Prologue: It Looms

The noon’s sun towered over the town’s surrounding fields of meticulously lined trees. Blue dotted the green canopies like a part of the sky shared its color with the land; the Oran berries which gave ‘Oran Stead’ its name. The liveliness of the Pokémon in the main plaza made the farming town even more welcoming, bustling with joyous chatter and ridden with the smell of fresh baked pastries. The wood-and-stone houses and buildings packed closely together had rustic finishes, the kinds that melded in a mismatch with one another not to denote lack of finesse, but to thrive on the acceptance of imperfections and to embrace differences. Its residents extended that eye-rolling concept to all Pokémon, and that very thought had her gagging.

The top-down view from the tallest building showed it all to the female Liepard clearly, way too clearly. The coziness, the happiness, the hundreds of lives devoid of worries. Her fur bristled and acid burned deep in her throat while she scanned the movement. To find him, she would have to think like these townsfolk, these… disgusting hairless little Mareep who weren’t even aware Lycanroc existed. They had no claw, no teeth, not even electricity, yet they waddled happily as if no danger in the world would ever befall them. This place reeked, its happiness was vile. It was nauseating being there, degrading to lower her mind to their pathetic level. 

He had picked this place on purpose. He knew she would eventually have to meet him. The damned smirk, feasting on watching her squirm whilst navigating through the sea of molasses. She could already see it, and it had her hissing.

She straightened her posture and swallowed the bile back. Lingering on these thoughts would accomplish nothing but prolong her stay. Now, where would he be? Her sharp eyes did not spot him out in the open. There were several pies and cakes lined against the bakery’s open windows. She could stake it out — he would surely gorge in them later — but that would take way longer than she could stomach through. Her gaze drifted towards a large group of Pokémon entering a building. The diner was a safe bet. Cheerful, boastful, repugnant. He would get himself surrounded in that kind of filth, especially at its peak time.

Like clockwork he was there, seated in one of the stools and having a spirited exchange with the Miltank server. The Liepard relaxed her posture, shoving her repulsion deep in her mind. The meeting would be quick, she would last. She slithered around the filled tables of the crowded eatery, maintaining her poise despite the uproarious conversations of the patrons gnawing at her ears. 

Once she reached the counter, one swift jump and she was sitting one stool away from him. His shared hearty laugh with the server was a Twineedle to her eardrums. She faced him and the capsaicin smell rammed against her nostrils. It came from the half-eaten Tamato tart soaked in spicy Cheri sauce sitting on his plate. 

“What can I get for ya, ma’am?” The Miltank was staring at her, smiling. 

“Noth—”

“You can get my feline friend one of your irresistible Tamato tarts, Bessie. I am positive she will absolutely love it.” He said, punctuating with a chef’s kiss. “You can put it in my tab along anything else she orders.”

“You’re too kind!” Bessie said, chuckling. “Anything to drink?”

“Water.” The Liepard replied quickly. He would roll all over her if she didn’t intervene. “Ice cold.” 

“Alright! An ice cold water and a Tamato tart. I’ll be right back!” The Miltank nodded and left. 

The Liepard shivered, her stomach convulsed. Why did the server have to look at her with that disgusting smile? It took a few deep breaths to recompose. The Dark-Type’s sight drifted to him. He was cross-legged, lackadaisical, an idle smirk mindlessly directed at her. He was lavishing in her hidden plight. Her tail thrashed, her claws dug into the wooden stool. He knew exactly what he was doing. The nerve. 

The ice-filled glass bowl and the spicy tart plate thudding on the counter snapped her back to the oppressively joyous room. The server winked and left with a trail to the other tables. Her stomach wrenched again.

“I am mostly pleased to have your visit, Ga—”

“Don’t.” The Liepard interrupted, then shoved her snout in the water, desperately lapping it. 

“As charming as ever.” He chuckled. She glared back and his smirk widened. “Good to know you missed me. I missed you too.”

“You didn’t.” She side-eyed him, the water trickling down her throat easing her nausea. It wasn’t cold enough to be as effective as she hoped, but it did enough.

“Fair.” He conceded, shrugging, eyeing the cat rub the water off her face. 

The Liepard craned her spine upright, her posture back to its feline grace. Her gaze drifted to the tart in his hand. The soggy pastry disintegrated at the clumsy bite, the filling overflowing down his hand. He flicked his fingers, plopping the remnants on the plate as he reached for a napkin dispenser. He wiped his hands and the sides of his beak whilst slowly chewing way more than he should have bitten. She couldn’t point out what was worse: his irritating attitude or his severe lack of manners. But judging his flaws again was not why she was there, otherwise she would stay all day; she could not handle that place at all. Straight to business.

“We lost ‘it’.”

He smiled with his mouth still full. “Don’t we lose ‘it’ every couple of months?”

Her tail thrashed once more. Of course he wouldn’t take this seriously. When had he ever? “Permanently, this time.”

He chuckled. The chuckle turned to a giggle, then escalated to full blown laughter, cackle, and wheeze. After a full minute of it, he glanced at her unamused eyes. It winded down to contrived giggles and he wiped the tears with a few unused napkins.

“What is so funny?” She said, exasperated.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. But the thought of years and years down the drain like that. I don’t know about you, but it’s… It’s hilarious.” He had another burst of laughter. “How did you manage to— Actually, don’t tell me. It’s not important anyways. It was a wild Swanna chase from the beginning.”

Her eyes narrowed, her teeth gritted, her gaze homed to his neck. She could tolerate his attitude towards her, but not towards the Moonless’s plans. A sharp bolt of electricity to lock his muscles and a claw to the neck would end him quickly. 

“You could try. The whole diner would love to see you fail at that.” He stared right in her eyes, an unsettling calm grin plastered on his face.

The taunt grated her already thin patience. Her grip cracked the stool beneath her. Her claws glowed purple, faint trickles of electricity materialized over her fur. No one should ever get away with this level of disrespect. He was so very lucky the Moonless needed him. She turned her head and huffed. This idiot wasn’t worth the aftermath’s hassle anyways. 

“A status update was requested.” She moved on.

“The experiment was a success.” He said, leaning against the counter. “All within the range of the expected results. I’ll be staying for a bit longer though. I want to… enjoy the results of my labor, if I may.”

At least there was some saving grace from this horrid trip. Some success, and being away from him for a few more days. Never seeing him again would be too soon. But it wasn’t a decision in her paws alone. “Don’t overstay. As soon as the word spreads, they will be swarming this place.”

“Oh, I can handle them just fine.” He clicked his tongue and shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. His cockiness and flippantness would be the end of them one day. She jumped down the stool, then looked at him. “Whenever you’re done, you’re needed down South. Don’t take long. We’re waiting.”

“Wait.” He said, reaching a hand. “You haven’t touched the Tamato tart.”

“We can’t taste anything. Why would I willingly burn my mouth?”

“Why was your water ice cold then?” He retorted, that cocky smirk returning to his face. 

Her tail thrashed again. No, his attitude wouldn’t be the end of them. She would be the end of him. Just bide time, wait for his inevitable misstep. 

“Keep it.” The dark cat said and turned towards the exit. 

“Your loss.” He said, then stuffed the tart whole into his mouth. She didn’t look back to watch the hideous aftermath. 

The Liepard left the establishment, climbed the building, and her body began to tremble. She darted from roof to roof until she reached the last building at the edge of town. A wave of pain wrecked her from inside out, reviling, twisting, raking her insides. Her landing was clumsy, and  she stumbled through the fields for minutes, fighting the surges of agony. She leaned against a tree and partially-digested berries painted the ground. She heaved, wide-eyed, her body twitching and spasming. She spared a final glance at that grotesque sight of beauty and peace, and more splashed onto the floor. This place was wrong, horrifically wrong, disgustingly wrong. The smiles, the happiness. It was unnatural, freakish, abhorrent, revolting, repulsive. Her body, her core rejected it. It was a pulsing tumor, bared in front of her eyes. 

A few agonizing minutes of panting passed. She lumbered forward, her bulging eyes glowing a sickly deep purple. It was only a matter of time before it all was corrected. It had nearly succeeded twice. When it resurfaced, The Moonless would make sure it finishes the job.