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She wasn't sure what got her— the fall, the Kartana probably sneaking up on her from behind, or the Buzzswole downstairs probably finishing off her cute little Probopass. She didn't remember hitting the pavement, so that was a good sign.

The answer sat before her like a lump of ore, baby blue eyes closed, mustache still. "Poor, sweet Arran," Bergamot said, shaking her head 'sadly'. "What cruel world would do this to such a perfect Pokemon?" She'd have to swear revenge on Buzzswole when she was back somewhere with a proper audience, but for now, she had a Pokemon to heal.

Easier said than done. When not magnetized and floating above the ground, the Probopass was heavy. "Heeef," Bergamot gasped, putting her shoulder into it. The blue stone ground against shattered concrete as they inched forward. Just a... little... closer...

Needless to say, she was gone from the quest a bit longer than expected.

Server time: 17:30. The sky was just getting dark, but the Giant Shrine— now the Thunderfall Shrine— shone bright as a beacon. Mirrored sides that had once reflected slices of yellow moor and stormy skies flickered with blue-white electricity, far more here than it ever had at the Steppes. Perhaps it was from its stint flying around in the sky recharging with Zapdos. Perhaps there was something else about this place that was affecting it.

Morgana found it hard to look at directly. The sparks were bright as a welding iron, and the closer she came, the more the shrine seemed to react. She tried on a pair of broken sunglasses she'd found in an abandoned storefront, letting the tinted glass dull the harsh light. One of the lenses fell out immediately, plonking hollowly on the cracked asphalt underfoot. She sighed and put the frames back in her pocket. Weren't there any modern conveniences salvageable in this place, or did she have to craft everything herself?

"Blind trust then, I suppose?" she said, then closed her eyes. She reached out and touched the shrine. "Let's see if this goes how it used to."

“Well, I don’t know what fuintim o youtg warer is, but I simply have to have it,” said Morgana.

She had been gathering root beer barrels in the Western District as part of a belated Halloween minigame when the mysterious trade request went out. In excitement, Bergamot dropped her barrel, which splashed and fizzed on the dusty road. “I’m fascinated. Look, Guillotine! It must be a grand riddle. A cipher, even!”

<I think it’s just a typo,> said Guillotine Flatflipper. The Piplup– and all her Pokemon, in fact– seemed able to see the HUD in some form, which was no surprise given the apparent level of technology in this setting. Still, there were limits. They could certainly see Global Chat screens, and even the map. Bring up ‘user settings,’ however, and their attention seemed to suddenly wander.

Morgana wondered if the real world played similar tricks with misdirection.

She closed out of her UI with the custom ‘ricocheting bullet’ sound effect she’d set and typed in the coordinates for the newly-opened Route 8. She’d missed the Zapdos Opening event, so she hadn’t actually been there yet, but she’d played the demo at UNOVRCon and felt she had a strong idea of what to expect.

She was wrong.

The demo she’d played had been lively and vibrant. The air had buzzed with insect life; the moss on the city streets had crawled with ambient grass-types. The city had felt reclaimed, not abandoned.

A profound sense of yawning emptiness filled her senses. Wind, rushing through grates. Light, scattered and subdued. The sweet smell of root beer was gone, replaced with rust. It smelled like a place you were not supposed to be.

“You’re that Onix player!” Bergamot pointed accusingly at a small boy she could see on the other side of the lab. Or perhaps ‘gleefully’ was more accurate. She advanced on Saint like a bride on a deadline, blue skirts sweeping the steel. “How did you get so miniscule? Why, I could even catch you in my net.”

To demonstrate, she popped it out of her inventory and swung it energetically at the child (?) the same way you kill flies with a flyswatter. With extreme elasticity. Whoo-PAH!