"All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity." -Nietzsche
-Flash Back-
A strange feeling overtook us as Kirlia and I ventured into the forest. An unnerving darkness grew at the periphery of our sight, slowly choking out light from the stars above. My Pokenav navigation warned me of signal loss soon after that, and it felt like something was watching us.
My empathic bond with Kirlia spiked with cold dread as I realized that we could no longer teleport to safety. I searched the canopy for any signs of danger but found nothing.
My instincts were telling me to run away, but it was already too late when I turned around. The forest around us seemed to have transformed, making it hard to tell which way we had come from. Panic set in as I came to the realization that we were stuck with no way to call for help.
Following Standard operating procedure, I reach into a jacket pocket to take out a persim berry and take a bite to check myself for mental distortions. Nothing in the scenery changes, so I give Kirlia a mental command to start using 'calm mind' to prepare us for an ambush that I can feel must be coming. Our bond allows me to experience a secondhand serenity from the empowering move, and I use this fact to center my thoughts.
In one hand, I pull out my serrated hunting knife from its holster at my hip, and with the other, I brandish the Pokémon Ranger's signature capture styler, ready to deploy at a moment's notice.
Nothing happens for a long time. Kirlia and I feel the predatory presence of something moving in the dark watching – no stalking us, just waiting for us to turn our backs. Waiting for a perfect moment to strike.
Once fully powered by 'calm mind,' I have Kirlia fill the air with a burst of psychic force, causing a momentary 'shock-wave' to propagate in an expanding sphere around us. This proves to be a wise decision as a distortion not unlike a heat shimmer appears close by. My gaze snaps in its direction, the nearly invisible blur dashing forward with horrifying speed, kicking up leaves in its wake as it sprints for a decisive quick kill.
Kirlia interposed himself, tanking a deadly red claw swipe to the face. The unknown dark-type's illusions collapse when Kirlia retaliates with a whirlwind of sharpened branches directed by our telekinesis.
With the target's illusion shattered and distracted by pain, I launch the capture styler with my off hand, beginning the capture sequence while at the same time returning Kirlia to stasis before heavy blood loss can set in from the head wound.
Movement in the underbrush to my left snaps my attention away from the temporarily dazed predatory Pokémon in front of me.
I catch sight of what must be two offspring of the Pokémon before me, and they watch with wide-eyed fear. Half-starved looking and likely not even a year old.
The capture styler completes its first revolutions in fractions of a second, beginning to form a bond with the dark type Pokémon. Yet still, the black and red fox regains its bearings, flashing its white fangs at me as it sees me glancing at its offspring. Rage overwhelms the nascent bond between us; it lunges for my throat.
Before I can react, a terrible pressure sinks into my neck, and then-
-Crunch-
I jolt awake and nearly vomit as the memory of blood in my mouth permeates my mind. I can feel my heart racing uncontrollably within my chest as I struggle to catch my breath. My eyes dart frantically around my enclosure, searching for something. Finally, I catch sight of my neon-green irises reflecting back at me from the reinforced security window.
After staring at my reflection for a short time, my heart returns to its normal resting pace as the invasive memory fades back into the background. My breathing slows down as I relax back down into my comfortable, oval-shaped doggy bed.
The fresh memory burns in the back of my mind, branding itself into my consciousness. And like so many other memories, this one brings a fresh wave of guilt. Dropping my head onto the pads of my paws, I huff and carefully rub the sleep from my eyes.
Dustin had lived so many more years than me, and his memories often threatened to overshadow my own perspective of the world.
Sometimes I don't know if I am Dustin the Ranger, trapped in a new form, or a wild Pokémon with a human consciousness grafted onto me. It's possible that I am neither or both. In the end, it doesn't matter since the outcome is the same.
I am a monster.
I briefly look down at my red claws. I don't know exactly how long I've been here now, but the sharp points of my claws have dulled since I arrived at this underground research institute.
I no longer feel the instinctive urge to sharpen them as my food is now handily provided to me on a daily basis. I also don't enjoy the feeling of scratching everything I touch.
I yawn stretching my jaws almost 120 degrees before stretching the rest of my limbs, my pile of pillows and blankets shifts around me. A satisfying crackling sound echoes through the room as I twist my spine and reluctantly stand up on two legs to begin the day.
My room is relatively plain, with four grey walls, a single security door, and a wide rectangular window connecting to an ample lab space. A single person waits patiently through the window at one of the many lab computers.
During the first few days of my captivity, Professor Juniper created a set of protocols for ensuring my containment. I didn't know precisely what these protocols are per se, but I know one rule required at least one staff member to be present in the observation room at all times.
I thought it was unnecessary since my illusions apparently can't pass through the specialized glass. Even if I made myself invisible on this side of the window, it's unlikely that someone would be foolish enough to open my enclosure and allow me to escape.
I understand why they're cautious since they know how hard it would be to catch me if I ever escaped. However, they fail to realize that I'm just as cautious of myself as they are. I don't trust myself to not act on some instinct and accidentally hurt someone.
In addition to my own fears, I have no desire to escape because I actually have a clear sense of purpose in this facility. I can help humanity understand sapience and participate in groundbreaking experiments. Even though I sometimes fantasize about what it would be like to escape, I don't actually know what I would do with said freedom. At least here, I am certain that my contributions are valued, and I can take some pride in it.
The researcher currently sitting in the observation lab is a familiar face to me. This man had taken a great interest in my case early on, and I often found him volunteering to supervise my enclosure when no one else was available.
I'd talked to him so often now that I think he could write my biography if he wanted to.
I wave at my caretaker to catch his attention, and as I do, I feel grateful as he smiles back at me. He has been a reliable source of support during my time here. He treats me with the care and attention that one would expect to receive as a long-term hospital patient rather than as a potentially dangerous lab specimen.
I can only imagine the amount of stress and pressure he must be under, considering he must be basically in charge of my mental health. Without his kindness, I'm sure I'd be halfway feral by now just from the stress of being confined for so long.
"Your heart rate was pretty high there, Echo. Are you doing all right, or would you like me to call in the physician early today?" Richard greets me using my preferred nickname. Diverting his attention away from his PC, he looks me over with a concerned gaze.
"No, I'm fine for now, Rich. It was just a nightmare from the first night. The one where Dustin and I met." I reply tiredly to the scientist.
Richard didn't so much as flinch at my inhumanly deep voice. I'd gotten a lot better at modulating it, but my vocal cords were not designed for speech in the same ways humans were. Unfortunately, this made building lasting relationships with the other staff members assigned to my case difficult.
All my attempts to form closer relationships with the other researchers had often backfired on me in one way or another.
The most memorable of which was the time I attempted to use illusions to look human. I remembered that appearances heavily influence human psychology. So, I stupidly tried to appear human to gain some empathy points. The problem was that my illusions, more often than not, triggered something called the 'uncanny valley' effect.
This meant that something slightly off about my appearance would make people feel uneasy around me.
According to some theories, the uncanny valley effect is believed to be an evolutionary adaptation for humans to help avoid things that look like them but are not, in fact, human.
My kind often used illusions and mimicry to get close to our prey, so the thought that my species might have played a role in this adaptation is not a pleasant one. The selective pressure needed for that kind of adaptation to become almost universal in a population is highly disturbing to contemplate.
Richard interrupts my morning musings by urging me to inquire about the experiments we had conducted the previous day. One of the many things I admire about Rich was his willingness to share the lab's research with me, even if what he shared is a watered-down overview.
"Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts there for a moment. So, did Silph provide any updates regarding the most recent Pokeball tests? I am dying to know why they keep failing on me," I ask Richard.
"We received some fascinating results from Silph just this morning in fact!" Richard replied with a grin as he brought one of his secondary swiveling screens towards me, allowing me to view it through the reinforced observation window.
"They told me that your unique aura signature is the root cause of the malfunctions. As you may already know, modern Pokeball technology relies heavily on a trainer's aura to power the Pokeball and to create a bond with the target Pokémon." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the simplistic explanation Richard is giving me instead of the actual lab results, but I continue to listen.
He goes on to explain that the Pokémon League also uses the unique signature of the trainer's aura to register which specific Pokémon belong to each trainer while showing me relevant pictures and articles.
"If a Pokeball is used on someone else's Pokémon, the ball will fail because it's unable to establish an aura bond to a Pokémon that already has one. This is why such specialized machines are required for simple Pokémon trades. The issue with Pokeballs for you is that you register as being bonded to a human. Because you still somehow produce Dustin's unique aura signature, the Pokeballs think you are already captured." Richard begins while leaning back in his swivel chair
"Give us a few more weeks to modify one of Dustin's registered Pokeballs, and we will get you inside one, no problem. You also won't have to worry about anyone dominating your will like a normal wild capture because of Dustin's aura's influence."
"Hmm, that makes sense; let me know when you've got a working prototype then, you know how long I've been waiting to see what it's like inside one of those. On a similar note, are you finally allowed to tell me why I'm able to think and reason like a human? I assume it has something to do with Dustin's aura, but I don't know if you've confirmed exactly how it happened." I ask
"The capture styler definitely influenced the reaction that occurred." Richard begins while fiddling with a pen whose ink wouldn't write on the paper he had off to the side. "The inherited memories you experienced are likely a byproduct of the capture styler's aura impulse drive and a reaction to the aura imprinting proclivities apparent in your linage." Richard says while managing to draw a complicated set of diagrams on the paper next to him that might be a genealogy tree of some kind.
"A cross-species hybridization factor might also have occurred. You display some characteristics indicative of two distinct Pokémon species interbreeding." Upon realizing how lost I was at his explanation, the researcher stumbles for a moment. Nervously clearing his throat and pushing his diagram aside, he continues.
"Ah, what I mean to say is that your blood work shows evidence of Lucario DNA in your ancestry. It's even likely that your sire was a Lucario. Lucario, as a species, have a strong affinity to human aura bonds, and you likely inherited this trait. We believe that absorbing Dustin's aura under the influence of the capture styler's bond induced a permanent alteration in your own aura not too dissimilar to a capture bond."
"That brings up another question, then. Is there some aura memory link I've never heard about? You seem confident that the memories are because of Dustin's aura specifically." I ask curiously.
"Actually, yes, have you ever heard of the Kanto researcher by the name of Dr Fuji?" Richard replies with an excitement only present in those who work at top-secret research centers.
"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that name. He some sort of aura researcher?" I respond with a hint of amusement at my companion's enthusiasm. Moving closer, I sit by the window and listen attentively, dragging a blanket around my shoulders to keep warm as I prepare for his inevitable monologue.
"He is a geneticist by profession, but he has made remarkable discoveries regarding the connection between memory, DNA, and aura in humans. He has demonstrated that aura can be used to store and retrieve memories or genetic instructions in cases where either has become damaged."
"I'd heard that the laws on genetics research in Kanto were lax, especially given the famous Nurse Joy and Officer Jenny case, But I'm still surprised that the ethics committees of that region allowed research into that kind of thing."
"There are actually many beneficial applications that you might not initially imagine. For example, Dr. Fuji conducted human trials focusing on Alzheimer's treatments. Through his research, patients were able to regain lost memories via cloned cell injections and thus maintained a healthy mental state for much longer than they otherwise would have." Richard excitedly gestures before continuing.
"During his research, he demonstrated that aura could be used for memory preservation and restoration. Unfortunately, his research funding was cut short when religious groups protested against what they called 'blasphemous tampering of human souls'. Most mainstream religions believe that aura is a sacred bridge connecting the body and soul, and Dr. Fuji's discoveries only seemed to reinforce this ideology." Richard gives a wistful sign before continuing.
"As a result, any research in the field is highly scrutinized nowadays. It's a shame that Dr. Fuji retired after his daughter's death. He was probably one of the greatest aura scientists of our time and would have had a field day with your case." Richard trails off while staring off into space.
"Do you think those religious groups have a point? What does it even mean that I have what is essentially a bridge to Dustin's soul trapped within me?" I hesitantly ask.
Richard looks into my eyes, contemplating his response before shrugging.
"I can't say for sure, Echo. I'm not much of a spiritual expert, and I don't really know enough about theoretical aura physics to confidently say one way or another. Why do you ask?" Richard replies somberly.
"I just feel disgusted with myself each time I learn something new about my nature," I sigh before continuing. "It's already difficult enough to accept that I killed a ranger, Richard, but it's even worse to think that I may have stolen what is essentially a piece of his soul," I reply quietly, closing my eyes and leaning against the viewing window.
Our silent contemplations are interrupted by the sound of the observation room's door ringing twice. Richard presses a button on his control panel, and another researcher and his assistants enter the observation room from the hallway.
"Good morning, Richard! How is our favorite test subject doing today? Oh, Echo, you're up early! Good morning to you too!" The heavily mustached researcher greets us with a big smile.
This researcher was a recent addition to my case, a neurological scientist recruited by Professor Juniper specifically to study me. He had a boisterous and honest personality that made disliking him very difficult.
In a playful response to his remark about calling me his 'favorite test subject', I show him my middle claw. At the same time, I create an illusion around my digit, engulfing it in a mushroom cloud explosion just for dramatic effect.
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"Echo is doing as well as can be expected, Carter, but I would prefer if you didn't refer to him as a 'test subject' in front of him," Richard says with a sigh of exasperation.
"It's fine, Rich. You know, I don't really mind. Please tell me you guys are finally going to let me review those new Pokechow blocks like I've been requesting?" I beg jokingly. An inhumanly wide smile stretching across my face.
"Ha ha! Unfortunately, we are not allowed to test that yet. The research board has sadly not given us the approval, but I will bring it up at next week's meeting. Instead, today, we want you to experiment with some music!" Carter says while leading his interns into the observation room.
"I don't want to compromise the double-blinding of the test, but could you please clarify why I am being asked to work with music? Dustin was never musically inclined, so I'm not sure what we intend to accomplish here." I ask, a bit perplexed.
"That's exactly why we want to test it out! From our records, Dustin was noted as being entirely tone-deaf, and we want to scan your brain while you play around with some soundboards." Carter begins while helping his assistants move boxes of supplies from the outer corridor.
"We have a lot of data on what areas of the brain activate in humans when listening to music, but not many Pokémon are suitable for this kind of test. We want to see if your brain patterns will mimic human electrical signals or if something else interesting will present itself. It may even provide a key to better understanding the link between the brain-aura connection." Richard says with a smile
"Well, I'm not going to complain. It definitely beats another week of biopsies and blood draws." I grumble good-naturedly
"Yes, the research board thought a change of pace would be appreciated. Now, please make your way to the right-hand corner of the room so we can set the barriers up and get your new toys situated in your enclosure." The boisterous researcher declares in a mock imperialistic demand
I give a sloppy salute back to him with a shake of my head and walk towards the far corner of my room. The pressure sensors on the floor verify my location before the barriers activate. One can never be too careful with a Pokémon that can create illusions.
Carter and his assistants enter my enclosure through the now-unlocked metal door. I can't really blame them for the precautions since not much is known about my species. Well, that and a lot of popular media portrayed Aura Intelligences (AIs) as ticking time bombs waiting to rebel against humanity.
The equipment brought in by the researchers was fascinating, with numerous buttons and dials. However, the brain-scanning helmet resembled something out of a bad science fiction show, with yellow spheres protruding in all directions.
Oh well, the things I do for science.
Music never resonated with Dustin. He couldn't find any emotions or value in it. He thought it was just noise. I assumed that I would feel the same way
I was wrong. Dustin's aura within me did not influence whatever sections of the brain that governed musical enjoyment. Music was quickly becoming an irreplaceable beacon of joy. The research project also served as my own form of therapy where I could funnel my thoughts and feelings into something constructive. More importantly, it served as an outlet for my boredom when there was downtime between other less fun tests.
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A few days later, while playing with a piano synthesizer, the red emergency lights suddenly turned on, and I snapped to attention, feeling threatened by the unfamiliar sights and sounds.
"Richard, what's-" I try asking before my words are interrupted by a digital voice coming through the facility's loudspeakers.
"Containment breach level 1. Sector 8 quarantine is in effect. Please standby for further instructions."
"That doesn't sound good. Aren't we in sector 8?" I muttered worriedly.
"Shit. Hold on, let me see if there are any more details in the emergency notifications directory. I don't know of anything dangerous enough in this sector to warrant a quarantine lockdown…well, other than you, I suppose. You'd tell me if you had escaped, right?" Richard jokes while anxiously typing at his keyboard.
"Of course, I wouldn't tell you, Rich. I wouldn't want to implicate you as my accomplice and jeopardize your career just on my behalf." I say half-jokingly
Whatever is going on makes Richard more afraid than I realize because he doesn't even respond to my words.
"Sector 8 containment breached. Code: purple aurora is in effect. Repeat, code purple aurora is in effect." The voice calls throughout the facility speakers
"Oh shit. Okay, breathe. You've trained for this kind of thing." Richard talks himself through what looks to be a mild near-panic
"Rich, could you please explain what purple aurora means?" I ask, speaking slowly so as not to overwhelm my panicking minder.
"It means there's a powerful ghost type that is loose, and it's killed at least one of the staff already. From what I'm reading, a Haunter was transferred on-site but broke containment when it spontaneously evolved into a fucking Gangar." Richard says in horror
"That's..not good. Can you access the PC to retrieve a Psychic-type from the lab's pool of Pokémon?" I quickly ask while trying to devise a plan to help my friend from inside my cage.
"Can't. Access just got locked to this branch of the network. Someone attempted to withdraw several high-profile Pokémon from the restricted servers." Richard rapidly types on his PC for a few manic seconds before speaking again.
"I think there is something going on in the other sectors because upper management just locked the whole server down. I can't see anything that's going on outside this sector anymore. This might be some kind of organized attack on the facility. Security teams should be inbound, but I don't know anything for sure anymore." He says while running a hand through his hair and bouncing his leg nervously
"What about my door? Do you have a way to let me out? I may not be trained for battle, but I could probably hold back a Gengar long enough for help to arrive." I ask carefully
"I would if I could, but staff like me are never given direct access codes to the enclosures—part of the security measures. I'm afraid you are stuck in there." Richard replies rapidly before pushing himself out of his seat and running to a nearby cabinet at the back of the room. Opening it, I see an extensive array of emergency supplies arrayed before him. With practiced hands, Richard takes a can of Max Repel off the top shelf and sprays himself liberally with the foul substance.
I pace back and forth as my fight-or-flight instincts war with each other uselessly. Richard somehow tracks the ghosts' progress through the base and updates me on its movements. According to him, the ghost is jumping from room to room, seemingly unaffected by walls or doors in its path.
I am trapped in my cage, feeling helpless, while my friend gradually loses his composure as he realizes that help will not arrive in time. As the powerful ghost type approaches us, a chill fills the air, and Richard's breathing becomes quick with panic. I can see his breaths steaming into the air as the chill deepens to dangerous levels.
We stopped breathing and listened intently for any warning. Suddenly, something dark crawled under the doorframe like a possessed oil spill, emerging into the room in the span of a blink. There was no time to react.
Spectral hands emerged from the shadow, lifting Richard off the ground and tightly gripping him. After squeezing him for a moment, I watched in horror as red life energy drained out of Richard's body like blood being wrung from a sponge.
The feral Gengar then opens its grotesque mouth, greedily consuming Richard's life force drop by terrible drop. Despite my enraged growling, the creature remains unfazed by my proximity. Instead, it crushes my friend even harder as if to taunt me, causing his bones to crack loudly under the pressure and forcing a gasp of pain from Richard.
I slam my blunt claws against the window in desperation, but it has no effect. The monster grins wider at my futile attacks, and I feel my rage boiling over.
As I stare at this vile excuse of a ghost Pokemon, my instincts to hunt it grow louder and louder, urging me to attack the threat. For once, my human mind aligns with my instinctive desires, and I feel inspiration take shape in my mind.
All I needed is a small opening in the security window, and I could put an end to this.
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, I instinctively scrape my claws against each other at a precise angle, honing the blunt tips into razor-sharp points within seconds. As I do so, I feel a burst of energy that sharpens my senses, allowing me to see the tiniest of flaws in the reinforced shatterproof glass and giving me a target to aim for.
I dash towards the back wall of my enclosure, giving myself enough space to build up momentum. I concentrate on the precise spot I have to strike for my strategy to succeed. With all my leg power, I push myself off the wall and race towards the window on all fours. Just before I hit the window, I leap up and swing my right claw with all my force.
The window barely flexes as I hit, but the Gengar stops sneering when it sees me smile triumphantly. When I remove my claw from the window a tiny puncture in the glass is revealed.
Condensed darkness flows from me and through the small hole in the window, creating a rainbow-like pattern with an oily prismatic sheen to it. An illusionary ball rises from the pool of dark energy and coalesces behind the Gengar and Richard. The black sphere of dark energy ignites into a blazing imitation of the sun with a flick of my will.
As planned, the dark star stretches the Gengar's shadow into my cell. With dark-type energy dripping from my fangs, I tear into the shadow with righteous fury.
I yank both the Gengar and Richard into my enclosure with supernaturally enforced strength. As the light from my dark star fades away, I grin with vicious intensity. Illusory darkness spills out from me, cloaking me and the room in darkness. My green eyes shine in the dark, and my prey quickly finds itself truly trapped in my domain.
The Gengar's smile turns into a snarl as it looks around desperately. I use a quick dark slash to extricate its shadowy hold from Richard's now unconscious body. Protective illusions fold around him, hiding his presence as best I can while laying his body in the far corner of the room, away from the violence I was about to unleash.
Instead of fighting me head-on, my prey makes the mistake of trying to escape by attempting to phase through the window. It quickly learns that escape is no longer an option.
"No, you don't!" I roar angrily
I catch its lower torso with my teeth as an instinctive 'pursuit' attack pours out of me, nearly tearing the Gengar in half as I fling it back into the center of the room.
It uses 'spite' in retaliation, but the lethargy from the attack only adds kindling to my burning fury.
Methodically, I dash in and out of range tearing chunks out of its ghostly hide with dark energy-wreathed fangs and claws. Its ethereal flesh dissolves on my tongue like cotton candy, but the sickeningly sweet taste jolts my thoughts into a mild panic.
My human mind reminds me that consuming Gengar ectoplasm could be extremely harmful if I'm not careful. Hopefully, the rescue teams will arrive in time to provide me with an antidote.
As the numerous wounds on its body increase, the Gengar becomes more desperate as it realizes the gravity of the situation. With frantic fervor, its eyes start to glow a deep shade of red, and an ethereal nail appears above its face, pointing downwards towards its own forehead.
Upon seeing the move, I immediately recognize it as a 'curse' attack. In the moment before the nail strikes downward, I realize that if the curse's radius is large enough to hit Richard, it would likely kill him on the spot.
As cursed energy surges throughout the room, I throw myself backward to shield Richards's body with my own. The pain is excruciating. My muscles feel like they're falling off my bones. Blood drips from my nose and ears, and my thoughts become foggy from the continuous pulsing pain.
The Gengar laughs at my prone form, but its bleeding forehead shows the backlash of its own curse attack. I snap when I hear its taunts; vengeful dark energy circulates within me, but my limbs still refuse to obey me.
I couldn't move, so Instead, I roared at the Gengar. My roar, infused with dark energy, carried itself along the sound waves, reverberating through the small room with immense power. The shockwaves of my 'dark pulse' infused roar rips the Gengar into ectoplasmic chunks. At the same time, the observation room's already compromised window develops spiderwebbing cracks.
My defiant roar fades into a fit of coughs as the curse takes its final toll on my body. I drop to the floor beside Richard, collapsing onto the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Richard awakens with a moan of pain a few moments later as I soundlessly writhe in pain on the ground.
Bleary-eyed, he takes in his surroundings before speaking. "How did I get in here? Echo, is that you?" he states weakly as he pulls himself into a half-sitting position next to me.
"Hey Rich, ya it's me… I solved the ghost problem you were having… No need to thank me." I gasp out between fits of pain.
He grimaces when he sees the cracked glass and the purple pile of ectoplasm that used to be a Gengar.
"Yes, I can see that. Are you going to be okay? You don't look good," he says while unsteadily getting up to his feet.
"I don't know. I got hit with a curse at the end there, and it's done a number on me. Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any antidote or full restore on you by any chance, would you? I took a few bites out of lumpy over there, and I'm not sure it's agreeing with me." I say while curling up into a tight ball of pain.
"I do, but Gengar poison shouldn't be deadly to you if you only ingested it. Your liver won't thank you, but you should survive; however, I'm more worried about the 'Curse' damage. Usually, its continuous effects dissipate when the caster dies, but you may still have some internal hemorrhaging if you are still in this much pain." Richard says while slowly hobbling his way over to me on his injured limbs.
As he approaches me, he notices a small pool of my blood pooling around me. Quietly, he swears under his breath before searching in his coat pocket for a spare emergency antidote. He then pulls me from my fetal position and onto my back. My vision blurs due to the blood coming from my eyes, but I still sense that my condition is frightening Rich badly.
It hadn't occurred to me until now, but we were more than just a lab subject and a scientist; we were friends. I just hadn't realized that until now. His lack of fear and obvious concern for my well-being highlighted this fact in my mind.
"Hey, Rich," I groan as he injects the medicine into the crook of my arm.
"What is it, Echo?" He replies with a pain-laced voice
"If I don't survive, can I ask you to do something for me?" I groan
"Echo, stop being dramatic. You'll be fine," he replies while holding back tears. I couldn't tell if he actually believed his own words or if the pain of his own injuries was hitting him.
"If I die, can you have my pelt made into a coat?"
"W-what?" he asks in confusion, which seems to distract him from his pain.
"In the event of my death, I just want you to know that I'm uncomfortable with being buried in the ground or cremated... It just seems like such a waste. Plus, I think a nice red and black fur coat would look great on you." I smile with blood-stained teeth
The poor scientist stares at me with a look of disbelief before letting out a half-chuckle. "I'm not sure about that. Your mangy fur wouldn't make a great coat. Maybe we could make a throw rug out of it, but I'm afraid that's the best I can do," Richard jokes as he cuts a piece of his lab coat off to wipe away the blood from my eyes and mouth.
"I'm hurt by your words, Rich, but if that's the best you can offer, I'll accept it. As long as it's not a shower mat, I won't complain. I hate it when my fur gets wet," I say, slowly losing consciousness to the encroaching darkness. My friend's presence soothes me into a deep sleep.
After a nerve-wracking ten-minute wait, the security team finally manages to secure the sector and gain entry into the observation room. To their astonishment, they discover a research scientist who appears to be on the brink of death, waving at them through a cracked security window. In his lap, he holds a sick-looking dark-type fox Pokémon clinging to its barely breathing form as if his life depended on it.