-5- Reflections, concluded.

Matthew's pace picked up. "There it is!"

Solymar yawned. "It better be handing out wallets full of money."

Matthew responded without much emotion. "It's better than that."

The home was very plain and of simple construction. Its yard was accented by two cherry trees, a rock garden, and a small pond with a small fountain and goldfish, over which a wooden bridge crossed. While the property seemed out-of-place amongst suburban homes from the outside, within its fence, it felt almost like a miniature temple. Sam, in his costume, seemed to fit right in for some reason.

Upon the home's porch stood a xatu at the right, and sat an absol at the left.

The absol spoke with a gentle, although distinctly bestial, voice. "Welcome, children. Bring your companions forth to be seen."

Solymar barged ahead. "Yeah, yeah, where's the candy?"

Harmony's gentle voice lowered slightly. "There is no candy for humans here."

"Then what's the point?"

Harmony nodded toward a bowl on the porch between herself and the xatu. "You may take a fortune cookie if you like."

"Komo, we're going home."

Komo dutifully followed his trainer, and forfeited his opportunity to receive a treat from the temple.

Matthew observed protocol and presented Roscoe. The xatu leaned forward and stared into Roscoe's eyes for some time before breaking away, picking up from a table beside him a small box with a wire handle in his beak, and giving it to Roscoe, who accepted the gift with a nod.

Following Matthew's lead, Terrance, Percival, and Joe presented their pokemon for evaluation. Each received a box according to the xatu's perception.

Every box was sealed with a label bearing a legend written in a very fine hand. Burner read his aloud as the group departed. "Your gift lies within another. This key may open a lock beneath the mid-day sun." "What does that mean?"

Joe shrugged. "Beats me."

Grace read hers next. "Patience, until each is wholly doubtless." Grace opened her box and removed a necklace with a very dull rock hanging from it as a pendant. "What's this thing?"

Percival took a look at it. "It's an everstone. It suppresses pokemon evolution. Maybe the spooky bird thinks you should stay the way you are for a while."

Grace put the necklace back in the box and dropped it into Joe's candy sack, and grumbled, "maybe he should mind his own business." Burner dropped his inside as well, unopened.

With the temple that was Matthew's intended high-point of their raid behind them, the group began to fracture, with each remaining member following a path home, leaving Percival and Joe to travel together as Matthew and Terrance split away. Hearing indistinct P.A. voices emanating from the park, they detoured to investigate.

At the park, a local television station was running a costume contest and talent show. Almost anyone had a chance at winning something, independent of the quality or theme of their costume or performance, since prizes were awarded according to how many judges on the panel approved of the display.

Percival, Joe, and their pokemon joined the audience just in time to see what would be the big winner of the night. Not a true magician, since his "secret" was given away by his introduction as "Delano and His Dozen Dittos," Delano nonetheless amazed the crowd as his talented pokemon helped generate the illusion of Delano performing numerous famous magic tricks in a continuous and overlapping performance, seemingly summoning assistants, props, animals, and even extra Delanoes at-will to create a parody of traditional magic that arguably excelled beyond the source art. With a favorable vote from all of the judges, Delano was awarded a handsome cash prize.

Knowing it would be a tough act to follow, the event's organizers delayed talent contestants for a while to help ensure that they would get a fair shake. An aide scouted the audience for potential costume contestants, and convinced Sam and Grace to appear on-stage, where a voiced jynx introduced the costume contestants like runway models at a high-profile fashion show. Both received a handful of favorable votes, and were awarded prizes of Pokemart gift cards and hats bearing the television station's logo.

After a moment in the spotlight, Percival, Joe, and their pokemon were ready to go home, sit down, and dig into their bounty. Soon after they left Rennin Park, an acquaintance took the stage.

The jynx's voice flowed lyrically through the P.A. system. "Next up, with a costume made completely of recycled materials, Alice!"

A riolu confidently strode up to the jynx at the center of the stage and spun about to show everyone the refined scrap that she wore.

"Wow, you really do look like a little angel. Tell us why you chose to make this costume."

Alice gave a quick glance to the judges. "Because my daddy had to go away so I would be okay. My trainer said he is an angel now, and I wanted him to look down and see that I still think about him."

The jynx aimed to lighten the subject. "Oh, that's so nice of you. Is your trainer out there watching you tonight?" she gestured toward the audience, normally a cue for one of the cameramen to zoom in on the contestant's trainer. The jynx was unaware that this pokemon was unaccompanied.

"He had to go away, too. I hope he is watching me, though."

The jynx broke a sweat, rare for an Ice-type, and turned the attention to the judges. Most suspected this to be a ploy, and rightfully so to a small degree, but a few sympathized and voted to award Alice a prize. Enough did so to secure the riolu a Pokemart gift card. Alice was satisfied, as her cash cache was beginning to run thin.



"I am," whispered Prisoner H1432.

Across the table from him, Prisoner W3917 barked, "you am what? Call or fold!"

Prisoner H1432 jumped slightly in his chair, turned away from the television, looked at Prisoner W3917's nicotine chips, and folded a full house before looking back at the screen. It wasn't a good idea to win too much from him at a time.

Prisoner W3917 raked in his pot. Raked being an appropriate verb, since his right hand was rather deformed and half-paralyzed around a large and grotesque scar. He looked up at the television and scowled at the creature he saw. "You like those things?"

"What?"

"Lucarios; riolus, whatever. You're looking a little interested in that mutt."

Prisoner H1432 could see something in Prisoner W3917's eyes. "Oh. No, well. I just haven't seen a pokemon that looked like that; blue fur on a puppy dog."

"Those things aren't dogs. Dogs have a natural sense of hierarchy and respect. See this shit?" Prisoner W3917 brandished his right hand. "That's what happens when one of those puppy dogs gets big and thinks it's the man of the house."

Another inmate sat at the table with a handful of smokes. "Yo, deal me in."

Prisoner H1432 glanced back at the screen, which had moved on to a commercial break. Alice was once again as absent from his life as she was before she appeared on the recreation room's television, yet somehow the void she left now seemed larger. He pushed a couple smokes in as an ante and waited for his cards. He glanced across to the dealer. Prisoner W3917 still had that look in his eyes.



Joe picked up a crate containing two empty bowls as he entered his home. His father was on his love-seat staring blankly at the television over a bottle of imported bourbon and an empty tumbler on the coffee table. Burner made a bee-line to the pokemon room to discard his costume.

"We're back."

James did not so much look toward his son as let his head roll in his direction. "Have fun?"

"Yeah, got a lot of candy and Grace was on T.V. Did you see?"

James had not really noticed that he at some point turned the television on again. "I guess I missed that. I was thinking about some things." He poured himself a little more.

"I guess I'll just get the make-up off of Grace and go to bed."

"Sounds good."



Standing in the tub, Grace twitched and moaned briefly as Joe's hands crossed her temples. He felt from her a spark of psychic sensation, un-directed and accidental, as though she had been shocked for a moment.

"There, you did it again."

Grace glanced back at him, over her shoulder. "Yes, because you did it again."

"I'm sorry, but this crap isn't washing out like it said it would." According to its labeling, the costume dye Joe used on Grace's hair should would rinse out with two or three doses of shampoo. This was round five, and her blue hair was still showing numerous streaks of purple.

"Don't be sorry. I think I like when you do that."

Joe squeezed a little more shampoo onto his palm and lathered it up. "You didn't like it the first few times I bumped them." He reached beneath the longer parts of her hair, beneath her antennae and across three small nubs on each side of her face. As he brushed them, she twitched again, but whined instead of moaned. Joe recoiled a bit as she projected her emotion briefly. "Ow! What is with those things?"

Her eyes watering, Grace telekinetically brought the massaging shower head within reach and sprayed both sides of her head. "Here, rinse the shampoo off your hands and do it."

Joe complied. He started with gentle touches, but soon felt a foreign urge suggesting he trace small circles around her gills.

With a slowly-widening grin, she began to hum a low tone and leaned back toward Joe until she began to lose her balance, half slipping and catching herself with reflexive levitation at the cost of dropping the shower head into the basin. Righting herself, she turned to face Joe, placed her palms on his temples and stole his first real kiss.

"Grace! Why did you--" Joe paused as he realized that he knew why. "I don't know if it's okay for us to do that. I mean, you're a--"

"Joe." She froze him with her green-eyed stare. "There's an expression, that things happen the way they do for a reason. Do you believe that's true?"

"I guess so."

Grace smiled and turned away from Joe, handing him the shower head. "Watch. I'd bet the dye will wash out this time."

One wash and rinse later, each strand of Grace's hair was of a single cyan hue.

Joe disrobed and showered himself briefly while Grace, kneeling on the counter before the mirror, dried her hair and combed it out. She sensed a presence nearby, and focused to send a telepathic message.

"My mother was willing to put my life in his hands; why won't you trust me to hold them?"

An eavesdropper on the other side of the door allowed loose ice cubes sloshing against a glass tumbler's wall be his only response as he sulked away.

Inside Joe's room, Grace was already making herself comfortable beneath Joe's covers as he entered to dress for bed. "Uh, you know, you're supposed to sleep in the other room."

Grace would have arched an eyebrow if she had any as she glowered at him.

"I know you like sleeping in my bed with me, and I like sleeping by you, too. But, Dad doesn't like it and even if you're sure we'll get away with it, I don't like breaking the rules. I am supposed to be proving I can handle more responsibility by keeping pokemon. I don't want him to change his mind."

Grace stood upon his bed and beckoned him near. She placed her hands on his temples and asked him to do the same to hers. Joe felt a confusing and noisy sensation as she synchronized with him for a moment. She broke the connection with a quick kiss. "I'll see you in the morning. Dream about me."

"Uh--" Before he could respond, she teleported away. Joe turned off his light and climbed into bed. Rubbing his arm across the spot she laid upon a moment before, the warmth he felt made him second-guess his ordering her to sleep in the pokemon room.

As he lost consciousness, a red necklace surrounded by purple fog seeped through his door. Above it, a pair of red and amber eyes, and a devious smirk. "Yes, do dream about her. I'm hungry," whispered Marianne, as she hovered in wait.



Petty Officer Rainier stared out over the ocean, as the sky's darkness rolled in from the East, blackening the blood red hue that surrounded a setting sun in the West.

Behind him at a short distance, he heard a young man's voice. "That's Rainier over there." "Does it matter?" "Yes, Sir, I didn't mean--." "You hired me to do a job and I'm doing it even if it inconveniences you." "Make it fast, Sir, you're already sure to be late."

The older man's voice was indistinct during that conversation until the very end, when he turned to face the incidental eavesdropper's direction. "They will wait for me."

Simon Well stood beside James and offered a platitude. "The loss of two friends in one day is much to bear. I can't change the outcome of today's operation, but I would like to mitigate it somewhat." Mr. Well held a pokeball before James' face, the invasion of his personal space being taken as an insult.

"What's this?"

"A floatzel. One that can benefit from the care of a trainer who is experienced with its species. I know that it can't replace the one you lost, but--"

"That's right! It can't replace Nelson. Why are you acting as if it could; do I look like some kid, you can just pat on the head and say you'll get me another one?"

Mr. Well smiled for a moment. It was a morbid smile. Then, he laughed. It was a terrible laugh. James' expression turned to one of disgust.

"I know what you're feeling. You're conflicted. You wish you could go back and put him back in his ball so he would be alive right now. You wish that, even though you know that if your genie snapped his fingers, three men would have died today instead of one man and an animal."

James lit up a cigarette and said nothing.

"Listen to me. Your pokemon made a decision, you trusted him to make it, and two men will see that sun rise again tomorrow because of that. Your floatzel did not die in vain, like--like some pokemon do." Mr. Well held the ball up again.

James looked beyond the ball and the man who held it, and saw Skipper in the distance, giving him an instructive nod.

"Anything for you, Mister Well." James accepted the ball with a loose grip.

Mr. Well noted the sarcasm in James' voice and aimed to return it. "Have a nice day, and don't smoke. It's bad for your health." Accompanied by his aide, Simon departed to attend to his more-typical business matters.

Captain Biltmore approached James. "I've arranged some leave for everyone involved. Don't kick yourself for putting him in the water. I know of a Mrs. Ramirez and a Mrs. Marriott who won't be receiving letters in the mail with my signature at the bottom telling them about how their sons died."

James pulled a long drag on his cigarette. "When I let him out, I told him he was going for a swim, and his eyes lit up like when we were kids. I know what he thought. I always promised him when my time was up and I got out of this uniform, we'd get a place with a pool so he could swim every day. Every time I let him out of his ball, he'd look around eagerly for a second to see if he was released inside his new home. Every time I put him back in, I repeated my promise. I felt like that guy from that book they make you read in school, telling his idiot pal about how they'd get a place to farm and raise rabbits. In the end, George didn't come through, either."

James extracted one last puff from his cigarette. As its smoke cleared, James noticed a single small cloud in the sky near the western horizon, glowing bright with the final rays of a submerged sun.



A red necklace, glowing eerily with freshly-harvested energy, seeped through James' bedroom door. Shining eyes above it looked him over. "That's a big one," Marianne thought, "but I bet I can take it all."



An interesting fact about zombies is that, despite having a thoroughly degraded sensory system, they possess an uncanny ability to shamble about without colliding with each other or typical objects that surround them. While legend holds that zombification is induced either by practical means such as voodoo magic--should one find that to be truly practical--or by supernatural means that creatively give an excuse for infected or deceased bodies to become whipped up into a brain-eating frenzy, a less dramatic technique can induce a zombie-like state without risk of overdose or having ones entrails soon be ripped out by the test subject. Allowing a pokemon that knows the dream-eater technique to gorge itself freely upon the subconsciousness of someone deeply asleep, preferably someone who does not typically enjoy lucid dreams which would allow a means of escape, will leave that person to awaken feeling so emotionally and mentally drained that they will do little after rising but stagger about and moan incoherently until at least a half-hour passes and two cups of black coffee begin to metabolize.

James, Joe, Grace, and Burner wandered around the kitchen with their hands rubbing eyes and foreheads, stumbling clumsily in a macabre ballet of cereal bowls, slices of bread, and pre-sliced meats. None present had the energy to deal with anything that was neither ready-to-eat nor could be prepared with eyes half-closed.

Seated at the table, Joe opted for a sugary candy-flavored cereal. Grace started with just lemonade, but soon took a spoon of her own and started stealing from Joe's bowl. Burner's breakfast was quite distinct, a whole-grain cereal awash in plain water turned brine with a generous helping of table salt.

James, standing by the island, broke the silence by uttering the first intelligible syllable of the morning. "Who took my food?"

Joe and his pokemon looked at James quizzically, but knew not what he was talking about or why.

"My sandwich. I turned to get cheese, I turn back, now I don't have a sandwich." He gestured at the bare plate before him, clean except for tell-tale bread crumbs.

"Wasn't me, Dad."

Grace tilted her head and shrugged, while psychically pushing the chunks of cereal in Joe's bowl into a cluster so the two of them could scoop more efficiently.

Burner held up his bowl and poured its remainder into his opened beak.

James idly drummed the island's counter with his fingertips. "I guess I'll try again." He laid bread upon his plate, and followed it with ham. He turned to the refrigerator as though he needed cheese, despite still having two slice singles nearby.

A wide purple mouth below bright striking eyes quickly breached the surface of the island and nabbed the second sandwich, pulling it downward through the plate. James turned about to catch the thief, but barely glimpsed a few trailing strands of violet fog.

"Joe, how many pokemon do you have?"

An obviously-loaded question was cause for concern. Joe hoped to play it safe. "Two?"

"Is that right? Since I'm not getting anywhere with this, I'm going to pick up some fast food."

James shoved his wallet and keys into his shorts pocket, put on a pair of sandals, and departed. A moment after James left, the phone rang. Joe did not bother to answer it, leaving it to the machine.

"Hey, Joe; we're making it a park day. I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. Come on if you want to train."

Burner's eyes fixated on Joe, who was pouring himself some more cereal since Grace ate much of his first bowl. "I don't feel like going to the park today, but if you catch Percy on his way out, you can go with him."

Burner gave Joe a quick hug and headed toward the front door. Grace trailed behind him, but did not evade Joe's notice.

"Hey, you want to go to the park, too?"

She turned about and hovered, crossing her arms. "I want to spend today with you. But, I also want to develop my skills, and since you don't seem to, I have to choose."

"It's not that I don't want you to get stronger. I do, but--" Joe slipped from his chair and approached her. "I never thought I would have a pokemon; at least, not one like you."

"Is that bad?"

"That's not what I mean. It's like you're trying to take us somewhere, and I don't know enough about pokemon to know where that is, exactly."

Grace extended her arms to Joe and felt his thoughts for a moment. "I guess I'll give you a little time to think about it. But, just a little." She vanished with a flash, and seconds later drifted through the living room from the pokemon's room, wearing an everstone pendant. "I'll see you later, Joe."

Joe had no chance to think about much, as the moment Grace departed, a cool sensation behind him caused him to turn and find himself being stared down by a ghost.

"Your house is a lot nicer than what's left of my old one, so I'm moving in here. If you want me out, get me a dusk stone and I'll think about it. Until then, consider yourself haunted." Marianne drifted up through the ceiling, but re-appeared a moment later, upside down. "Oh, and if you try to do something to me, the psychic gets it. I'm saving by best shadow-ball just for her."

Joe sighed. "And then, there were three."