| Rio POV |
The boat rocks gently against the pier, the city lights of Slateport twinkling like they're trying to pretend nothing insane just happened.
Felix adjusts his freshly donned League-issued jacket, its badge glinting faintly in the moonlight. His usual lazy grin is firmly in place as he double-checks the cuffs on Faba, who's doing his best impression of an angry Meowth stuffed in a carrier.
"This is outrageous! I am a respected scientist! I have rights!" Faba screeches, struggling uselessly as Felix's Charizard clamps its claws into the back of his lab coat and lifts him like an annoyed parent hauling off a misbehaving child.
Felix doesn't even flinch. "Yeah, yeah. File a complaint with HR. I'm sure they'll get right on that."
May folds her arms, trying—and failing—not to laugh at the sight of Faba dangling like a particularly ugly piñata. "So. That's it, huh? You're just gonna fly off into the night?"
Felix shrugs. "Union says I'm not paid to stick around after cleanup." He glances at Rio. "Besides. You guys got this, right? Save the world, stop the next madman, don't burn down another lab… y'know, the usual."
Roxanne smirks. "You're really leaving us with all the fun, huh?"
"Wouldn't want to steal your spotlight." Felix swings up onto Charizard's back with practiced ease. The big dragon rumbles once, wings spreading wide as it prepares to take off. Faba flails helplessly beneath him.
"Mark my words, you haven't seen the last of Faba! I will rebuild! I will—"
"Quiet, luggage," Felix says, flicking Faba's forehead mid-flight.
With a powerful beat of its wings, Charizard takes off, soaring into the night sky, leaving only a few stray papers fluttering on the breeze.
"Welp, that's our Team Rocket troubles dealt with?" I voice out my thoughts, glancing between the boat's deck and the Devon building—what's left of it anyway. Flames crackle against the night, smoke billowing into the sky like a beacon for every news chopper within a hundred miles. A squad of firefighters scrambles along the docks, shouting orders as their Pokémon work overtime. Streams of water arc through the air from Vaporeon, Blastoise, a couple of Starmie spinning like living sprinklers.
May lets out a low whistle. "They're gonna be filing insurance claims for the next decade."
Roxanne crosses her arms, eyes sharp as she watches the firefighters work. "Good. Maybe next time they won't try to flash roast us inside a lab bunker."
Ralts floats up beside me, tugging lightly at my fur with her tiny hands. Her eyes flick between me and the city skyline, as if asking: What now?
Type: Null stands silently at the boat's edge, watching the flames with eerie calm. Like it's memorizing the scene. Or maybe just enjoying the warmth.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my head. "I guess we go see what the next disaster looks like."
May groans. "You just had to jinx it, didn't you?"
"Don't blame me! It's not my fault the main plot has just started!" I huff, crossing my arms like it's totally not my problem.
Later — Roxanne's Gym
We head back to Roxanne's Gym. She's nice enough to let us crash in a spare room since the Pokémon Center mysteriously filled up overnight. Because of… someone. Definitely not us. Nope. We had absolutely nothing to do with the recent arson incident. Couldn't be.
I watch the others as they settle in.
Combusken finally pops out of her Pokéball, gives a triumphant squawk, and immediately starts pecking at our shiny new god-killing machine's armor plates like she's looking for corn under the rivets.
Type: Null looks down at her, tail twitching, clearly contemplating self-defenestration.
Ralts is doing her Ralts thing—floating up to the top bunk and surrounding herself with a hoard of snacks like some kind of tiny, psychic dragon guarding its treasure.
May? May is hunched over the coffee table, muttering about future expenses and scribbling furiously on a notepad like she's aged ten years in the last hour. Rotom is circling her like an excited accountant, cheerfully correcting her math and helpfully adding a few extra zeroes to the total. Yea-ouch.
And me?
I do what any brooding hero does: stare pensively out the window, arms crossed, glancing at my status screen every so often. That shiny "EVO" button next to my race flickers at me—tempting. Mocking.
Sure, evolution would be useful. Wonderful, even. Imagine it: no longer a three-foot-tall gremlin constantly underestimated by toddlers. But… adulthood's a big responsibility, you know?
Maybe tomorrow.
[Evolution commencing! Evo-path not chosen—'Random BS Go' sequence initiating!]
…Come on. Really?! I didn't even do anything to trigger this!
And then—I spot it. A faint countdown next to the button. The kind of tiny, barely-there font they use in sketchy ads to hide the "processing fee" so they don't get sued.
I stare at the blinking EVO button like it's some cosmic joke. No prompt, no warning — just a flashing invitation to chaos.
Well, guess I don't have much of a choice here. Might as well spin the wheel and see what fate's got in store for me.
Click.
Bring it on.
The wheel spins, a blur of colors and symbols—some of them I don't even think are supposed to exist. What's a "Brood Overlord"? And there's one just called "Chakra Tree"? What's a "Paradox Pokemom" Is it like Schrodinger's cat? Schrodinger's Meowth?
My heart skips a beat as it slows… and finally lands on — Cursed Beast.
"Cursed Beast Lucario? What am I? A final raid boss? Well... It's certainly flattering."
I blink. That's… not exactly what I was expecting. Oh well, sweet sweet power up, here I come!
| May POV |
I don't even look up at first — too busy trying to salvage the spending charts Rotom keeps messing with. Every time I blink, that little menace adds another zero where it doesn't belong. We do not need that many potions.
Then I notice the weird glow. That kind of glow that screams "something is about to go catastrophically wrong."
I glance over at Rio. He's standing there, arms crossed, glowing like some discount Christmas tree, and looking way too calm about it.
I just stare at him for a second. Deadpan. No words. Just… processing.
Then I sigh. Loudly.
"Really? Now?" I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "We couldn't have waited until after I figured out how we're paying for lunch tomorrow?"
I shove myself to my feet and walk over, because of course I do. Of course this is my life now. At this point, I'm more surprised when things don't go sideways.
I stop a few steps from Rio, just in time to see the glow intensify — like someone cranked the brightness up way past what's safe for my retinas. The air feels heavy, thick with something I can't name, and my skin prickles like we're standing too close to a thunderstorm.
And then it happens.
The light fades, and there he is.
Lucario.
But not any Lucario.
His spikes — those normally bone-white spikes — they're black. Black like carbon steel, like they've been forged in fire and meant to punch through gods. The gray fur on his face and limbs? It's red now. A deep, unsettling red that looks too much like blood under the moonlight. And the yellow? That soft, expected yellow of Lucario's shiny form I've seen in books, in battles? Gone. Replaced by this pale, eerie pink that gives me goosebumps just looking at it. And his white torso bares the same marks he had when he went full possessed mode.
He's taller. Stronger-looking. There's this quiet menace in the way he stands, like he knows no one's going to underestimate him again.
I rub my eyes, half-expecting to snap out of it.
"...Of course," I mumble. "Why wouldn't you come out looking like something out of a horror manga?"
I glance at Rotom. It's recording. Of course it is. Probably adding dramatic music and sparkly text overlays too. Great. This'll be all over the PokéNet by morning.
And Rio?
He just stares down at himself, ears twitching, expression caught somewhere between pure betrayal and mild disgust — like he ordered steak and got tofu.
Then he finally speaks, voice echoing in my head through that weird telepathy link he only uses when he's really losing it:
"WHY THE FUCK AM I PINK?!"
I swear, if Lucario could cry, he would've right then and there.
I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I really do. Because the look on his face? Priceless.
"You're not pink," I say, deadpan. "You're… ultra pink. There's a difference."
Rotom helpfully floats over, zooming in with that way-too-cheerful tone:"Pale magenta detected! Uploading to fashion fails folder!"
Rio groans, loud and dramatic, like the universe itself has personally wronged him. Null gives him the kind of slow, judgmental glance usually reserved for toddlers throwing tantrums in public. Combusken snorts so hard she nearly falls over, then starts pecking at one of his black spikes, probably trying to figure out if it's edible.
And Ralts?Ralts just sits there on the bunk, chip bag in her lap, staring at him with those big shining eyes like he's the coolest thing she's ever seen. Zero judgment. Pure awe.
Rotom, of course, isn't done. The little menace zips in closer, red light scanning up and down Rio's new form, whirring loudly as it tries to wedge itself close to his face."Heavy presence of Z-energy and a ghost-type like energy detected! Intriguing hybrid signature! I'm going to run some more intrusive tests! BZZZT!"
"Get out of my mouth, you goddamn toaster!" Rio snarls, swatting at it as Rotom tries to scan his tonsils or whatever.
I just lean back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling with a dead gaze."I'm calling my dad... I want a refund, I don't want to be a trainer anymore..."
Word Count: 1650
So... Pink, huh?
MC: Shut the fuck up.
Fair.