| Rio POV |
Everyone stares.
Type: Null stares right back. Expectantly.
"…You've gotta be kidding me," May mutters, one hand on her hip, the other slowly rising to pinch the bridge of her nose.
Roxanne's jaw twitches like she's trying very hard not to laugh or scream. "This… this thing was built to kill gods. And it wants belly rubs."
Faba looks like he's going to have an aneurysm. "You cannot be serious! This is a weapon—an apex anti-Ultra Beast prototype—and you're scratching it like a Lillipup on a lazy Sunday!"
"BZZZT! Scratch protocols initializing!" Rotom chirps. "Estimated bonding rate: 78%! Estimated scientist meltdown: imminent!"
Faba slams both palms against the glass wall that he lowered between us, did he think that would have been enough to stop me? "Stop it! Stop whatever this is! You're supposed to resonate! Synchronize! Become the core of a new evolution—not give it tummy pats like a Snorlax plush!"
But I'm already crouched down, my hand gently brushing against the armor plates. The texture is rough—coarse metal stitched over warm flesh—but the reaction is immediate. Type: Null lets out another weird croon, and its tail flops once against the floor like a satisfied puppy.
Ralts is watching now too. She tilts her head, then slowly pads up to sniff at the creature's massive, scarred muzzle. It doesn't flinch.
"…Well," Roxanne says after a long pause. "I guess we found the secret Good boy command protocol."
Faba slides down the glass like his entire doctoral thesis just caught fire.
"I had charts. I had graphs! I was going to give a presentation!"
"BZZZT! Graphs irrelevant. Friendship wins again!" Rotom beams. "Initiating 'Friends Not Fusion' failsafe!"
I sigh.
"…Guess this means I'm not the dinner party's main course after all."
May claps a hand over her face. "I hate that that line made sense in context."
Roxanne, deadpan: "We're gonna have to register it as an emotional support weapon, aren't we?"
Faba stares in mute horror as the creature sits obediently beside me, its tail thumping faintly.
Ralts hops onto its back, already bonding with our resident supper weapon. I guess that means she approves too.
Rotom zooms overhead, triumphant. "MISSION UPDATE:
Type: Null has joined the party!
+1 Extremely Confused Legendary-Grade Weapon
+1 Traumatized Scientist**
Faba collapses to his knees. "I... I spent fifteen years in a lab for this…"
I pat Type: Null's side again. "Yeah. And he's a very good boy."
He lets out a happy wheeze.
So.
I guess I have a murder weapon now.
Who wants a walk?
"Technically, it's not arson… they have a permit."
We all freeze.
Slowly, we turn back toward the voice.
The Team Rocket grunt—the one with the half-zipped uniform, terminally tired eyes, and aura of someone who once lost a fight to a coffee machine—sits casually on a folding chair. He's cradling a chipped mug that says:
'World's #1 Scientist'
It's definitely Faba's mug.
He slurps. Loudly.
May almost lunges at him, eyes wide. "Shouldn't we be running out or something? This place is about to become a furnace!"
"There's like five secret escape doors in this room alone... Chill."
Roxanne stares at him."You're just sitting there while we're about to be vaporized?"
He shrugs again."Union says I'm not paid to intervene during tier-7 incidents. Or tier-6. Or—really, anything past coffee breaks and controlled leaks." He takes another sip."Besides. You look like a crafty bunch. You'll figure it out."
Felix stands up slowly, stretching the stiffness out of his back like he's just woken up from a nap.
He pushes open a barely noticeable panel in the wall, revealing a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
May, Roxanne, and I exchange glances but fall in line behind him. Ralts floats close, eyes sharp, and Type: Null pads silently beside me.
The corridor smells faintly of ozone and old machinery. Felix's calm footsteps echo softly as he leads us deeper into the bowels of the lab. Seriously, who is this guy? He looks way too cool to be any random NPC.
| Faba POV |
All my life's work... gone. Ruined because some damn yellow rodent turned my synthetic god into a playful puppy!
"Damn it all! I worked my entire life to make the perfect Pokémon, and I would have succeeded, if it hadn't been for those meddling kids!" I throw my briefcase across the boat, the few papers and notes I had stashed away from my employers scattering across the deck.
"At least they're dead now... What a shame. Finding something as good as that Riolu for my research would be nigh-impossible..."
I pace the cramped deck, the cold night air biting through my lab coat. The city lights flicker distantly behind the horizon, mocking me with their careless indifference.
The lab is lost, all that research—poof—incinerated by a flamethrower firewall.
"Sigh... Maybe I should just retire... Someone else can try to make God in a test tube..."
I hear footsteps approaching and look up.
The silhouettes of May, Rio, Ralts, and that terrifying Type: Null emerge on the gangplank, stepping onto the boat like ghosts from my worst nightmares.
"H-how did you escape?!" I stammer out a I fall on my back, crawling into the railing as I see the dangerous glint in Null's eyes.
I freeze, hearing that unmistakable steel like voice in my mind: "Plot armor. Plus, fire weakness kicks in only after evolution." My pulse quickens as I watch the Riolu walk closer to me.
The silhouettes of May, Rio, Ralts, and that terrifying Type: Null emerge on the gangplank, stepping onto the boat like ghosts from my worst nightmares.
Before the tension can snap, Felix's voice cuts through the silence.
"Enough."
| Rio POV |
The tired-looking grunt—Felix—pushes through the group, now clad in a sharply pressed uniform marked with the Pokémon League insignia.
"I'm taking Faba into custody," he says, his tone cold and official.
Faba's eyes widen in shock, the brief moment of panic replaced by reluctant resignation.
"When did you change your clothes?" I ask, half-impressed, half-confused.
Felix adjusts the League-issued cuffs on Faba's wrists and flashes his now-signature lazy grin. "While you were busy listening to his villain monologue."
May snorts. Roxanne groans. Even Ralts looks vaguely amused.
Faba sputters as the cuffs click into place. "Y-you can't do this! I'm the hope of humanity! I have tenure! I have clearance!"
"You had clearance," Felix says coolly. "Now you've got a date with an ethics board and about thirty criminal investigations."
Null looms over Faba one last time, rumbling low.
Faba promptly shuts up.
Felix glances at the rest of us. "Thanks for the help, by the way. League's been trying to pin this guy for years. You're good to go—unless you want to fill out some paperwork?"
We all turn around.
We are already gone.
Word Count: 1194
MC: Wasn't the villain supposed to escape so he can come back stronger or something?
You already have to deal with three dozen criminal syndicates and about a hundred dimension hopping freaks of nature, you sure you want the trouble?
MC: No....