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The sky around the aircraft was suffused with smoke, the traces of distant wildfires. It reflected a hazy red across the wings of the plane as it coasted to a halt on the tarmac. Chryssa sat still in her seat as the other passengers on the plane leapt into activity, crowding the aisle in a single-file line as they jostled for the exit. Stewardesses rained chipper farewells upon uncaring ears. Thank you for flying United Airlines. Thank you for flying United Airlines. Thank you for-

Chryssa sat patiently, gazing out the window with eyes as gray as ghosts. There was no reason to rush. She'd be the last one off the plane, anyway.

"Are you ready to go, Miss Glasgow?" the voice came from the aisle. Chryssa glanced at the person - they were in the airport's uniform, and they had a wheelchair with them. An aide sent to assist her off the plane. A convenient pawn sent to do her bidding-- or that's what Morgana would think, anyway. For Chryssa, people like this were nothing. NPCs, faceless and pointless, existing only to transport her from one scene to another.

"It's fine- I'll just walk," Chryssa said casually, waving the aide back. She made as if to get up out of the seat, then froze. Her eyes widened and she patted her legs frantically, like someone who'd just lost their keys. "Gasp! Aide, something's wrong! I can't stand up from this chair! It's almost as if... as if..."

"You shouldn't joke about things like that," the aide rebuked her as they lifted her up, light as a doll, and carefully placed her in the chair.

"Twas a meme," declared Chryssa airily, unfazed, then reached down and easily disengaged the safety brake herself. "You shouldn't try to make small talk with me if you're not ready to be shocked and amazed. Oh, don't worry, it's not like I'll be around that long anyway." She rolled down the ramp, perfectly in control, and set off towards the gate.

She wasn't just talking about the airport.

There was something off about Chryssa. She had the look of a fruit which had gone a day too long without being eaten, a sense of subtle wrongness. A bomb whose countdown had hit 0. An audio clip that kept on playing even after its app was closed. A dream that you never quite forgot, even when you woke up; like a stranger lingering just a little too long outside your house, or a childhood memory that couldn't be erased. She felt like an A+ you hadn't earned. She evoked a subtle guilt in the world, as if her very existence was a secret that God would rather leave forgotten.

Now, where is that uncle of mine, Chryssa thought, scanning the heads in the crowd. There-- impossible to miss. Red hair, red beard and all. She would have liked to sneak up on him, but a head-on approach would do for now.

Of everyone in this world, Buzzster Hooperham was the most important to her.

"That big head of yours certainly stands out," the girl said from her seat, tossing him an oversized carry-on bag that clanked and jingled like it was full of skis and windchimes. It probably was - she'd packed it specifically to draw attention to herself and inconvenience as many airport staff as possible. "I was beginning to think you'd never arrive. I'd have to sing on the streets for my dinner."

Her eyes gleamed, as if she thought she might not mind that so much.

"By the way, what do you say we decide today's activities with a little wager? I have a few requests I'd like to make." Her tone implied they were not requests her uncle would like.

ZONE B

Kath Ulu said:

"Fellow Dark Sider… What do YOU think? Do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one?"

“Oho! A trolley problem?”

Morgana swirled a finger in her blue wig like a high school girl talking on the phone. “That’s what this is, right? Well, on principle, I would kill more people if possible. That’s what it means to be one so wicked and evil, such as mwah!”

It was an easy answer. This entire raid was built on an internal conflict of what was more good. Was it more good to spare a life or to prioritize the needs of the many? The whole premise fell apart when you were trying to make the wrong choice.

Or did it?

<It’s evil to kill people, but it’s not evil to save someone! It’s all about intention,> Bergamot’s Glaceon interjected, tail held high. Liquid flowed off his short pelt as if he was underwater, clearly not minding the deluge.

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Starface. You’re supposed to be part of my comedy duo, not my personal Socrates. I don’t need your weak interjections to make my evil talking points look better.”

<Well, I don’t want to be in your comedy duo! I want to be with… this nice lady! The one that you’re dressed like!> The Glaceon wagged his tail, gazing hopefully up at Laguna. <You’re so beautiful and strong, and I feel like I can fight my best with you.>

“What?! How could you tell us apart?! What gave it away…”

<Because only you would try to attack Legendary Pokemon that are trying to help you! This is just like with Moltres! You should leave Zapdos alone.>

“Many people are attacking this Legendary Pokemon,” Bergamot pointed out airily, annoyed that Glaceon had no idea what was going on due to having been A. not prepared beforehand and B. released in the middle of the action completely out of the blue. “Plus, it’s not trying to help us.” Right then, Zapdos threw a bunch of players into the air and they landed on his back nearby Morgana, who stepped away distastefully. “...That doesn’t count. It’s not evil to attack the Raid Boss.”

…Did that mean she shouldn’t be attacking the Raid Boss? Where was the Maximum Evil in this situation, really?

“I need to attack an ally, unprovoked!” Bergamot realized. She eyed Laguna and Kath Ulu appraisingly. “Hmm…”

<NO! Stop it! Stop trying to be evil all the time!>

Fine. If there wasn’t a clearly good or evil path to steer down, Bergamot would choose the most interesting one. What was the most interesting? What would happen if the three legendary birds died? Things would go back to the way they were before the World Events that had unlocked them, she supposed. No Moltres in the tree, no Articuno in the Dream World, no Zapdos on the Steppes.

Boring.

Whereas Professor Ash being dismissed… that was interesting. Bergamot’s eyes gleamed. Would they be a game with no professor? Would new trainers simply spawn into an empty tent and be told to fend for themselves? Would Bunya or Cygnus replace her? Or would they get a new professor, someone more qualified from across the sea who wouldn’t make the same mistakes that Ash had?

There was the matter of Mistra being cleansed, but frankly, Bergamot had been hoping to experience the Corruption Zone for herself. She simply hadn’t had time to make it out there yet, not with all the sneaking about she’d have to do to get across the border without Professor Ash noticing. Siding with Zapdos might buy her time to explore the ‘horror’ area and figure out if she could twist it to her own brand of ‘Morgana’ evil, or whether it was too ‘evil’ evil to be worth salvaging.

“Anyway, use Swift on Zapdos,” she decided finally, making a ‘shoo’ motion with her fingertips. She’d decide more later.

Glaceon glowered at her in the rain. <NO! You can’t be trusted! You might be doing something evil again!> He turned to Laguna earnestly. The soft hum of violins rose in the background as he directed his words to his Dancing partner. <What do you think? Should I attack Zapdos? If you say so, I’ll do it!>

A clap of thunder drowned out Laguna’s exact response, but Morgana saw Starface nod affirmatively. <Okay! Focus on the shrine, got it! I’ll be back!>

The sleek mammal took off running, leaping off the side of Zapdos’s wing into the rainstorm. Rather than falling, he galloped sinuously through the air, utilizing Morgana’s Swimmer effect to its full potential. As he flowed down the golden undersides of Zapdos’s wing towards the shrine, he opened his mouth, firing a volley of spinning, watery stars like liquid shurikens.

Blam blam blam blam blam! They impacted the metallic surface with solid twangs like instrument strings, causing blue sparks and flickers to race across its sides. <We have to keep going,> Starface cried, a surge of energy taking him up and over the other side. <The only way to go is down! Doing nothing helps nobody!>

Morgana stood with her hands on her hips, annoyed beyond belief. How had she become the Socrates?!

Glaceon (Ice/Water) - Sweeper - 250/250 HP

Link to Roll
Core Ability: Recoil
Action: Fast Atk x5 (748 DMG)
Battle Log:
- Took 100 DMG from Strain/Energy Drain
- Took 40 Dmg from Environment
- Buffed +10 last turn, Buffed +10 this turn (Laguna)
- +5 Ask Your Pokemon's Opinion (well, didn't ask)
- +5 Ask Another Player's Opinion / Answer
- System Admin: Healed 158 by Laguna

ZONE B

Chryssa Glasgow was not a gamer.

Chryssa Glasgow was a victim. Fate and circumstance had conspired to twist her into a bedridden princess waiting for someone to rescue her from her father’s manor. She did not even have the dramatic luxury of a terminal diagnosis. She was trapped in this boring, sedentary, lonely existence forever.

The WorldScreen had changed that.

It had given her movement. It had given her agency. Most of all, it had given her intention.

She had never played this game to unlock new Areas, contribute to budding Settlements, or coo over her cute and lovely Pokemon (Probopass). She had never fallen for some illusion of Open World.

Morgana played this game for the people.

If there was no one to see her, did she really exist? If she could not at least pretend some invisible developer code monkey was watching her from out there, adjusting the holes she poked in the matrix, would she still continue?

But as she listened to Professor Ash’s hologram, frowning at the strange phrasing, and then watched Arran and Guillotine go up in smoke (at a literal glance), it clicked.

If Zapdos, a raid boss, could notice her, it made him real.

She could change her hair color, outfit, and cup size. Of course Morgana could change her mind. She barely had an opinion to begin with.

“Turn on Pokemon Speech!” Bergamot uttered, voice suddenly full of conviction. She heard her personal Mini_Codie whir as it quickly entered her User Interface, adjusting her settings. “What was I thinking? I have my own captive audience to annoy. I should be using them!” What was she doing depending on other players or Hydance executives for entertainment?

She had always seen her Pokemon as ‘part of the show’, just props to help illustrate her villainous comedy facade. But they weren’t. Pokemon were people, and people were fun. People laughed, or scoffed, or gave her affirmation. People sent her friend requests or refused to call her Dirty even when she changed her display name. People were rebellious, or obedient, or sometimes villainous as well.

As the Moltres Spirits seared past in laughing tongues of flame, Bergamot sent out Jack the Mudkup. “Jack!”

<Hi, Bergamot!>

“I’m going to sacrifice you to bring Kath Ulu’s Treecko back from the dead!”

<Oh. Sad now.>

“Oh please, I’ll Revive you later. Just get out there and do some voodoo magic!” Bergamot twirled around, enjoying the fresh air on her thighs. Perhaps she should wear sailor uniforms more often.

As Jack went to throw himself resignedly on Treecko’s body she sent out Starface, her famously drippy Glaceon. “Starface, you attack with– oh, boo!” The electricity in the air had already brought the dewy mammal to its knees. She’d forgotten she’d equipped it as a water-type.

<I’m all right,> Starface panted, looking around and getting back to his feet. He did a double-take. <Where are we?! Why do you look like that?>

“Don’t worry about that,” Bergamot sang, spinning around and relishing the dramatic irony of not warning any of her Pokemon they were going into a World Event. “Just use Hail! We’ll turn these boring thunderclouds to something a little more interesting!”

Only Morgana would prefer tennis-ball-sized hailstones to a little static electricity, but here they were. The Glaceon focused, pigtails waving in the wind as Moltres Spirits flooded past in ribbons of rainbow light. G.A.Y, Bergamot thought as the hail began to fall.

She didn’t know what to do or think about Zapdos and the Giant Shrine he claimed was his. Perhaps he was lying. Perhaps she should ask for a deed of sale, or a land title, or another cutscene. Perhaps the idea of you leave it, you lose it was a little too petty for something on this scale.

But she had enough confidence in UNOVR that the game itself would tell her when it was time. When she was ready. When the choice was imperative, irreversible, and utterly irresistible.

She took a deep breath, spotting a familiar Chinese girl-shaped-shape on the platform across the gulf, and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Ohohohohoho! I’ll get you, Sarah Lee! And you owe me, Kath Ulu!”

But the truth was, nobody owed anyone anything. Kindness was a gift. And Morgana, who had always lived in the moment, relished the present.

Mudkip - Support - 0/350 HP

Core Ability: Revive
Action: None
Battle Log:
- Fainted! Kath Ulu's Treecko is Revived with 350 HP!

Glaceon (Ice/Water) - Sweeper - 250/250 HP

Link to Roll
Core Ability: None
Action: Fast Atk x4 (232 DMG)
Battle Log:
- Took 50 DMG from Strain/Energy Drain
- Took 50 Dmg from Environment (Supereffective)
- +5 for QUESTION YOUR ACTIONS
- System Admin: Healed by Laguna for 181, Buff +10

ZONE A > ZONE B

"What do you mean Sarah Lee and Laguna aren't here? They left?"

Morgana stood rooted to the spot, absolutely flabbergasted. She had her blue wig in one hand, her naturally brown hair already bound up and secured beneath a lunchlady hairnet. She'd swapped out her usual long dress for a perky sailor uniform. She had breast pads. She was ready.

"How much did I miss them by?" She stomped her foot, irritated beyond measure, and almost slipped on the icy platform. "What a waste!"

Or maybe it wasn't. With Laguna out of the picture, what was stopping Morgana from completely stealing her identity? Becoming Laguna, so to speak? Usurping a trusted figurehead of the community to serve her own evil, evil agenda?

She'd struck a pose in the middle of the elevator platform, standing on top of her Probopass to really draw attention like a homecoming queen on a float. "Everyone, I am Laguna!" she called seductively, wiggling her fingers. "Watch as I dance and pass my lady buffs to you!"

She struck a few token yoga poses, got bored, and then brought out her hand glider. "Well, toodle-oo! You're on your own now!" she called as she and Probopass lifted off the ground, departing the sordid platform in favor of the club-exclusive Zone D.

"Zapdos, know my name! Know my hair color and general outfit!" Bergamot cried as she flew by with her mustached Pokemon, cheeks rosy pink with cold. "I, Laguna, speaking on behalf of my friend Sarah Lee, want you to know..."

She ripped off her wig dramatically. "...I'm not actually Laguna! Ohohoho! So gullible."

Probopass fired a barrage of Mini-Noses at Zapdos's wingpit/armpit and they moved on, ice forming on the leading edge of her glider. She sent out Guillotine to heal up Probopass's nose as they honed in on their target: the inglorious (and currently exploding) Kath Ulu.

The villainess swooped down towards Zone B, where the ponytailed gardener was currently hanging off Zapdos's big wing, crying. "A-ha! Finally, someone interesting. Are you ready to join the dark side yet?" she called as she swooped overhead. "I notice you're in a pretty precarious position to refuse."

Probopass - Sweeper - 50/250 HP

Link to Roll
Core Ability: Recoil
Action: Fast Atk x4 (654 DMG)
Battle Log:
- Took 100 DMG from Strain/Energy Drain
- Took 30 + 100 DMG from Environment
- Buff +10, Bonuses +10, Healing 30

Piplup - Support - 250/350 HP

Link to Roll
Core Ability: Buff (Probopass)
Action: Heal (Probopass)
Battle Log:
- Took 50 DMG from Strain/Energy Drain
- Took 50 Dmg from Environment
- Bonuses +10

"Engarde!" Bergamot twirled in the door, pretending to make jabby-jabby motions at Cygnus with an invisible rapier. "Word on the Steppes is you're selling antique swords. I happen to be a collector. Mind if I take a look?"

It was uncommonly polite for Morgana "Queen Elizabeth" "Dirty" Riddle, who usually depended on conning her Pokemon off of new trainers or kill-stealing during wild encounters to expand her stock. As far as she remembered, she'd never given these so-called NPC Trade Shops a second glance.

But Honedge was different. Honedge was special. It was more than just a vision of herself-- more than just a fantasy of swords and sorcery, more than just the idea of flailing it around on the Steppes, surely drawing lightning to strike her down (unless any Duraludon were closer).

Chryssa was drawn to this Pokemon with a surety that came from destiny, from bonds and binding, from hidden history she could barely glimpse. Other trials. Other times. It was fate which brought her here, the pull to reclaim the echoes of who she had once been-- even if she didn't fully understand it herself. Even if this Honedge, too, was just a shadow of the past.

"Muir," she said softly, holding the leather sheath in her hands. "Welcome home."

A single eye opened, round and blue as distant worlds, but the sword said nothing.

Morgana trades Magikarp x3, Corphish, Rowlet, Ducklett, Scorbunny, Pineco, Mantyke, Quaxly for Honedge