her! Please!"

The dragon grumbles, shaking his head. "No."

Jace puts his hands together. "We'll do our best to raise her day! Teach her everything you teach us I promise! There won't be a chance to surprise him like this again!"

"You can't start raising a child-"

"We've been ready for the last quarter-generation!"

The dragon sighs. "You sure you can even carry her all the way back, safely?"

"Yes!"

"And you sure this isn't something that can't wait?"

"Absolutely!"

Merka grunts. He tilts his head to think about everything. "Okay, Jace. I'm not sure what the rush is all about, but I'll trust you. You've been very dependable. But please don't mess it up: raise her as well as you say you will."

Adrenaline floods Jace and a grin breaks through. "Yes, yes! I'll raise her the best I can! I'll run ahead right now!" He scurries around to the other side of him and swoops Millie off before the Mareep sees him. He's off into the tunnel, only faintly making out the Mareep's confused shouting. Merka's lost, trying to follow what just happened.

He swings around many corners and runs far away from the deception he committed. He prays for a side path and eventually a large dug-out hole appears in the tunnel wall. He runs in and quells his quills, covering him and the child in darkness.

Nothing to do now except sit and wait. His heart pounds his chest until the clamour of the crowd reaches his ears. Warm lights filter into the distance entrance. Warped figures shift across the hole. It dies down into darkness once more, and then silence follows.

He lets out a held breath and collapses onto his back. His arms shake and his head screams about all the different ways it will go wrong.

Millie, who he put sitting up on his leg, falls back onto him. The quills blaze once more and Jace sits back up, propping the child up and looking at her. It was the best lie he could think of, but there's truth that he and his boyfriend want a child and have been preparing for one. This wouldn't have been the best way to introduce a child in the family, but he starts imagining the alternatives. The work camps, rows of people labouring away, or so he was told. For sure, her mother would be placed there, after all the trouble she's given the guild, as well as her poverty. She'd see a life of starving every day, barely getting by. He's risking so much to give her a worse life.

He hugs her close. "I'm so sorry," he mutters. "I'll do everything to find the surface, no matter how difficult it will be." That was his promise to his love.

---

Vines arc in and out of the ceiling sporadically. Most of these faux roots are bare, their leaves now lying on the floor grey and shriveled like a colour-bleached wasteland. Jace stands across from Mark and Layla, holding Millie. Layla's grasp on Mark's hand leaves indents on his skin. It hurts.

"Hey, 'if Millie is still with Daisy by the end of the day, then I may join,' right? That's the promise? I'm here to give her back," Jace says. His face is tough.

Layla's voice is drained and her glare loose. "Yeah…"

Jace glances between the two. "Well. Here she is."

She shakes her head and shifts her body away from him. "Mark. Just, just take over. I can't do this anymore."

He slips his hand out to pat her shoulder. "Okay" He looks at the stranger. "So, how did you get Millie back? Is Merka going be coming after us?"

"No. He believes Millie is gonna be with my boyfriend near the Magma Cavern entrances. So we have time. We're safe."

"Time?" Layla mutters. She looks back at him. "Until Merka comes to kill all three of us?"

Jace hurriedly shakes his head "No! I was the one who lied, Once he finds out, he'll only blame me! I-I know how he works, so I can, uh, make it work. Convince us to get a second chance, especially since you were deceived too. Yeah? P-plus, if we find the surface, it won't matter! Not that it matters, you made a promise! This is what you agreed to!"

"You know I can just beat the shit out of you and take her back!" she shouts.

"I swear! Once Merka finds out-"

She runs to him. Jace turns and braces. "You can trust me-"

Layla tackles him to the ground and furiously swipes his face, tears in her eyes. Jace huddles Millie close to him as he screams.

Mark tackles Layla. They roll a few times until he pins Layla down by her shoulders. She swipes her claws at him but they phase through his head like it doesn't exist. She realizes what she's doing and freezes her claw right above his cheek.

"Layla! What are you doing?!"

"It's all his fault!" She cranes her head at Jace and points at him. Blood runs down his neck and cheeks as he fumbles around his bag. "But here he is with Millie! Let's take her back ourselves without Merka on our backs! He's just going to scapegoat us anyways!" She rolls her shoulders to face him more, but Mark keeps her pinned. "I know what you're like! I'm going to end your pathetic-"

"Layla!" Tears collect under Mark's eyes. "You promised we won't kill anyone!"

Layla grits her teeth and glares deep into Mark's eyes. She puts her claws on his shoulders. Mark anticipates more unhinged anger but instead, her fury melts away and she pushes him off. "I did. Just… Just go. Do your thing. I'm sorry"

Mark backs away, taking a heavy sigh as he buries his forehead in his hands. Her partner stays lying on her back, staring at the ceiling with a cold grimace. The Quilava fumbles with an Oran Mushroom - blood's rolling down his front and sides and has gotten into his eyes. Millie rests on the floor beside him.

"I-I-I promise! Me and my boyfriend always wanted to go to the surface! I won't scapegoat you or anything! I'm not your enemy!" He tears off the mushroom and chokes, swallowing it too fast.

Mark takes a few more deep breaths and sits down. "We are going to do nothing and cool down for five minutes."

Jace gulps another bite down. "Minutes?"

"Yeah. I'm going to count to 300. Okay?"

Jace nods. Mark begins to mouth each number. In this time, Jace brushes the blood off himself. It spreads around his coat, giving his fur the illusion of rust. Once he's clean, he picks up Millie and lets her rest against his side. Layla doesn't move at all.

298… 299… 300, Mark mutters. "Okay. Let's roll things back. Jace, do you really want to join us?"

"Yes! Me and my boyfriend promised each other we'll find it one day. The blue ceiling, the burning torch in the sky, the endless fields of food. We joined the Pokemon's Guild to-"

"Hold on, Jace. I do believe you want to see the surface, but why do you want to work with us in particular?"

Jace rubs his neck. "Well. I don't believe I'm going to find it on my own, and nobody else believes it can be found, so I think we should work together. Plus, you have the key! You do, right?"

"Yeah, we do."

"Mark!" Layla shouts. "Don't give him info! His idiocy's already getting us killed!"

Mark reaches an arm out her way to assuage her. "Layla, let me handle it!" She gnashes her teeth but doesn't do anything more.

He sucks air between his teeth. This is difficult enough. "Yes, we have the key. How do you know?"

"Well, there's no way some City leech had the money to support such a reward, who knows how much poke she burned just trying to kidnap Darold. Why would someone take such a crappy mission in a faraway dungeon? Unless they were really there to check out the door, because they found a key."

Mark nods. "Okay. And why do you think you know where it goes?"

"We follow Lucia's movements closely. Some of her guild's recent actions have involved the key, and we believe we know what she knows about it. What it should unlock, should help us find the surface."

"Okay. Now, you lied to Merka to get Millie to us. What exactly did you tell Merka?"

"That I and my boyfriend will raise Millie. In fact, he shouldn't find out, it's not like he'll barge into our home. But, if he does find out, I can convince him not to punish us. Or not too much, at least. I'm sure!"

"How?"

"Well, you see, we're a big guild, yeah? So, he'll listen to me, uh, he'll give me a shot, y'know? So we just gotta tell him, that, that, well, we're still here for me. That yeah, I did do something a bit selfish. But that he still trusts us, and deserves forgiveness, and a second chance you know? P-plus, you guys aren't to blame, it's my idea! But he'll probably not do anything to you because of me. Y'know?"

"Jace, I don't believe it'll work out that way." It's uneasy saying these words. "He was very vindictive about punishing Daisy."

"No! He's," Jace shuffles. "My friend. He must believe me."

Mark makes a deep sigh. He looks to the child, sleeping deeply against his side. Certainly, they'll be screwed following through on this. "Layla, I think we should risk this anyways, for Millie."

"No, we can't. Merka will kill us when he finds out. That's it. There's no hope."

"So?"

"What? I'm not dying over one child!" she shouts. "I'm sorry! I really want her to have a family! But we can't throw our lives away this easily!"

"May I ask something?" Jace says. "Why do you care so much about reuniting her with Daisy? She's a kidnapper! Lucia's guild will send her straight to the farms or work camp. They'll starve for the rest of their lives while working every day! I don't think that's what's best for her."

She shrugs. "I can't stand the thought of Millie being alone."

"She doesn't have to be!" Jace says. He puts a paw over his heart. "Me and my boyfriend are willing to look after her! We'll make sure she's safe, fed, do our best to give her a real home. Well, mostly my boyfriend cause I'll be out and about, but I'll pitch in whenever I'm around."

Nobody speaks for an uncomfortably long moment. Jace's ears flatten and he looks between them. "S-so what now? I'm not joining you? I just go home now with Millie? What about the key?"

Layla rolls onto her other side, facing the fire-type. "Well, we can't return her no matter what any of us wants now. You messed that up, thank you. But if you care about the surface so much, just give us the info regardless!"

Jace's shoulders droop. "I want to help you find the surface. Let me help you! I mean that!"

But the Sneasel's quiet. Mark stares with a somber expression.

The fire-type sighs. "Alright. I'll tell you what I know." He moves Millie onto his leg and looks at her. A small smile grows on his face, deep down a little happy with the outcome. "And I'll bring her to my home to be taken care of."

Layla props herself up. "Well, spit it out!"

"Okay, okay! Lucia's been interested in learning about the surface about two or three eggbirths ago, although we don't know why. And she somehow came across a human key. This is what she does believe: that it leads to a human. We've also figured she believes the key belongs to a door somewhere in the Lower Tunnels, as she's been sending a Gallade and Machamp to scout those areas.

"Here's the thing: we've sent a Magmar and Reuniculus to intercept them, and neither they nor the Gallade and the Machamp have been spotted since. They probably knocked themselves out while in uncharted tunnels.

"But, you found them, right? You must have looted it off a Gallade or Machamp! Well, the door's still out in the lower tunnels, probably untouched!"

Layla bobs her head as she listens to this. Her expression is deep in revelation. Mark figures it out too.

The key led to him.

"So there," Jace says, dejected. "You absolutely sure there's nothing I can do to join? We can do so much together."

Layla closes her eyes and takes her time thinking. Her face is grim.

"Hey, Layla." Mark kneels by her. "Remember when the Flygon said you couldn't be trusted?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, I could have left you. I didn't need to fight for you. It would have made my life easier. But I did anyways, because I know I can trust someone who put themselves in danger for someone else. He's doing the same with Millie. Do you think you're willing to trust him like I did for you?"

"I was going to kill him." Two claws clumsily grab his arm. Blood rolls down their edge. "Don't you regret trusting me?"

Mark looks at her claws, then two her face. He rubs the back of her hand. "No. Not ever since we formed the team."

She closes her eyes and nods. Her voice is soft. "Okay, Jace. I'll give you a shot, but you must do this instead: reunite Millie with her mother once we find the surface."

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 11
Memories Lost to the Void
​

They walk for a long while since Jace agreed to the new condition to raise Millie until she can be reunited with Daisy on the surface. It's been silent since Layla needed time to flush out complicated emotions. She squeezes Mark’s hand tightly throughout. He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze back, feeling how shaken she is underneath.

Once they’re past the monochrome mineral veins and return to drab brown corridors, her claw shifts to his forearm. A smile worms its back onto her face. A little later, she leans forward to look past Mark’s side - Mark’s between him and Layla, likely on purpose.

“Alright, Jace! You ready to hear the rules?” she asks.

Jace nestles the still-sleeping Millie between both arms. She’s been turning more, the sleep spore losing its effect. He scoots forward so he can look back at Layla. “Yes!”

“Great! First: we don’t do any killing unless absolutely necessary. Emphasis on the ‘absolute’. If you think they’ll kill you later, just put up with it.”

“What?” he says. Concern spreads across his face.

Her elbow bumps Mark’s side. “I know! But this guy wouldn’t join otherwise, and he’s important. But I don’t know Jace, having morals sounds kinda fun, don’t you think? If not badass? You know what I mean?”

“What about Lucia’s people?”

“Uh…” her eyes shift to Mark’s.

His brow furrows. “No.”

“‘No,’” she says, imitating Mark’s annoyed expression. “Well there you go. Sorry, love!”

Jace’s face grows worried. In a quiet voice directed at Mark, he asks “Are you sure? You do know what they do, right Mark?”

“Ugh,” Mark mutters.

“I do!” Layla says. “I want them to die too but this guy doesn’t allow it, okay? On the flip side, we haven’t killed any of your guys since he joined, okay? Pretty fair!”

He growls but his eyes shift as he considers. “If you’ve been sparing our guys then fine. Although please don’t suggest we’re equal to Lucia’s guild again, okay?”

Layla carelessly nods. “Mm-hmm!”

There’s a bit of awkward silence but eventually Jace’s scowl disappears. “What about dungeon Pokemon, though?”

Layla glances at her partner again. He places a hand on his chin. He still remembers the Noivern’s throat wiggle as he pressed the broken shaft against it. “Let’s... try not to.”

She looks to the new member once more. “‘Let’s try not to!’ works for you?”

Jace shrugs. “Eh.”

“Okay! That’s settled. So then, this is how operations will go!” Layla continues. She straightens her back just a bit but still tries to past Mark. “If all three of us focus on the same mission all the time, we won’t earn enough to keep up with costs, so I’ll have you do missions while I and Mark do our’s together, and once he’s good enough, all three of us will earn independently. Once we stockpiled enough, we’ll explore any place that interests us, or any leads we have. That good?”

Jace nods. “Mmm-hmm!”

“And of course, for the short term, we’ll search around where we got the key while you deliver, uh, ‘home.’ If we find something, we’ll tell you.”

“Yup.”

“How long will that take?” she asks.

“Hmm…” he thinks about this. “It’ll take us about two days to get home, but I’ll probably need some time to help her adjust to her new home. So, hm…”

“Just find us in Myla’s Cafe when you’re ready, okay?” She lurches forward. Mark leans back clumsily to let her see past him. His partner smirks wide. “One last requirement. You gotta introduce me to the Salazzle someday!”

Both men turn their heads to her.

“What?” she says, looking between the two. She’s cute! Or are they a guy, I thought their pheromones were working on me?!?”

“Transwoman. So yeah their phermones would be working on you.”

“Aah,” Layla says.

And I guess that’s why I didn’t notice the pheromones. Mark thinks.

“What’s her name?” she continues.

“She’s Raquel. And she’s already dating a Lopunny who can get kinda jealous. At least to strangers…”

Layls’s grin grows wider and her eyes widen with a hopeful gleam. “No way! Introduce me to them both?”

The newcomer laughs. “Your rules. Don’t get too hopeful about anything, though.”

Wait, does this mean male Salazzle exist? Mark realizes. He blinks and looks to the two. What are they talking about?

She giggles. The rest of the walk is in much higher spirits, a relief from the roller coaster today has been. Layla ends up asking more about Jace’s boyfriend. Another Quilava, in fact. She asks about how long they’ve been together, how and they get along - she seems curious about the other one who’ll take care of Millie. The questions end up getting more invasive though, if not risque. Jace either doesn’t notice or is actually boldly enjoying answering her. The conversation keeps devolving and Mark ends up blushing lots and hanging his head as the two enthusiastically talk and laugh about their favourite activities.

“Hey, this too much for you?” Layla asks, just noticing her partner. “We can stop if that’ll make you feel better. Or, if you’re nervous about joining in, just start with saying what’s your favourite-”

Jace stops walking, falling behind the pack. “Eh, this is where we part ways, so fun time’s over anyways.”

A smaller exit is to the side, barely taller than Jace.

Layla salutes him off. “Alright, Jace. Hopefully this team thing can work out. Whenever you come back, just wait around Myla’s Cafe in the mornings and try to catch us. It’s in the middle of Scrap Town.”

“Y-yeah. Looking forward to meeting you” Mark says.

He waves and scoots into the tunnel. “Will do!”

“And make sure to treat Millie well!” Layla shouts.

“Yup!”

The glow of his fire diminishes as he disappears. Layla’s lazily waves to him, sighs, and leans against Mark’s shoulder.

Mark shifts his shoulder, giving her more room. “What’s wrong?”

“I’d still rather she’s back with Daisy. I’m still not sure if this is really the right choice.”

She starts moving again. The merry demeanor she built up is gone, heads and shoulders now hanging.

Mark takes time to carefully select his words. “It's not wrong we’re choosing our own safety in the end of the day. But more importantly, we can’t forget we’re not abandoning them. This will all be resolved once we find the surface, where they can hide from Merka. We just got to keep our focus on that.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “Yeah. I’m just worried about how long that’ll take.”

“And I’m sure she’ll find happiness with Jace and Drake. She won’t be alone.”

“Yeah...” She takes a deep breath and puts her chin up. She deliberately swings her and his arm in a wide arc as she walks. More time later, she turns her head back and asks another question. “Hey Mark, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Mmm?”

“How do you do it?”

His brow rises. “Do what?”

“Everything!” She tilts her head down, thinking of examples. “When that Flygon and other Pokemon were on my ass, you didn’t have to fight for me! You didn’t have to, I don’t think I would have. A-and you took on that Monkey mission! What was that? Andy told me about that. Like thank goodness he’s a good judge of character but you really weren’t worried about how suspicious he was? And the whole Millie’s hand thing! How!?! How Mark, she lost your hand! A whole fountain of blood and you just fixed it? You were even relaxed when I found you! And then. And then. Today! How were you able to just watch Merka take Millie today? How do you do it? I need to know!” Her breath is light after the rambling.

“What?” Mark tilts his head. “Is it not that normal?”

She lets go of him and holds her head in both arms. “What do you mean, ‘not normal!’ Do you not fear death or something?!?”

He frowns. “N-not really?”

“Aaagh!” Her head cranes downwards and her claws interlock over it.

She stays this way for a while. Mark ends up looking at his torch-carrying hand. He tenses it and watches the muscles flex beneath his skin. It eases him, if only a little.

After she calms down, she says “Mark?”

His eyes stay focused on his backhand as he digs through his memories. There’s none. There’s his name, he was a young adult, a tall human, male, supposedly decent at school. What about his occupation? Shouldn’t he know that too?

“Mark?” she asks once more, more concerned. “I’m sorry about the outburst. I’m envious, especially after everything today. Really, that wasn’t fair.”

He strains his hand. “I don’t know who I am. Or why I am this way. What my past was. What I did. Why I do the things I do. Nothing. And I don’t know what is right or wrong or weird or expected l because I have nothing to compare. I thought I was trying to be a good person by not trying to hurt others but maybe I’m just weak. I-”

“No!” Layla says.

“I have no way of knowing. And maybe the surface isn’t that different from here. I forgot what it's like living there.” His knuckles turn pale.

Layla puts her claw on his shoulder and nudges it. “I don’t think anybody here actually wants to kill! I do it cause I don’t want to die. I wish I was more like you.”

Mark draws out a long breath. His hand eases. “Thanks. I don’t really know how I’m not so afraid. But I guess when things get stressful, I keep my breathing steady, and acknowledge that panicking will make things worse.”

Her claws keep rubbing his shoulder. She’s listening intently, eyes locked on him.

He looks back. “That being said, there is one feeling I can’t shake.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’ve witnessed worse, and that’s what makes it easier to stay relaxed. Like, everything so far isn’t to be afraid, compared to what is actually out there. Like, it’s a relief. Healing Millie’s hand was rote. Normal. A pushover.”

“Mark…”

“But I do worry what could be much worse than everything I’ve seen so far.”

She’s silent, rubbing his shoulder gently. Mark stretches his fingers in and out. There is something soothing about his hand, the more he looks at it. He stays focused on it until the cave mouth widens up. The faux stars of Scrap Town peak between the circular caps of treeshrooms like a million candles inside a chasm. He looks up to these instead of his hand. They already make him feel like he’s at home.

“Well hey,” Layla says once more, looking at the stars with him. “Hopefully something where you woke up can help with your memories.”

“Yeah. And hopefully it’ll help us find the surface.”

She tugs his arm and gives up a warm smile. “Let’s get some rest, okay?”

---

All of Layla’s emotional exhaustion has turned into physical exhaustion and she sleeps before he even says good night. Mark can’t drift away, however. Anxiety bubbles up in his stomach. What is right, and what could be more terrifying than the Noivern. His imagination is beat on this, even after what must be hours.

Sleep silently has its way eventually. A purple-and-blue void shifts around and never makes form. Two voices speak in the distance. His own, and one that feels like a friend.

“The sky is gray and the rain is heavy. Do you stick to the plans you already have, or call them off? Do you avoid going outside if at all?”

“I’d just grab an umbrella. You can’t help the rain,” his own voice responds. “If I had no umbrella, I still wouldn’t be bothered walking in the rain.

There’s the sound of a pen scratching against paper. Mark continues. “In fact, I find I enjoy sitting on the balcony a bit when it rains. I enjoy it, in a sentimental way”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It's a weird feeling. It was raining when we buried my father. I can’t help but to think of him when it rains. Not of just the burial itself, but also the times he was still around.”

“Oh Mark…”

“It's not a bad thing! Life’s complicated. We feel sad from time to time but I don’t think it's bad that we feel sad once in a while. I think it's even healthy to feel sad here and there. Feeling is what makes us human, and so I end up appreciating that I’m still alive, and that all the people I saved must still be grateful too, even though we’ll still die one day.”

“Wow. That’s, really deep.”

“Thanks. But don’t worry about it, professor. Plus, I also end up thinking about all the good times I had with my father anyways, so the feeling is more bittersweet. He’s who inspired me to join the military, you know?”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “How many more questions do we have?”

“We’re halfway done. Do you want to take a break?”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

The voices become hazy and echoey as the void fades away. He briefly hears the discombobulated voice of a third person.

Everything turns dark.

---

Layla pulls Mark out of bed with excited vigour and she rushes them through the morning routine. It’s all a blur to Mark as he’s detached from reality while he combs his mind for any professor he may remember. Nothing comes, so he goes through a list of every name he knows while they head to the cafe and eat breakfast. Even his partner is tuned out, despite excitedly speculating all the dark human magic waiting for them to discover. He nods along to be polite - she herself is too lost to notice Mark’s lack of presence.

He reaches all names starting with N once they’re jogging into the tunnels but he gives up. Not one of them feels reminiscent of a professor’s name and he’s getting lost forgetting names and going back too often. Plus, he’s actually awake now. Should he tell Layla about the professor? What stops him is he still doesn’t know if they’re real.

He ends up forgetting about the whole topic as they get further into the caves. He carries both torches while Layla leads with the map held in front of her. The tunnels are more varied than before: they go through a huge slanted floor with fields of stalagmites coming from the ground, tight tunnels barely wider than them but so tall their torch don’t reach the top, and tunnels with a mess of interweaving streams spewing out of the walls and ceilings.

No Pokemon are seen or heard the entire journey. Even mushrooms are found only between long stretches, and each had a stunted size and emits a nauseating ordour. No need to ask if they could eat them. The only life to find here is their footsteps echoing behind them.

Layla angles the map. “Hey, this is weird.”

“Hmm, what?”

She stops and rotates both her head and the map the other way. The corner she looks at is more intricate than a spider’s web. “This map is wrong.”

“Huh?” he says. “Are we lost?”

“No, we can backtrack. We are heading for an uncharted place and nobody has a reason to go this far deep. I think Andy just got lazy making this.” She chuckles.

They retrace their steps. Layla walks up and down a few adjacent tunnels to make sure they’re lined up with the map once again. She picks a new path that should be more complete, but they still need to walk back as they walk off the map. This happens more the farther in they get, and each mistake makes her slower with caution.

She plants her face in the map once they meet the 100th crossroads. “I can’t find an uncharted place!”

“Well, you were able to find me the first time.”

Her head jerks the other way. “By accident! I was running away, trying to get lost!” She stretches the map to flatten it so more light can reach it. She stares at it a bit more. “The fact it's up a cliff complicates everything. Heck, I don’t even know if we’re at the right level! These tunnels pass above and below each other!”

Mark leans in and pretends to know where to look. “So, what do we do?”

“Eh. We’ll just have to keep going. It took Lucia days to find you after all and so it might be that way for us as well.” She rolls the map back up and stuffs it under her arm. “Still, I’ll just use my gut. ‘Where would I go if I was running for my life’, y’know? Plus, I know for sure I went past here when I was running from them.” She grabs her own torch from Mark and leads once more, looking up just as often as she does around.

“It does make me wonder how that one Mystery Dungeon we found was formed. How did so many Pokemon find themselves so far in?” she adds. He has no answers.

The two become absorbed in exploring the lifeless caves.

---

Much more time passes. Likely half the day, Mark reasons. He would worry about being lost if it weren’t for Layla humming like she’s strolling in a garden. She only checks the map periodically, and less so the deeper in they are.

“Hey. This place looks familiar,” she says. She holds her torch up high and cranes her head upwards. “I made a lot of distance between myself and them so I was thinking, ‘hey, I’d get away if I climb up. They wouldn’t look that way.’”

Her pace is slow and she scans the ceiling. It rolls upward in a graceful curve. “I was staring up here desperately. I noticed it curled here….” She steps near the wall. A lot of small rocks jut out, forming natural footholds. “And I climbed up here.”

She finally stuffs her map into her bag and runs a claw over various ridges. “So Mark, guess you’ll have to learn how to climb right here. Think you’re ready?”

He looks up. The darkness hiding the top makes it look ginormous. “Did we not bring rope?”

“We’re not bitches! I told you this!” She says, chuckling. “Plus, there will be times you don’t have rope and need to climb anyways. So, figure it out now!” She fastens her bag tight around her. “It's not that hard, seriously. You were able to climb down and climbing up is just that in reverse. Believe in yourself!”

She crams her torch into her maw and ascends the wall. Mark does the same with his own torch and mimics Layla’s movements. It isn’t that hard - his claws dig into the surface, adding a lot more grip than he expected. He isn’t heavy either and ends up climbing with the same ease he would a ladder. The corners of his lips tug up: he is a cave monster! Could he scramble over the ceiling?

It’s a short sensation though as the first lip comes quickly. He hoists himself over, Layla lending a claw to help. An uncomfortable smell comes their way, something like rot but not that pungent. “Alright, we head over to the Gallade.”

They travel the short walk that leads to him. He still lies in a dried, red puddle. His skin is washed of colour and deflated, yet not grossly disfigured. It’s not even that ghastly. With how little life grows down here, there must not be enough bacteria to decompose corpses properly.

Layla kicks the warrior’s side. “Take this!”

“Layla!”

“He’s probably the one who wrapped you up in rope!” Kick. “Come on, join the fun!” Kick. “Lucia scum!” She giggles.

He facepalms and shakes his head. He shrugs her off by walking to the cliff the Psychic-type supposedly fell from and getting a head start.

“Hey wait!” she shouts, and she’s up beside him in no time, torch in her mouth once more. “Wah are you ooin ii-e-he-e-ee ooo-in i-ouh ee?”

“Wah?!?”

But she just laughs and rushes up to the top. “Pfft,” and another smile grows on his face, before seeing if she can beat her. He can’t catch up however and ends up dragging himself over the top alone. The massacre reveals itself.

He double-takes, shocked by how visceral their fight was. A Reuniculus and a Magmar lie in the middle while a Machamp rests against a wall. The dirt around them is vibrant red in a wide radius. Streaks stain down the sides from wide gashes and ugly scorch on their body. He angles his head away before he looks inside their injuries.

Crimson snakes up to the fighting type, who must have dragged herself there knowing she was dying. With no blood inside her but bacteria not doing their job, her skin is an eerie, pearly white. Its head is gone.

“Wait,” Layla says. She carefully approaches the corpse. “She wasn’t missing her head last time.”

He follows closely behind her. Grim as it is, it is the violence Mark has come to expect. The folded piece of paper lying on her chest wasn’t, though.

“Was there a note there either?” he asks.

“Nope.” She picks it up by the corner and gently shakes to unfold it. “Uh, Mark, can you read it?”

She faces it to him. It’s English, written in blood. Mark reads it aloud. “‘Anthropy lives. We know you’re human. Turn back and give now, Mark.’”

Dread enters him for the first time since he was bound in rope. He tenses and points his torch to the darkness around him, worried if he’s been followed. Layla gets the idea too, going on guard and taking a few steps back to the middle of the tunnel.

His shoulders drop when nobody jumps out at them. Of course not. Despite that, he can’t help to realize an assailant could be standing right there a few feet outside where his flame’s light washes into black, and he’d have no way to know.

It’s been that way the entire time.

“You haven’t told anybody you’re human, have you?” Layla asks, still alert to her surroundings.

“Only Andy. Although it was in the cafe. I think only Myla picked on us, everybody else looked very distracted. Don’t worry, Andy told me not to say anything after that slip-up.”

She sighs. “Do you remember who was in the cafe that day?” She relaxes and turns back to him. A stalker would have pounced by now.

“I think there were a couple of monkeys?” He scratches the back of his head. “No, I think that was a different day. Uh… A very sad Machoke. I also remember someone coming in to order from Myla too. Maybe one more? If I saw them again, I’d probably remember.”

She shrugs and holds the note in front of her. “Well, whoever knows also knows how to write English.” Her eyes narrow. “None of this makes sense, the more I think about it.”

“Yeah, they didn’t just give the letter to us directly.” He leans over her shoulder to read the note again. The letters didn’t look written by finger or brush. Some of the writing has dripped to the bottom edge and coloured it.

“What does Anthropy even mean?” she asks.

“It sounds like ‘anthropology’, maybe it has something to do with history, or humans?”

“Mmm.” She folds it up and slips it into her pouch. “More importantly, do they have a way to know if we continue down the tunnel?”

Neither can answer. Mark can’t imagine cameras working with every human ruin being as defunct as they are. Of course, the perpetrator could also just be there with them, outside of view.

Or is this a scare tactic? Maybe even an intended helpful warning about danger ahead?

Layla reaches for his arm. He instinctively holds it up for her. “I think we should risk it. I don’t want something dumb like this to be what stops us from finding the surface.”

“Yeah.”

She playfully tugs his arm. “One more problem though, Mark. Left or right?”

“Left!”

They go.

---

Mark’s unnerved. He’s far more aware of the darkness, which traps them in all directions. It’s easy to imagine a Pokemon jumping out with a screech. Death and danger are their own things, but the note’s prodded at a fear more primal within him. Darkness. Being watched. The unknown.

It’s not enough to stop him though. A part of him even sees this as a little thrill. Either way, he stays alert and sticks behind his more relaxed partner.

The tunnel is spacious and the ceiling has become an unnatural perfect arc. Every surface is smooth and wavy, different from the rugged rock he’s only seen so far. The brown rock fades to grey the deeper in.

After a while, black boxes are pinned to the apex of the tunnel. They’re barely visible against the ceiling far above them. Wires run from each one. Long clear tubes sitting within them reflect their torchlight.

“Hey! Would that alert us to this ‘Anthropy’ person?” Layla asks.

“I don’t think so. They look like they’d be lights. The filaments probably ran out long ago.”

“Filaments? Something to worry about?”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so, although we should stick to the side in case glass has fallen out.”

The walk still goes on. The path is taking a subtle curve. The ancient lights repeat themselves, teasing them that there's something to find. One of them has even fallen off - it’s easy to see it is made of the same uncanny blacksteel the ruins of Clear Crystal Chasm have. It looks like a void is trimmed out of the ground, its true shape impossible to tell.

Not much farther, they come to what must be their destination. A long structure sits in the middle of the tunnel, very out-of-place. Much like the lights, it too is a perfect black, no matter how close their torches get to it. He feels like he could just walk into it and end up in an infinite nothing. A black hole made material.

“Am I seeing this right?” Mark asks.

“Yeah. It’s blacksteel again, probably an even darker type than the Chasm ruins. Be careful not to walk into it - look at where it meets the ground,” she says.

Her casualty assures him the illusionary tear in reality is normal. Even more garishly, a grey screen and blue thumb drive port floats suspended in the air. He walks up to it. Looking at its side reveals its terminal separate from the building. It just blended in with is so well.

“I’ll do the honours.” Layla deftly plucks the key from her bag and places it in front of the slot. “No going back.”

She pushes it in. Nothing happens until she remembers to turn it upside-down, and then there’s a click. The screen flares up, hurting their eyes with its brightness. Mark squints to read it. He briefly catches the words “accepted.”

Total white engulfs all. The back of his eyes scorch with fierce pain. He screams and drops to the floor in agony, his partner joining him. Burying his face in his arms barely stops the light from sneaking in. Tears roll down his face.

“What is this?!?” Layla shouts desperately. “I can’t see! Where are you?”

“Close your eyes!” he shouts back. “Try to follow my voice!”

A claw grabs his leg. “It’s me! Now what?!?”

It’s hard to think. The blinding light disorients his sense of direction even as the pain recedes. Red, green, and purple dots dance across his vision, making unrecognizable forms. He opens his eye up the smallest bit he can. He needs to close it immediately as overwhelming agony floods back in, but not before seeing the still pitch-black building with a blinding hole in the middle of it.

Layla’s arms wrap around him and she buries her head into the side. “I’m scared, Mark. Answer me!”

“We have to wait. It’s all we can do.”

Wait they do. Darkness returns to the back of his eyelids. He peeks once more - It's still intense but not so overwhelming he needs to close them again. He slowly works to open his eye wider and wider, blinking plenty. His clinging partner and the bumps of the rock around him come back to view as it becomes obvious the light is coming from inside the building. Turning away from it helps plenty. The tunnel is visible all the way up until it bends out of view, save for the absurdly black light cases. How can blacksteel be that dark?

Layla’s eyes are adjusting too. She lets go and stands up with a wobble. “What magic is this?”

“Not magic. Our eyes are just too used to the darkness,” Mark says. There’s a sense of relief if not stupidity coming to this realization. The tunnel darkens more and its clear the light behind them is becoming more tolerable, although it’s still too bright to look at directly. That doesn’t stop Layla from turning to it and wincing. “I’m going in!”

“Layla!”

She has her way, walking in with an arm across her eyes. He scurries up and teeters inside too, squinting at the ground to abate the pain. The footsteps of her partner move away from him. He hears a ringing bwong followed by “Ah! I walked into something!”

Below, he makes out gridded white tiles. They’re clean save for dirty footprints of a Machamp and Gallade. A chemically clean smell drifts by him as his eyes adjust the rest of the way. He hears Layla scratch her claws on something like glass.

“No, I’m sorry Mark. This is magic. I don’t care what you say!”

Mark blinks more. The grid lines stay in view as afterimages even as he looks around. His torch is no longer a torch - the end of it smoulders no brighter than a lit cigarette. He braves looking around.

Layla stumbles around, too impatient to ease her eyes. She runs into a tall, wide tube, making another bwong. “Ugh, what is this?” she says. 24 of these vials line the two sides of the hallway in front of him, each with a handle. Naked humans stand in every second vat, submerged in clear pink liquid and held up by black bars under their shoulders. The other half have their doors swung wide open.

Mark's face opens in disbelief. “What?”

“Mark, say something to me! What is this?” she asks. She knocks against the glass. “What are these Pokemon?”

“Humans,” he says. Not entirely though, as he looks at the more. Some have animalistic ears and patches of vibrantly coloured fur. The one in front of Layla has an Absol’s horn hanging across her face.

“They’re so big!” Layla says, staring up at the woman. “How much food must they eat?”

Mark dazes out. He hazily glazes over each tube as his legs move him down the aisle. Each pair of vats is labeled with a name: The first is “Joseph”, the second “Carmichael”. He gulps.

A pool of the pink liquid lies among broken glass at the foot of a shattered vat at the very end of the line. His heart sinks. He keeps reading.

“Lulu.” “Marshel.” “Ameilia”.

He approaches the cylinder preceding the broken one. The human in it is the tallest of them all, hair inches below the cap. There are no Pokemon features but scars run over his rugged body in long lines. His right flank is disfigured. And the end of his right arm has a stump where a hand should be.

Tears well up in his eyes. His arms start shaking. He knows who this is.

“Mark?” Layla says softly. He hears her approach behind him. “Who is that?”

She shakes his head and he holds his forehead. His voice is pale. “It’s me. I turned into a Sableye here.”

Her expression is blank as she nods. She looks up his vat and gets close enough that her nose nearly touches. A hand rests on it. “Wow.” She does nothing else.

But Mark knows nothing about the man in front of him. This being a body is just a fact and he forgets what it's like to be him. His body teeters as his brain dizzies itself figuring out what to despair over if it doesn’t know what to miss. Was a human body even pleasant? Was there a family he loved?

He covers his mouth. The last thought made him sick - he can’t even cry over the parents he lost without his memories of them He looks at the other vat to get away from it.

The bars that hold other human bodies are here too, although much closer to the ground, where his shoulders would have been. Some of the pink liquid collects at the bottom where the glass’s cracks don’t reach.

Her partner knocks on the glass featuring his body to no avail. He ignores it and gets closer, splashing the fluid with his foot. He cranes his head up. There are no other features except for a gadget hanging on its roof. It’s a truncated pyramid with wires feeding into it. A red flow emanates from the bottom side. Tiny stars flow upwards behind it, into a purple-and-blue void that shifts and moves but never makes form.

He’s seen this void before.

Not just in the dreams he’s been having.

That’s right…

His clothes were heavy and stuffy that day. Sweat soaked his face and his lungs hurt. He was running. Soldiers fled with him through an ocean of ecstatic ghosts. Explosions went off around them. There was rubble. Untripped landmines. Bullet casings. Dirt. Blood. Humans. Pokemon. Corpses. Limbs. The scent of death. Crying. Laughing. Screaming. And screaming. And screaming. He screamed too. He screamed loud. The void was behind them.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 12
What Should Stay Forgotten​

I need to stay calm.

Mark ran away from a crimson glow bathing the backs of camouflage-clad soldiers and crumbling concrete buildings lining the street. They stamped over debris and fallen comrades while shouting and screaming. Pokemon joined them: Houndoom and other four-legged creatures outpaced them while the smaller Pokemon like Audinos fell behind. A torrent of ghost Pokemon with wide smiles ran the opposite way, phasing through anybody running into them.

The hue intensified as it caught up to them. The cries of soldiers cut out one by one. Mark dared glance back. A maelstrom of blue and purple mist crashed and churned beneath where ground once was. Stars swarmed around in the misty void, all fenced by the red glow at its circumference. Bodies dead or alive caught in its expansion fell out of the world. The ghosts dove into it with laughter and tears running down their faces.

There’s a bang and an explosion threw him into the air. Mark’s ears rang so hard he could not hear his own screaming as he crashed into the gravel. The wall of the void still advanced. He dug his fingers ahead of him and dragged forward with all his strength. Agony coursed through him, especially in the leg that was closest to the blast. Warm blood dripped down his thigh, his hands, even his eyes. Bodies lay around him and new ghosts pulled themselves out from the skins of the newly deceased. They looked to the void and eagerness grew across their faces.

Mark closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, tuned out all the pain and focused on this final moment of peace. But his end doesn’t come. The red circumference staked itself just beyond his foot. A formidable barrier holding in the misty ocean beyond, the stars shifting around like a million lilies in a pond. Waves of ghosts still ran past them all to dive off the cliff, forming a beautiful waterfall of spirits. Their deranged laughter lingered even once they fell out of sight.

I need to stay calm.

He shuffled away, putting safe distance between himself and the cosmic sea. He rubbed his forehead - blood trickled from cuts above his brow. He examined his body - red circles soaked his leg, but no shrapnel pierced his body.

His hearing gradually returned, picking up howls of pain among the cacophony of the cheerful ghosts. A man lay with his arms wrapped around his leg. His foot was blown off and blood flowed into a growing puddle beneath the hideous wound.

Mark got on his knees and shuffled up to his side, ignoring the pain flowing through his leg. The amputee rocks himself and clumsily gasps for air between breaths. “Save me! Please save me!”

He tossed a first aid kit off himself and popped it open. A plastic tourniquet is pulled out. Mark kept a collected expression as he wrapped it swiftly around his thigh. The bulk of the soldier’s leg made it an awkward fit. “This will hurt,” Mark said and wound the windlass. The soldier’s face bunched up and horrid screams left his mouth. His back arcs yet he fights hard to restrain himself. Tears well in his eyes.

“This pain will end eventually,” Mark said. |Just keep holding on. You will survive this, I promise”. The windlass tightened as far as it could. Blood has slowed to a trickle at the end of his limb and Mark felt no pulse when he checked. “The bleeding is stopped. Your wound will clod and then we will release this. And you’ll get to an emergency camp as soon as we can. This pain will pass.”

The soldier’s tears ran down his cheeks, glistening them. His eyes are red and his breathing is sporadic. But he nods to Mark.

Mark exaggerated carefully paced inhales and exhales while looking into his eyes. The soldier mirrored him. It brought him away from hyperventilation and lessened pained cries. The odd ghost whizzing over or through them distracted him, but Mark tapped his attention back to him before he stared at the looming void too long.

A few meters away, a soldier barely crawling with a uniform coloured more red than green collapsed. The soldier craned his head up. “Oh my god, Jacob?”

Jacob didn’t move.

I need to stay calm.

“Jacob? Is that you?! Say something!” the soldier asks again. He lurched his shoulders to get a better look.

Mark patted him. “Hey! Focus here!” Despite his own words, he couldn’t tear himself away from watching the fallen soldier alongside the other. A Banette’s arm reached out of the chest and patted around until it clutched the uniform. The rest of its phantasmal form pulled itself out of the body. It peered at its newly made arms.

“Jacob! Are you with me?” The soldier wiggled around to get closer, ignoring that it caused a new volley a anguished shouts.

Mark pinned him down and nudged him until he looked back. “We have to focus on getting you out. You can make it. There are people waiting for you. You can survive!”

The words only worked for seconds. He glanced back. Mark couldn’t hold himself back from looking too.

The ghost stood on its old body. It faced itself toward the void.

The soldier’s breathing became uneven again. “Don’t leave us! I need you!”

“Jacob!” Mark shouted. “We have a mission!”

It dashed and dove beyond the red barrier, joining the others tumbling away below.

“Jacob! No!” The amputee screams. His whole body buckled. Mark threw his body on top of him to hold him down, but he fought.

“Stop!” Mark shouted.

I need to stay calm.

The soldier twisted and jerked. Mark dug his boots into the gravel to keep pressure on him, ignoring the pain igniting inside his leg. Blood seeped into his eyes, stinging them and mixing with his tears. The soldier's agonized shrills reached a hellish pitch. “Let me die!” He shook and batted his arms at Mark. “Please let me die!” The breath between his screams became faint.

I NEED TO STAY CALM.

---

Mark’s back bangs against a tube. His legs continue scrambling as if he could push through the solid wall. Arms wrap around his head and tears roll down his face.

“Mark?” Layla says. Both sets of claws cover her mouth.

“Get away from me!” he shouts, holding a palm out against her while sliding his body in between two tubes.

She runs up and grips his shoulders. “Mark!” She shakes him until he looks at her. “Mark! Look at me! What’s wrong?”

His head darts around. His body jerks to throw her but she holds tight. Eventually, his eyes lock on to her’s and the tension dissolves. He’s left panting heavily and clamping his arms around her forearms.

“Mark!” Layla says, mouth hanging low.. “Just tell me what happened!”

His lips quiver. He forces air back into his lungs. “Layla. Why do you keep talking about humans using dark magic?”

“W-what? Uh, t-the legends. It’s in a lot of them. They supposedly used all sorts of dark, ‘evil’ magic, stuff that is forbidden. It led to them dying out or something, or so it says in these legends. Why? Are we in danger? What’s going on Mark? Please, just tell me!”

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 13
What Should Not Be Forgotten
​

Mark buries his head into his arms. He shakenly sucks in air. Layla jerks his shoulders around. “Mark! Please answer me! What’s wrong?”

He curls up harder. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! We’re not in any danger, I’m sorry. I just had a memory. There’s a lot I’ve forgotten.”

She lowers onto her knees and reaches her claws to his head, easing him to look up at her. Her eyes open wide with concern. “Are you okay? What did you see?”

He looks at her face. His heavy breathing calms down and his muscles relax. “Alright.” His legs cross and his hands settle in his lap as he speaks. “I must have been in the military on the surface. A medic, likely. We were in a war zone with crumbling buildings and everything - stuff I’m not sure you’d understand unless I draw it out. Everyone - humans and some Pokemon - was running away from some sort of 'dark void’, stuff that looked like what’s at the top of my tube. People who fell behind ‘fell’ into this dark magic, like it was a hole or something. And there were ghost Pokemon too. A lot of them, probably thousands. They ran the other way, trying to jump into the void, and most of them were smiling and laughing. Someone stepped on a landmine, and-” He gulps and winces as gory images flash his mind.

Layla rubs his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Landmine?”

He sways his head, not at her question but at the terrifying experience that happened after “it’s a device you step on, and it blows up. I was caught in it but I didn’t take too much damage, but other soldiers passed away or were grievously harmed. I think some of them may have been my friends, but I can’t remember that. One soldier in particular…”

The soldier’s pleading words are in his mind. It makes him put a claw on his face and rock his head. He spits his words out. “I had to give a tourniquet to him, just like to Millie. He was begging for death. Other soldiers were dying around us. The void was meters away from us.”

He lurches forward and shakes his head as if the thoughts would be tossed out of his mind. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Layla pulls him into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“Millie. Everything about Millie was so calm and controlled compared to this. No threats. No complications. Everything about the underground just feels like it's been so calm compared to all this. I guess I’ve really been through worse? Like the underground is ideal? Normal!? Maybe? It’s all stuff I’m now realizing I feel prepared for. What’s wrong with me, Layla?”

Her hand strokes and pats his back. “You’re okay. That makes sense. I used to be more afraid of everything until I had to get out of bad situations myself, now things just feel normal cause I survived worse. Here- were able to see the surface, though? That didn’t look destroyed or anything, right?”

“The surface? Yeah. Buildings were falling apart but I think there were still trees in the distance. So the world’s probably not dead if that’s what you’re worried about, although I don’t know how many places would be under this ‘dark magic’ though.”

Her head nods to every word. She slides away from the hug to show him an encouraging smile. “Well, the surface is real at least, and out there to find. That’s a reassurance, don’t you think?” After one more pat to his back, she stands up to offer a hand. “Think you’ll be good to keep searching this place? There might still be clues. It’d probably get your mind off whatever you say.”

He shakes his head. “I still need a breather.” In and out, his breath steadies to normalcy and he moves his thoughts elsewhere, thinking over what Layla’s said so far. “Actually, I have a question, I just realized something. Why haven’t you told me any of that?”

“Any of what?” Her head tilts.

“The legends about the dark magic?”

The back of her foot taps. She props an arm up against the vat as she speaks. “I didn’t actually believe that the dark magic was what destroyed the humans. Everybody fears these tales to some degree but it’s mostly a City Guild thing, you know? They’d teach them to the young and talk about how if human artifacts didn’t kill you, the guild would. And these tales got passed all the way down to people in the Pokemon Guild and Scrap Town, who still fear they may be dangerous. But why would humans destroy themselves with their own magic? It didn’t make sense, so I thought there was no point telling you about bullshit, although I guess there may be some truth to those legends now. Either way, you said you remembered facts, right? I thought you’d know something about their ‘dark magic’ if it existed!”

Mark taps his chin. He definitely can’t remember the cosmic void beyond what he’s seen in his dreams. But that energy should still have a name. That’d be a fact! Not just that, but the person who interviews him in the dreams - shouldn’t he have known her name since waking up? “I guess there are facts I forgot about too. I must have never thought of it cause I wouldn’t have known what I don’t know. I probably- no, definitely jumped to conclusions too fast.” He scratches the top of his head.

She sighs and brief silence follows. Her claw’s offered once more. “Hey, let’s fix that. We’ll find out what you forgot.”

Mark grabs her forearm and gets hoisted onto his feet. “Yeah. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s some purpose why I’m down here. I want to find out what it was.”

They both look around. A row of square bins lies on the wall opposite the entrance, blending in with the wall. “There,” Layla says.

They’re clean and glossy, with only finger- and paw-prints faintly visible once they approach them. Each of their lids have depressed handles in their center. A few strands of fur dirty the floor around them.

Mark taps the lid of a central bin. Layla goes to the far left one to bang a fist into the top.

“Layla!” he shouts and scrambles towards her. The corner splits and it caves in, exposing how cheap the plastic is. Mark pulls the lid off. Lying inside are grey shiny wrappers and a lot of empty space.

The wrappers make crinkling sounds as Layla prods them. “What are those?”

He swipes one and turns it around and a few crumbs fall out. The inside is matte. No text is on either side. “Food.”

Her eyes widen. “What?!” She swipes a wrapper and throws it into her mouth.

“No! Not like that!” Mark grabs her arm but she’s already chewing away, a cheek pushing out.

Her cheeks are popped out on one side. “Mmm?”

“The grey stuff is what wrapped the food! It isn’t the food itself!”

A lump goes down her throat. “I don’t understand.”

He takes a deep breath and rubs his brow. He didn’t need this, the warzone flashback was enough stress. “Okay. I’ll rephrase. These aren’t food. They would have wrapped the food you’d actually eat, but all of it’s already eaten.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Oh! Okay!” She cocks her head and smirks from the corner of her mouth. “I’ve eaten weirder stuff though. I’ll be fine.”

Weirder than human artifacts you know nothing about? “Let’s just check the other bins. Don’t eat stuff unless I say it’s safe. Actually, don’t touch stuff either.”

“Got it.”

They go down the row of bins and pop each lid. There are twelve, one for each human-turned-Pokemon that would have come out of an empty vat. Each one had wrappers save for the last three, and some bins had water bottles which Layla thankfully didn’t eat. The two before Mark’s are completely empty, which made Layla look disappointed. But they’re on the final one, the one meant for Mark.

No wrappers, but a whole stash of water, and tucked in the back are two yellowed pages of paper. English stretches across their faces.

“There! Right there!” Layla points at it even as Mark takes it out. Their left edges are rough like it was torn out of a book. The paper otherwise has few creases and only a bit of a bend as damage.

Mark reads it aloud.

“Mark,

“It’s me, Mathew. I’m sorry, I needed to destroy the journal we used to pass information between us. We’re at risk of someone named Lucia discovering too much, so I’m taking extra precautions. I really do not want a repeat of what happened with Regidrago down here. Still, here’s what you need to know.

“Anthropy really fucked it up. They controlled the information so well that they’ve forgotten about us, while managing to gaslight everyone into thinking the info is more dangerous than it is. As a result, they prosecuted anyone sharing information not approved by Anthropy. It’s been a massive headache over the centuries. Most of us have tried to go to them and talk about the surface and ended up being chased down or worse. Not that it matters, we haven’t really ever met the conditions to return to the surface.

“I say ‘approved by Anthropy;’ Anthropy has ended up becoming something called the City Guild. I don’t know if they were overthrown by a group that kept a lot of their same values and goals minus some religious aspects or they just ended up changing names, but Anthropy is no more. No one recognizes the name.

“There’s also another guild, the Pokemon Guild. Stealing food’s been a problem in the last 550 years and throughout two-thirds of that time span, the City Guild just exiled thieves and any other criminals to below the cliffs. Those exiles formed towns that grew their own food and eventually the City Guild and their allies gave up being nice guys and tried to take their food once they ran out of their own. The Pokemon Guild was formed to oppose them, and even take some of their own farms from them. The Pokemon Guild is more recent - I think they formed in the last 100 years or so?

“Either way, the previous leader of the City Guild as of this writing was overthrown before I woke up. Lucia is the current leader and from what I was able to gather, she believes the old guild was too passive with addressing the Pokemon Guild. She’s been aggressively countering the Pokemon Guild and she plans to go to war with them. She’s also more brutal at punishing criminals than the build in the past. And she’s very popular, despite all that. We’ve gone full circle.

“Here’s the very problematic thing about her. Despite defying the whole point of Anthropy - and I guess the City Guild - she’s looking into human ruins, hoping to find a weapon to use against the Pokemon Guild. ‘Breaking tradition and fighting unquestioned superstition to secure their future,’ or something. She’s been sending out parties to comb tunnels and is trying to decipher the Latin alphabet. I’m afraid she’ll discover me or this place with how thorough she is. I buried the original journal.

“It’s actually a bit twisted. The Underground’s been so good at forgetting everything that they forgot what the real danger actually was. If they knew a bit more they would stop, although I guess the plan worked for centuries.

“That being said, all this guild conflict nonsense may be a blessing in disguise. If they go to war and one of them wins, we might have the best chance we ever had to go to the surface. It’s fucked up but we don’t have any other option. In a way, of fucking course this would. Fuck all this. Knowing the truth really hurts at this point.

“Either way, I’m going to take it easy and hide, hoping they will take the other out. Maybe you won’t have to wake up at all! If you do though, try to find me, I’m sure I can help you even though I’ll be 70 years old. I haven’t ever used my real name but I have left a clue inside the Pokemon Guild. I figured if Lucia topples Merka - the Pokemon Guild’s current leader - before you wake up, then I would actually want her to find me, y’know?

“Anyways, a few more things you need to know. There is incredibly little food. John also stole our rations so fuck him. Total scum. Get food sorted asap.

“And be careful of the substation. Criminals from both guilds ended up settling there, and it's now called Scrap Town. There are truly some of the most violent Pokemon out there living in the place. Just avoid it.

“Between The City Guild and Pokemon Guild, I recommend joining the latter. They’re just closer, that’s all.

“Also, Mystery Dungeons are a thing. They’re formed when enough Pokemon fight each together in a close enough space. It’s like, 7 fighting at once in the space of a room? The layouts change each time you enter them and they’re filled with violent and irrational Pokemon - Pokemon who aren’t considered real people. Money and food can show up inside but nobody knows why. Well, it’s not hard to imagine, huh? Being put underground sure wasn’t bad enough.

“There’s a few Mystery Dungeons you should know about. Crystal Chasm Cavern is one of them. The ruins inside are already known to Lucia, which is why I’m okay mentioning it. Primordial Road is also a Mystery Dungeon. I know that sounds alarming but it weirdly kinda means nothing. Nobody knows it exists. Must have been made very early on. Either way, Lucia would need to search far and wide. She’ll never find it in her lifetime.

“There’s one more but I can’t say it: Lucia must not even know it has significance. That should be a big enough clue for you to figure it out, especially if you ask Pokemon what Mystery Dungeons are out there.

“Lastly, people don’t write with English letters anymore - which they call ‘Human Script.’ Pokemon write with ‘Footpaw Script.’ The letters are arrangements of shapes - the shapes can be anything, but their meaning is formed by their placement and orientation. Other than that, it’s still English. You should be able to decipher it. Sadly it means Lucia won’t take long to decipher it either.

“That’s all you need to know. Here we are, 600 years later, assuming Lucia doesn’t find you. Best of luck, Mark. And destroy this journal when you’re done.

“Though if it’s truly impossible and hopeless, just end it all. It’d be mercy for us. Although deep down I know you’re the kind of person who couldn’t do that…

“And Lucia. If you’re reading this, please stop what you’re doing. The truth’s complicated but the warnings your guild used to teach did actually have an element of truth to them. Continue down this path and everyone will die. Try to make peace with the Pokemon Guild however you can and find the surface that way. It’s the only way your city will find happiness.”

Layla’s awkwardly leaning her chin over Mark’s shoulder. “Well? What else?”

“That’s it,” Mark says. He turns the pages around - there’s a rough map behind one of them which also has a list of Mystery Dungeons and their locations. Primordial Road isn’t listed.

“Well, do you remember anything more?” she asks, leaning her even head closer to the paper and making Mark lean away.

“No. Nothing. But I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to forget anything.” He looks inside the bin, but there are no more clues.

Layla taps his shoulder. “Hey, we still discovered a lot. I always thought it was suspicious how much the City Guild cared about information about the surface, back when I was still living there. Before Lucia.”

“Wait, what?”

She pushes her palms out and shakes them. “Y-yeah! I know! But I’m not like them! I was young. We got kicked out.”

He waves both his hands. “No. ‘Before Lucia?’”

“Yeah. She took over a little under a generation ago. Why?”

Concern grows across Mark’s face. “The way this letter was worded makes me believe there were 50 years between each human waking up. Lucia would be really old if 50 years really did pass since Mathew wrote this. They must have awoken me early.”

“‘50 years?’ Well, eh...” She cranes her head down and thinks for a few moments. “They were looking for you, so it's not surprising they found you.” Her claw waves dismissively. “Either way, we definitely need to figure out more of your memories, and we need to learn more about what we discovered today. Myla and Andy may know something about this ‘Anthropy’ and ‘Primordial Road’ stuff, and possibly about this other human too.”

He nods. “Yeah, we still need to know more. There may still be clues here though.” He looks around. The lab’s clean and empty beyond the tall tubes and their instruments around them. However, there’s a faint outline of a door in the corner beside the bins. A subtle depression reveals a handle. Mark heads to it.

“Wait, I got this!” Layla says, running past him. She kicks it.

“Hey!”

It buckles without opening. An acidic order leaks out. Her foot pounds it again, leaving a scratch in the surface.

“Let me try it!” Mark says, brushing her aside. He grabs the hollow handle and slides it aside.

It’s darker, emptier, and much smaller inside. Right across the door is a broom, dustpan, mop handle, and a trashcan. Plastic-wrapped wet pads for the mop rest around the ground by it. Mark walks to the can - dirty, used pads inside create the foul smell.

“Hey Mark, you’re missing something!”

“Huh?” He turns around. There’s a contraption like what’s at the top of Mark’s tube, but much larger. The red light rimming it is harsh and cosmic hues swirl in a grand ocean of cosmic hues beyond the glow. Cables thick and thin spew out of the base and snake up the walls into gaping ceiling panels above. Screams whisper in Mark’s ears as he looks at it: he’s unsure if it’s a latent power of the energy or trauma planted in his subconscious.

“What’s this?” Layla asks. She walks up to it.

“Wait, you’re not going to kick it!” Mark says.

She has a leg up. “What?”

Mark sighs. “Use the end of the mop. Th-the pole, that is. And please stop touching and eating things you don’t know about.”

Still holding her leg up, she rubs her chin and considers this for far longer than she should. “Yeah, you’re right. I just get too excited sometimes. I keep forgetting this dark magic.” Her foot comes down and she picks up the pole. The top end is guided over to the flat top of the contraption, and with Mark giving a little nod, she taps it. Even though it looks like you can dive into the cosmic sea within, the pole clinks on an invisible surface.

“Should I tap it harder? Try to break it maybe?” Layla asks, tone calm this time.

“Nah. It could be dangerous and it wouldn’t help us get closer to the surface, so no point risking it. Plus, it’s probably powering the base.”

“Power?” She looks back at him.

His finger points at the twisting cables and traces them into the ceiling. “Yeah, the lights here and likely the vats need power - energy - to work. Energy like attacks electrical Pokemon can make. This is probably providing that power, nothing else here seems to be providing that source.”

There are more clinks as Layla taps different sides of the machine. “So, this really is dark magic.”

Mark wants to refute it, but is he even sure that’s wrong? What he saw on the battlefield didn’t look natural. “Honestly, it could be.”

She nods. “Great.” Then she moves over to the can and peers into it. She pokes the end of the pole inside. “What about this?”

“Huh? Oh, mop pads. You attach them to the end of this handle and you can clean the floor with it. Once you’re done, you throw the pad away.”

“Wow, human dark magic is amazing.” She tries to lift one up with the handle. “Safe to pick these up?”

“They’re dirty. Plus, those aren’t clues. They’re used for cleaning.”

“Boo.” The pole jerks around, like she’s seeing how squishy or durable the pads are. “By the way, what are those thick Ekans things coming out of that dark magic altar?”

He quickly figures out she’s referring to the cables and obliges. She asks more questions, and it evolves into a long q-and-a where Layla asks about the plastic broom, the vats outside, the key terminal, the key, lights, plastic, and a lot of questions about rations. They end up touring the lab more as she branches off into more topics, which Mark happily answers. Abyssal seas aside, there is a lot about humans that really is extraordinary.

Eventually, her curiosity’s exhausted. “Alright, let’s go. We’ll let Jace burn that human script thingy.” She leaves the lab, turns around to get one last look inside, and beckons Mark out.

“Okay. I’m going to lock this .” He says and steps out to the terminal. The blacksteel is unusual - so much light floods out yet the terminal is a perfect shade of black. He puts the key in after remembering to put it upside-down. There’s a quick mechanical chirr and everything becomes pitch black.

Layla’s feet prattle around. “Wait Mark, what’s going on?”

Mark waves his arm around, feeling the weight of the torch. He reasons where the end of it should be and squints hard. There’s a pathetic ember of dark crimson at the tip. “Our eyes are adjusted to the light. Now we’d have to wait for them to adjust to the dark.”

“What? Like if you were to leave the magma caverns? Bullshit.” Her footsteps wander around until they get closer to Mark. She bumps into him and they both fall over.

“Ow. Hey!” he says. Her weight’s right above him.

“Sorry there. I couldn’t see you! Hey, let’s stay like this.”

“Huh?” He looks around, but can’t see her. “Yeah. Sure.”

She crosses her arms over his chest. He imagines her head’s resting on top.

“Hey Mark, I’m on top of you,” she says in a singsong voice.

“Yup,” he mutters, still not seeing her. Shouldn’t Sableye have night vision?

An epiphany hits him. He probably has had night vision the entire time - the caves have just been that dark the entire time. If it weren’t for the torches, these caves probably have zero light, and night vision still needs that to see. These torches probably aren’t that bright either, given the seemingly infinite longevity they have.

This is advanced darkness.

“Hey Mark, how flustered are you right?”

“Huh?”

Her claw prods his cheek. “You get all blushy and stuttery whenever I get close to you. Now the underground’s most gorgeous lady is right on top of you and you’re all calm?”

“I can’t see the beautiful girl on me… Plus I thought you did this sort of affection for emotional support.”

There’s silence before Layla rolls into sitting on top of his belly. “Eh, not all the time. Sometimes I just want a cute guy to go ‘Oh my god a pretty girl aaaa.’”

He chuckles nervously and pokes her side. “W-well, you are the most beautiful girl in the Underground.”

“You know it, Mark.”

“It’s true!”

They laugh, the long hallways echoing it.

“Although please get off me, this is hurting a bit,” Mark says, patting her side.

“Aww.” She gets off.

“I’m sorry!”

There is more prattling as Layla walks in circles. Eventually, Mark’s own body comes into sight, and many moments later, his teammate. The curved walls of the tunnel follow. He stands up and holds his arm out for Layla to take.

It's a long walk and both were silent in thought. Smiles stayed on their faces the whole walk home. Finally, success.

 

[BestLizard]

Chapter 14
Learning and Discovery​

Clouds of deep purple and blue shift and overlap but never form. A sea of stars drifts among them in tranquil peace. Two voices speak in the distance: Mark’s own, and a feminine voice, who sounds like an old friend.

“A Sableye,” she says. “You’re okay with being a Sableye? If you have any doubts, speak up. Finding the right body for you is most important.”

“The more I think about it, the more I feel it's the choice meant for me, even if it’s not a practical Pokemon.”

“It’s okay if it isn’t practical. You shouldn’t need to fight anyways.”

“Sableye, then.”

“Alright. And there’s still a few days before we transfer you and feel free to change your mind in that time, but we’ll go ahead and prepare a Sableye body for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you. You’re the one sacrificing a lot. It’s the least we can do.”

“I’m just doing what’s right. I wouldn’t be happy otherwise. That being said, is it okay if it’s a bit taller than a regular Sableye?”

The two continue to speak, but the voices become reverberated and faint. Soon, it’s silent, and the sea of stars turns dark.

---

Clink, clank, clunk. Layla’s hopping down the labyrinth of crossbeams holding the scrap hut’s upper layers. “Hey, Mark!” she says, landing next to his bed. “It’s time to wake up!”

Mark’s not in his bed.

She looks around confused. “Mark?”

“Yes?” he asks. He’s by the entrance, stretching his arms over his head. His torch and adventure bag are already on him.

She leans in and raises an eyebrow. “You’re already up?”

“We got to figure out more about what we learned.” He stretches his arms forward instead of above. “I’m just really eager. Plus, I’m hungry.”

Both her eyebrows rise.

He furrows in confusion. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing! I’m just too used to dragging you out of bed. It’s more fun that way.”

“Oh, uh.” He shakes his limbs to round out the stretch, then lifts a free arm to her. “You can still drag me to Myla’s cafe.”

She leaps to him and clasps his wrist. A giggle escapes. “You still know how to be a good partner.”

“Hey, I like it.” He smirks.

She wiggles her eyebrows before dragging him all the way to the cafe.

---

A scene’s brewing inside. Pokemon circle around a single table and loud voices shout over each other. Some push each other while jeers and profanity slip by. Myla’s leaning over the bar and watching, hand-ribbons holding her cheeks while her head pleasantly bobs side-to-side. Her eyes flick to Team Surface for a brief moment.

“Heeeeeey Myla,” Layla says. She hops onto a stool and leans over the counter, smirking at her with claw-in-cheek. Mark settles for watching the commotion, tapping his chin.

“A fight’s about to begin,” Myla says. “Come on, let’s watch it together.”

“Hmmm maybe, but we need info again. And we got plenty to share with you!” Her eyebrow perks to tempt the ghost, although Myla’s too distracted to notice.

“Hey, if they fight, won’t it make a Mystery Dungeon?” Mark asks. His eyes flick between the crowd and two girls at the bar.

“Nah,” they say in unison. Myla follows up, “Most will peel off and form a line once fists start flying. Only two to four will actually fight at once. And if things get bad anyways, Mamon here will stop them.”

A Duskull wiping down a bowl to their side grunts. He’s hovering lower than the counter.

“Still,” Mark crosses his arms. “We shouldn’t let them start, right?”

“Hey Layla,” Myla says. “Think Penelope’s finally going to die?”

Mark smacks his forehead.

“Mmmm,” Layla twists her head to stare at the crowd. Her tongue wiggles around in her mouth as she thinks. “You really should hear what we have to say. We discovered a lot about, y’know. The major stuff. The big, juicy steak of stuff. The stuff that drips. Mmmm good stuff.”

Their eyes meet. Layla’s brows waggle. “Come on, what do you want more?”

“Fine. Mamon, cheer on Phil, make sure he kills the bitch,” she says before her body floats backwards without breaking her leaning pose. The servant grunts in response and continues scrubbing the bowl while she passes through the wall.

Mark rolls his eyes to the two and steps towards the crowd with his arms waving. “Hey, break it up, everyone! No need for figh- aaah!” Layla pulls him by the ear, all the way around the corner and through the rustic door in spite of his flailing.

Cool musty air still lingers here. The boxes are stacked in cacophonous arrangements, some open and others closed. The biggest difference to the room was no more prisoner in the corner. Instead, splotches of blood drip down the wall. Mark seethes at it, but Layla barely notices it.

Myla’s waiting in the middle. Layla hops onto a box nearby and lays on her side, claw in her cheek. Mark stands by her and fidgets his claws.

“Alright, what’s the update?” Myla asks.

“It’s a long story.” Layla’s eyes roll to emphasize the word “long”. “We, uh, um, where to start…” She looks at Mark.

“You must know how there were two Lucia guildmembers searching for something in the lower tunnels, right? A Gallade and a Machamp?” Mark says.

“Yup,” Myla says. “They’ve been missing for a few days. What about them?”

Mark taps his heel as he recalls all the info. “They were aware that there was a human out somewhere in the lower tunnels. A human who turned into a Pokemon, although didn’t actually know which species… I was. The Gallade we found was supposed to find me and the key he had was supposed to open a lab where I was frozen in time by ‘black magic.’ They did actually find me, but on the way back, came across one of Merka’s team and they took each other out. Then Layla found me.

“We went back there, and found the lab I came from. We found a journal…”

Mark went on to explain the last series of events in thorough detail. Jace, the laboratory tubes, his memories of the past, Anthropy and the corpse, everything in the journal, even his dreams. Mark’s hands got more animated the further into the story he went. Myla’s grin, for the first time Mark ever witnessed, turned into a muted, prospecting grimace. Layla interjects a few times, but only to exaggerate how mysterious the human’s dark magic is.

“We were wondering if you may know anything that could help,” Mark says. “Especially about ‘Anthropy.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

Myla closes her eyes and shakes her head. “No, actually. Although this is the kind of group I would have heard about, especially if it used to be the City Guild itself. Eh,” her ribbon reaches around to scratch the back of her head. “The fact I haven’t heard about them is pretty significant. They’re either not very powerful or they’re very recent, and they wouldn’t be connected to the City Guild cause then Lucia wouldn’t need to have asked where you are. Either way, sounds like you could learn more if you go straight after them.”

“What?” Mark asks.

“Think about it,” Myla says. “A single scary note. There are more effective ways of threatening people.” She gestures her head towards the blood. “Either they don’t believe they’re strong enough to confront you, or they’re not serious about this.”

Layla speaks up. “We have no leads though!”

Mark shakes his head.“No, that’s not true. I mentioned I was a human aloud to Andy. Anybody who was in the cafe on that day could be Anthropy. I might be able to remember who was there.” He rubs his chin a bit more before looking at Layla. “It wouldn’t be Andy, right?”

“No! He pretty much raised me!” She frowns with brows furrowed in offense. “Took care of me after my father died and later my mother. He was always teaching me about being nice to others and not killing others for the longest time. It couldn’t possibly be him. Besides, he supports me finding the surface, even if he doesn’t like it.”

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure, it is a relief to hear it.”

“Hey,” Myla gets the two’s attention. “It’s more likely this 11th human spilled the beans, or there’s a source of information both of them are using. Either way, the guild is hiding secrets about the surface, so there’s another path to pursue.”

Both Mark and Layla look down to ponder this.

Myla continues. “And on top of that, if answers are buried in the past, then exploring Upside-Downtown may also help as well. Their legends run back the furthest.”

Layla sighs. “That’s on the other side of the Underground.”

She shrugs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know,” she says wistfully. “But that’s the end of everything I can share, I don’t have much to say. Upside-Downtown, Anthropy, the 11th human, and prying from Lucia’s Guild directly - these are where I’d try to find more answers. I can look into getting a high-ranking Lucia guildmember kidnapped, but it’s unlikely to happen and you’d owe me big if I do.”

“Yeah.” Layla rubs the back of her neck and sheepishly looks to the side as she ponders. “Thank you, this helps a lot.”

Mark nods to Myla. “The 11th human’s hiding in Merka’s Guild. That sounds like the most reliable path at the moment.”

Layla shakes her head. “The guild’s dangerous. Upside-Downtown makes a little sense but… Are you sure it’ll have anything useful? It’s such a long trek.”

Myla nods. “It might not have anything. I mostly pointed it out cause there’s little risk involved. Anyways,” she turns around. “I want to see who died.”

“Wait!” Layla says, free hand reaching out. She exaggerates her lounging pose. Her voice becomes smoother. “You know, we’re all alone together again. Just like old times.”

Mark points to himself. “What about me?”

“Well, and Mark. S-still! We can spend some time together before you head back. Get to know each other more like those days.” Her grin widens.

Myla turns around. She says nothing.

“Just one kiss! Come on! Right here,” she says tapping her lips.

“Is this the best time?” Mark asks.

“Mark! It’s always the right time for love! Plus, you definitely want to see girls make out. You’re already blushing.”

“What?” he says. He rubs his cheek. It’s warm! “Uh, uh, um- Uhh,”

The large ghost floats over her and pushes a ribbon into her forehead. “When you’re on the surface. But I’m sorry. I want to but nothing’s gonna work if you’ll never be around. And I kinda care about how I feel.”

“We have time now!” Layla says, grin growing more smug.

Myla’s ribbon caresses her chin. “Find the surface,” she whispers. “Then we’ll have all the time we need.” After that, she floats away backwards, tauntingly waving her goodbye.

Just before she phases through, Layla speaks up. “I’m sorry I can’t be around as often as you want, I wish I could.”

Myla stops before going through the wall. “You make love so complicated.”

“I love you,” Layla says with a stern expression.

“Just find the surface.” She phases through.

Mark twiddles his thumbs. The musty air and its chilly bite are strong in this silence. “Is everything alright?”

A longing sigh is let out as she looks at the spot Myla passed through. “I just wish things could be different.” She drums her fingers against her legs before looking at Mark properly. “Also, I didn’t uh, make you uncomfortable or anything, have I? With the whole ‘you can watch’? Or even my behaviour in general? I’m a bit guilty about that.”

“No, no you didn’t. I’m just not used to uh… Girls.”

She shifts and swings a leg over the other. Her foot taps while the smirk she had with Myla comes back. “That’s fine. You’re cuter when you’re flustered anyways.”

“Th-thanks.” He rubs the back of his neck.

A brow quirks and her eyes lid. “Want to kiss me?”

(Art by Bograbbit)​

Mark fumbles a lot of sounds without any word actually coming out. His heart pounds against his chest.

It makes the girl giggle. “Just right here.” Her claws tap her lips. “Mwah, you know? Be my boyfriend.”

He takes a deep breath and walks forward. He grips the edge of the box, leans in, and pecks his lips. His cheeks turn completely red.

“What?” Layla’s eyes light up in surprise.

Mark tenses and gulps. “D-did I do it wrong?”

She giggles and pinches his cheek to stretch it wide out. “I liked it. It was good. I just didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Well, the prettiest girl in the underground is asking for a kiss. Of course I had to take it. Ah!” Layla stretches his cheeks even further.

“That’s the correct response. And call me pretty more. I really like that.”

“Eheh… But, uh,” his tone becomes concerned, “does this mean we are dating or something?”

His cheek snaps as she lets go. “Do you want to?”

“I- No, actually. Like, I don’t know. Not yet, you know? Uh,” He looks away. She’s still a murderous stranger by the end of the day.

“Hey, hey, I do like you, but it’s okay if you don’t want to date me. I’m actually glad you cleared that up.” She grabs his chin and turns his head towards her. “But hey, just know it’s okay if we kiss just because it’s fun. I don’t mind that and don’t feel bad about it.”

He looks into her eyes for a bit but ends up looking away again. “It-It’s tempting, but I’m not sure if it's right. T-that was just a kiss, uh, um, uh, I’m worried about going fast.”

She gently squeezes his shoulder. “Hey. Follow your heart. We don’t need to do anything.”

Mark let out a sigh of relief. “Alright. And I’m sorry. I’m not used to being attracted to girls and I just really don’t want to be hasty, especially since everything has been a lot of whiplash. I’ve only been here five or six days.”

Her comforting smile diminishes a bit, although she still consoles him by rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I guess I am being a lot for you. I can stop teasing if it’ll help. I might not be the best at that though. I’m not the best with self-control.”

“No, that’s-” he pushes his foot around and takes a deep breath. He tries her advice and pays attention to what his heart says. “That’s fine. I enjoy it, actually even if it makes me a nervous wreck.” He looks up again. “It’s just something fun, yeah?”

“Yes. I enjoy making you a nervous wreck. And if you ever want to turn something down or ask me to stop, I’ll do that, okay? But I’ll keep teasing you for now, and I haven’t even done my biggest teasing yet.” She winks.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m figuring out a lot of things fast. Heh.” He smirks and gulps one last time before looking at her again. He can’t pull away from looking at her eyes and infectious smirk. How beautiful he finds her. “Still, can we try kissing just… One more time?”

She bursts out laughing and she swings herself upright. “Yes, yes we can.” Her claws cusp his shoulders to inch him closer. Mark’s chest thumps, his breath gets light, and their mouths finally press together. The two soon lean into each other, wrapping their arms around each other. She caresses the back of his head while Mark closes his eyes and savours this moment with her.

After a good while, she parts from him with a smug, satisfied grin. “You liked that?”

“Heh. Eheh. Hehehe.” Mark loses giggling. It makes her chuckle in turn. She toys with his ear fin a bit until he settles down, but that moment never comes.

“Alright, alright. We do have to do more missions, unfortunately. I know, I know.” She slips off the box. “Think you’ll be ready soon?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. You’re the best. Heh.”

She chuckles and gives him a quick hug before grabbing his forearm. “I am. By the way, what changed? You’re different today.”

“What? I, uh,” he takes a few breaths to collect his thoughts. “I think it’s learning that there’s a purpose to me being down here and everything. Like, I feel a need to move, now that I have a direction to go. I don’t quite feel the same anymore.”

“Well, keep it up, it’s good for you,” she says with a wink, before moving them out of the cold, bloody room. Mark never stops giggling as Layla drags him across the cafe, and her gleeful smile never leaves.