1996

It was a cold night at the office. The subtle sounds of wind howling like a pack of howling Lycanroc rung outside on a loop. Mister Mecklenburg sighed, turning his head to the clock which hung overhead.

The time was eight-fourteen. He took a deep breath, tapping away at the keyboard which lay beneath his hands. The Inteleon’s eyes had begun to droop with exhaustion. The contents of the computer began to blur into a mess of mere symbols and fragments.

“Mister Mecklenburg, do you think it might be a good time to leave?”

The Inteleon paid no attention to the remark.

“Mister Mecklenburg?”

He slammed his fist down on the desk. “Mister Dade! Would you leave me be?”

“I’m tired, Mister Mecklenburg. Can we leave?”

Mister Mecklenburg kept typing. The cubicle was a bit small for his stature, its walls a few inches shorter than him. Mister Dade’s cubicle could be seen from the corner of his eyes. It was a messy thing. Papers scattered everywhere, a broken printer leaking some sort of gray substance, and of course Mister Dade himself. 

The Meowscarada looked no better than his cubicle. His fur never seemed to stay down and instead decided it would be much easier to stick out in every which way. His eyes were pulled down by deep bags. A red tie was crudely tied around his neck, nearly having become undone from a hard day’s work.

The Inteleon laughed. “It’s only eight-fourteen Mister Dade. The game is nearly complete, just a few more minutes.”

“Alright, fine.” Mister Dade relented. “But I mean it! I’m not staying past eight-thirty.”

Mister Mecklenburg smiled. “That’s quite fine, Mister Dade.”

The two of them typed at their computers for another few minutes, no other sound daring to fill the chamber. In fact, Mister Dade and him were the only ones at the office. 

Soon enough the clock ticked to eight-thirty. Inevitably, a voice bleated from the adjacent cubicle.

“Mister Mecklenburg, it is eight-thirty. I’m leaving.”

“It is?” 

“Yes,” the Meowscarada stood up and began to gather papers into a briefcase which he materialized from beneath the desk. “I was told I only had to stay here until five o’clock.”

Mister Mecklenburg laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned! Look at you putting in all those extra hours. Very well then, Mister Dade, you are free to leave.”

Mister Dade hoisted the briefcase over his shoulder and walked out of his cubicle. He looked down the hall, before asking. “Mister Mecklenburg, where is the exit?”

“Exit?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’d like to leave.”

“Mister Dade, you shouldn’t be leaving till five o’clock.” The Inteleon chuckled. 

The Meowscarada’s hands began to shake. He stomped his furry leg on the ground, whipping his gaze to the clock which hung overhead. 

“As you can see,” he said softly. “The time is only three. You should be getting back to your seat, Mister Dade.”

Mister Dade looked up at the clock. Sure enough, the hour hand stood proudly beside the number three. 

The Magician Pokemon raised his briefcase high above his head, slamming his arms down and releasing it onto the ground. Its latches snapped. Papers flew everywhere. One such paper managed to fly up and fall right into Mister Mecklenburg’s hand. 

The Inteleon scanned it over and laughed. The page was blank. All pages on Mister Dade’s desk had probably been blank. What a silly Pokemon!

“Do you need help, Mister Dade?” he asked.

The Meowscarada had turned away. 

“Mister Dade?”

A soft sobbing could be heard coming from Mister Dade. A small translucent tear dripped from his face, down, down, down. It splashed seamlessly, disappearing into the carpeted ground.

An air of hostility began to creep into Mister Mecklenburg’s voice. “Mister Dade. Do you need help with your papers?”

The Pokemon pounced without warning. His feet left the ground, Mister Mecklenburg saw the shine of pristine, white claws heading straight toward his face. His eyes widened—his fingers twitched.

Mister Dade landed effortlessly atop Mister Mecklenburg. He pushed the Inteleon back, causing him to slam back into the cubicle’s wall, waving back and forth ever so slightly. A desperate grin came over the Meowscarada’s face as he watched the Inteleon fall to the ground.

Pain shot through Mister Mecklenburg’s skull. Three sharp claws pressed up against his neck, their sting becoming ever more present with each passing. Mister Dade kneeled as his foot lay sternly atop his torso.

“Mister Dade?! What is the meaning of this?” Mister Mecklenburg held up his hands.

The Meowscarada’s sclera had been stained a sharp red. “What’s the meaning of this? I don’t know Mister Mecklenburg, I really don’t. How about you let me leave, and then we can figure it out.”

“Let you leave?” the Inteleon laughed. “Why, you only got here an hour ago. Look at the time.” 

Mister Dade craned his head back to look at the clock.

“See? It’s only ten.”

The Meowscarada screeched. A horrible, unintelligible, screech of an obvious madman. Drops of spit flew onto Mister Mecklenburg’s face despite his continuing calm demeanor.

“You’re fucking with me, Mecklenburg! You freak! Let me go!” Mister Dade raised his foot and brought it back down. “Let me go!” He repeated, each time stomping again on the Inteleon.

Yet still, the water Pokemon’s face hardly changed. It didn’t even seem like he was in any pain at all. 

The Meowscarada’s stomps began to weaken. Mister Mecklenburg could feel the claws pressed against his neck beginning to withdraw. After a few more stomps, Mister Dade’s foot once again rested motionlessly on top of him.

“Have you gotten it all out of your system, Mister Dade?”

The Pokemon’s chest heaved. Vitriol still seemed to drip from his mouth as he looked down upon his prey. “Depends. Will you let me leave? Will you stick to your promise?”

“Games don’t code themselves, Mister Dade.”

He pushed harder upon Mister Mecklenburg’s chest. “Will you let me leave?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Mister Dade.” the Inteleon groaned. “But if I fear there is a threat you could hurt me. Or even worse, be attempting to shirk work. Well, do not delude yourself into thinking you are a better fighter than me.”

Mister Dade’s eyes darted back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, he stepped off Mister Mecklenburg.

“Good choice, Mister Dade.”

The Inteleon pushed himself up and rubbed his head. The Meowscarada was gone.

“Mister Dade?”

The sound of tapping had resumed in the neighboring cubicle. Mister Mecklenburg sat down, his heart rate slowed, the clock ticked, all was in order. The computer appeared to have retained power during the fight. Not that it mattered, anyways. He placed his long fingers on the keys and started typing.

In reality, Mister Mecklenburg wasn’t typing much of anything. His fingers moved. Quickly, faster, an impossible speed. The only point was to move at a greater speed than the paws of Mister Dade. If you were to look at the screen of Mister Mecklenburg, you would only see a jumble of letters broken up by the occasional space.

But of course, the silence couldn’t last. Mister Mecklenburg could see the movements of Mister Dade’s mouth before any words left.

“You let Mister Wayne go.”

The Inteleon moved his hand beneath his desk. “Yes, I did let Mister Wayne go. He got his work done. What of it?”

“And you let Mister Fulton go, too. But me, it’s me you’ve decided to torture!”

“Another fine man who finished his work. Once you finish, you may leave too.”

Mister Dade sighed. “You’ve said that—”

Mister Mecklenburg found a soft bump under the desk. It was a button, hidden away in a crevice only the thinnest of fingers could reach. He pushed down.

A mechanical noise cut off Mister Dade, the sound of metal gears crunching. A trap door opened overhead to reveal nothing other than a skylight. Sizable, it spanned the ceiling above their desks.

“Oh, wow…” muttered Mister Dade.

Centered in the skylight was the full moon in all its glory. It wasn’t real, how could it be? But, it had been a long time since Mister Dade had seen the sky, assumed Mister Mecklenburg.

“See the moon up there?” the Inteleon asked. “Look how close it is.”

Mister Dade’s head had turned upward to face the object in the sky. “Yes, Mister Mecklenburg. It looks like it’s just above the roof.”

A twinge of panic ran through Mister Mecklenburg. It seemed to be a rhetorical comment, just a pure observation. Nothing more, right? Well, Mister Dade already seemed to suspect the clocks, and that was an understatement.

But to be safe, he clicked the button again. The skylight became hidden away by the dull white ceiling.

Mister Mecklenburg began tapping.

While his monitor did display the random keys he tapped, it was by no means useless. Controls could be pulled up to change the time displayed on the clocks. Lights, temperature, humidity, ambient noises, if it was something that could be used to somehow confuse or make someone uncomfortable, Mister Mecklenburg likely had access to it. 

His musings of power distracted from the fact Mister Dade had stopped typing. This happened on occasion, everyone’s paws need rest, after all. But after minutes passed by it had still yet to resume.

“Mister Dade? How’s the catching system coming along? Having trouble?”

The Meowscarada flexed his paw. “Just taking a moment. It feels like no matter what I do, the game crashes whenever I try to simulate catching a Pokemon. Funny, isn’t it?”

Mister Mecklenburg eyed the button on his monitor displaying, ‘DISABLE GAME.’

“Funny, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “The magic of game development.”

“I’d hardly call it magical, Mister Mecklenburg.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh well. Do carry on, though.”

Mister Dade began to type again. However, at a speed that could be beaten by even the most amateur of developers. Mister Mecklenburg attempted to pressure him into going faster. Clack, clack, clacking away at the large buttons beneath which were a bit louder than those of Mister Dade to always give the illusion of some higher productivity from his superior.

Yet still, Mister Dade did not speed up.

“Mister Dade, please use your time productively.”

“You’re trying to fuck with me, aren’t you?” the Meowscarada broke out into a laugh.

Mister Mecklenburg’s eyes widened. He looked down to see the Meowscarada covering his face, but the sly smirk of a cat peeking upon either edge of his paw. 

“Mister Dade, is something the matter?” the Inteleon questioned.

He stood up. “Yes, yes. Something is very much the matter, Mister Mecklenburg. But there’s something which I think I’ve figured out.”

“And what might that be?” Mister Mecklenburg’s heart began to pound against his chest, his eyes narrowed.

The Meowscarada winked. “If you’re not going to let me out on my own, I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

And with those words, he was off. Mister Dade sprinted down the hallway as if there were no tomorrow. His green body became smaller, blurrier, smaller, and smaller. Going past cubicles, tiny, a speck in the wind, gone.

It was quite impressive. However, there was little time for Mister Mecklenburg to dwell on that thought as he too broke into a spring. His long legs and lank build allowed for him to move quickly and eventually see a green dot on the horizon.

The Inteleon knew that Mister Dade would never find the end of the office. Despite having been running for a good few minutes, the cubicles stretched on.

There was no exit.

Or, not one which could be reached by heading in a single cardinal direction.

A sort of primal rage began to build up inside Mister Mecklenburg as the dot grew into the outline of a Meowscarda. The aquatic Pokemon had worked with many developers on the creation of the game. He could recall having held them for days, even weeks at a time. 

Mister Dade was not the first who had tried to run, nor would he be the last. Mister Mecklenburg saw the cat becoming larger and larger, towering just below five feet up ahead. 

The Meowscarada craned his head behind him. “I’m almost there! I can feel it!”

“You’re going to hit a wall, Mister Dade.”

“Really?” he laughed. “This is the best I’ve felt since you trapped me here! I’m finally going to be free!”

Mister Mecklenburg was trailing a foot behind, shaking his head despite the speed. “When I say you’re going to hit a wall, I really mean it.”

Suddenly, a wall appeared that had not been there before. Simply materializing out of thin air, an act of magic? Illusion? Pure will? Regardless, it was there now and only about twenty feet ahead of Mister Dade. Mister Mecklenburg smiled, digging his feet into the coarse ground to slow his pace. 

Mister Dade still was not looking ahead, a confused expression coming over him as he watched Mister Mecklenburg fall behind.

He looked forward.

It was too late.

Mister Dade slammed straight into the wall with a loud bang! The noise echoed down the empty, neverending, impossibly infinite row of cubicles.

Mister Mecklenburg trotted over to the Meowscarada. He clutched his furry head, taking a step back from the wall. Stumbling, Mister Dade lurched to the left, then forward, before swerving over to Mister Mecklenburg. A soft groan left his mouth.

“Guh, everything… spinning.”

The Inteleon placed a hand on his shoulder. “Get a hold of yourself, Mister Dade.”

Mister Dade stabilized, though still nursed his forehead with a paw. “Wh-Where did that come from?”

“Oh, how would I know?” asked Mister Mecklenburg. 

“I… It was—forever! There were no laws! I mean, walls. I just kept running and running, and running, and then bam!” his chest heaved. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Yes, that’s the idea, Mister Dade.” Mister Mecklenburg took a deep breath in, tightening his grip on the Meowscarada’s shoulder. 

His eyes widened with fear. “Wh-What do you mean that’s the idea?”

“I don’t know, what do I mean?”

Mister Dade jolted back, causing Mister Meckleburg’s hand to lose its grip. His paws trembled as he brought it up to point at the Inteleon.

“Y-You! Mecklenburg, what do you want from me? I’ve tried working honestly! I’ve tried to run out of this place! But now, I don’t know. Just tell me what you want me to do. Should I cut my arm? Is that what it will take to escape?!”

The Inteleon smiled. “I assure you, no such thing is necessary, Mister Dade.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What?”

The Meowscarada took a step back. “Stop calling me Mister Dade. That is not my name.”

“Oh,” Mister Mecklenburg’s eyes narrowed, his fingers curling into fists. “I may have not been subtle with the clocks, and I’m sure you’ve figured out this space isn’t quite linear.”

Mister Dade began to emit a low growl.

“But that… that is the one thing you were not supposed to know.”

Mister Mecklenburg clapped his hands twice. In an instant, the office went totally dark. Slowly, the Inteleon crept forward toward the trembling Pokemon.

“M-Mr Mecklenburg?”

---

Mister Dade awoke on top of a bunk bed. 

Alone, he scanned the room for any other inhabitants. It was small, most of the space taken up by the bed and with a hard concrete floor. He sighed. The ceiling was adorned with a single light. Some sort of speaker appeared to be built into the wall, its metal exterior covered in a thick layer of rust.

Beside it lay a clock. It was identical in appearance to the one from the office, proudly telling the Meowscarda that it was about to be five o’clock.

Suddenly, the speaker came to life with a scratchy mechanical voice.

“Mister Dade! I see you’re awake.”

The Meowscarada did not respond.

“Mister Dade?”

“What do you want?” he fell back onto the bed. It was soft enough, but not particularly pleasant to his fur.

The voice remained silent for a moment. “I want you to try again. This time you may succeed.”

“What if I refuse?”

The voice laughed. “Hopefully it does not come to that.

“What are you going to do, kill me? That’s becoming a lot more appealing than whatever this is.” as he completed the sentence, the Meowscarada felt his eyes shut. A heaviness filled the room, some odd yet invisible weighing him down and preventing any movement.

He could tell the loudspeaker had continued to drone on, but it was almost as if his ears had been closed shut, only allowing him to hear a quiet rumble…

It was a cold night at the office. The subtle sounds of wind howling like a pack of howling Lycanroc rung outside on a loop. Mister Mecklenburg sighed, turning his head to the clock which hung overhead.