Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: The Phantasmagoria

Special Episode: Can You Make A Promise?

Part 2: Falling Without Purpose

The morning sun greeted the city of Verdure, the heartland of the Grass Continent. Its warm and bright influence spread throughout the tall buildings and homes of many awakening Pokemon, signifying the start of a shining new day.

As usual, the market district of the city would open at the crack of dawn as Pokemon started to trickle in to do their early shopping ritual. Eventually, the hub of commerce would become flooded with buyers, spending to their heart's content. Guards were stationed near the square's sides, wary of thieves and a certain fox with a wanted status on his head.

In one of the many dark alleyways connected to the shopping district, a crafty Zoroark hanging off a flickering street lamp would use this morning rush to his advantage.

"Heh, looks like I've got a few potential customers myself today. Now, let's see…"

Roark climbed higher on the pole, squinting his predatory gaze at the influx of finished shoppers entering the alleyways to avoid the crowds. He scrutinized each Pokemon that entered his 'territory', debating on who to go after.

"A Machamp? Not tusslin' with no Fighting-types today. And I'm definitely not messing with any Fairy-types." He shivered at the memory, but found his attention drawn to a lone Grass-type carrying a saddlebag and wandering the alley. "Hmm, that Snivy kid, though…"

He had a general rule of thumb to not target kids, but he was beginning to get desperate. His Poké count was pitiful, and his stash of food was growing dangerously low. Each day he wasn't out robbing, the more his time searching for answers was strained.

"Well, can't take a moral high ground on this with my situation."

He leapt off the street lamp with newfound vigor, getting on four legs and quietly sprinting through the alley's pitch-black shadows in relative sneakiness. Illusions were something he could never conjure himself, so he used his quick speed and stealth in the darkness to get the job done.

Besides, the 'Illusionless Thief' had a nice ring to it.

As the Snivy entered a large portion of the winding alleyways, he decided now would be a good time to enact his little game of finding out what was in the bag. Stopping at a nearby corner, he psyched himself up for yet another dance in the streets.

"Alright, you've got a hot date with a new victim, you handsome devil, so don't screw this," he lectured himself, clearing his throat and preparing his big entrance.

Meanwhile, the Snivy found herself in quite a jam - lost in the narrow maze of alleyways with no clear way out. She looked around, debating with her inner self on what way to go next. But before she could decide, a raking of sharp claws on stone and a chuckle from behind would rattle her thoughts.

She whirled around, searching the many shadows of the dingy looking passage for the culprit.

"W-Who's there?!" She stamped her foot to hopefully display that she wasn't scared. "Show yourself to me right away!"

"Well, don't mind if do…"

From behind a cover of discarded wooden boards came the smirking visage of a Zoroark, confidently striding his way over to the gasping Grass-type.

"Y-You're the-"

"Illusionless Thief," he finished, jabbing a crimson claw at himself. "Bingo. Now, pass over your bag. I got an appointment to catch, and I can't get caught up with a whole chase with guards."

Snivy gulped. "You can't do this to me. I'm… I'm a princess! A princess of a very strong mercenary clan!" She puffed her tiny chest out. "And if you rob me, I'll send my minions after you!"

Roark chuckled at her obvious bluff. "Yeah, maybe when you're older, kid." He strode over and yanked the saddlebag off her shoulder. "Yoink! Now, let's see what kind of goodies you got for me…"

"D-Don't take it all, please!"

The fox glanced around to make sure there was no onlookers, placing the bag on the floor and opening up its many zippers. He scrounged through them, finding mostly children's supplies that were of little use to him. The few Poké that was there he pocketed, subconsciously knowing it wouldn't even pay for today's expenses. However, there was one item in particular that he raised an eyebrow at - an entire bottle of the finest Perfect Apple whiskey this side of the Grass Continent. He swished around the brown liquid of the decorated bottle with a claw, whistling.

"How'd a runt like you get your paws on this? Actually…" He scoffed. "Why are you even carrying around alcohol?"

Snivy sighed, knowing she had to tell the truth "I, um, stole it from the market…" She rubbed her arm. "My dad told me to get some 'cause he couldn't move from an injury, and the... wouldn't sell it to me, so…"

Roark shook his head, staring at the glass of liquor. His anger at the father for sending his daughter out to buy alcohol was only eclipsed by the anger directed at himself for trying to rob a child in desperation. Every problem in the world seemed to arise from this bottle, and he was no different.

Roark dropped the Poké he stole back into Snivy's saddlebag, his weathered moral compass still showing signs of life. Still, he clutched the drink and pointed a claw at an adjacent alley.

"Tell your dad to suck a lemon, 'cause this is mine. Scram, and if the guards ask, you never saw me."

Snivy hastily nodded, grabbing her saddlebag and sprinting off in the direction he gave.

'Well, guess it's back to the old grind…'

Slipping the bottle into his rather large mane, the Zoroark slinked back into the black shadows, clinging to them as he passed multiple guards searching the streets for the 'Illusionless Thief'.

'Guess I'm gonna have to call it a day due to these bozos.'

Reluctantly, he changed directions, finding an isolated street corner where no Pokémon would recognize his unmistakable form. Taking a small breather, he pulled out the bottle from his mane of fur, swishing around its mystifying contents again.

There was temptation in his gaze, but he quickly decided not to.

'Ah, maybe I'll save it for a celebration or somethi-'

A sudden stinging pain and subsequent brief flashes of blue and yellow in his vision made him suck his teeth, kneeling slightly from the short experience.

'Just had to fuckin' get me there, right, brain?'

Roark chuckled through his pain, fixing his stance and beginning to stroll through the lonesome alleyway - all the way back to his apartment, still gripping the glass of alcohol.

'Maybe one day you'll tell me your secrets, brain…'

"Didja hear the news, foxboy?"

"Eh?" Roark said, peeling his lips from a freshly finished shot glass. "I don't follow the news, Ursaring, you know that."

"Hah, of course you don't."

Too many bars in Verdure began to identify the Zoroark as a wanted outlaw not long into his thieving escapades. And since he didn't know how to create illusions, the only place he could go to catch a drink and hang out was a seedy and most likely illegal joint hidden in between one of the city's many alleyways.

But Roark wasn't there to discuss the finer details - he was there to drink until he couldn't see straight.

"But tell me, what happened in this hellhole today?" the fox asked, rattling his claws on the decaying wooden counter. "If a newspaper has my mug on the cover of it, can I get a discount?"

The bear snorted, "Nah, the real news is that those 'Rescue Society' 'mons are showing up around the city in droves."

Roark had heard of these Pokémon before, mostly through word of mouth by various passerby's on the street, and his own curiosity getting the better of him. Apparently, they were a large group of volunteers dedicated to assisting Pokemon all across the Celestic Continent. Be it a rescue mission in a dangerous Mystery Dungeon, or a daring operation against an ensuing hurricane, the Rescue Society gave the local guard of any town or city they visited a run for their money with their extensive talents.

But the one question that lingered on the Zoroark's mind was why they were here in the Grass Continent of all places.

"Yeah? What are they here for, though?" he shot back, waggling his empty glass. "They're pretty busy 'mons, so I didn't expect them to hang out here on vacation."

Ursaring grabbed the glass, filling it back up and sliding it over. "Get this - they're here for some mission in the Sunbaked Plains, right? Well, I heard from another lad up in town hall that the Rescue Society is also here to help with the 'thief problem' going around the city."

Roark instantly downed the glass, raising an amused brow. "Sheesh… I think I'm too good at my job. You're saying I now gotta look out for these Rescue Society guys?"

The bear shrugged, "Dunno. But it'd be a shame to lose my best customer now, wouldn't it?"

"Heh, yeah… it would be."

The fox quietly eyed the barren shot glass in his grip, wondering just when he would eventually have to give up the ghost with his life's sole mission, or simply be captured and let the justice for his deeds sort him out. But he knew there was only option in the end, and that was to keep going until he found a clue - any lead at all to follow.

There had to be a light at the end - something that would show him his actions built to something.

"I'm gonna get out of your hair- er… fur, Usaring."

"You be safe out there, Roark! Well, as safe as you can be with your profession…"

"I'll try."

The Zoroark left the rusty stool, tossing a handful of Poké he took out from his mane onto the counter. After a silent wave of goodbye, he exited the small bar, stepping out into the desolate alleys once more. He straightened his back with a crack of his unused joints, acclimating his shaky vision back into reality.

It was noon when he entered the questionable establishment, and now it was night, bringing with it a blanket of stars that were obscured by the city's smothering lights.

'Think the market's are staying open til midnight, so this is a perfect opportunity for some more action…'

Before he could plot out his upcoming plan of late night business, his eyes caught a glimpse of activity near the end of the alley. He immediately sidestepped into the unlit shadows, observing the rather large entourage walk by.

At a glance, Roark could tell they weren't the average guard of Verdure. They wore various sets of gears and tools on a belt around their waists, along with a black cape that drifted in the cold breeze of the night. A Bisharp led the group down the city's streets, holding a map and telling the others something that the fox couldn't overhear.

'Shit. Guess Ursaring was right - these guys are here, and are maybe looking for me.'

Despite this potentially being a major wrench in his operations, he had no choice but to continue his efforts tonight.

'Hope I still make enough for my big meeting in a few days…'

With yet another obstacle in his path to possible answers, he got on all fours and sprinted towards his usual spot near the bustling market, hoping it wouldn't be his last hustle for good.

It had been a week since Roark had spotted members of the Rescue Society congregating in the streets, and ever since then, his attempts to steal from the Pokémon entering the alleyways have been blocked at every opportunity. Squads of Pokémon now patrolled them, just waiting for the Zoroark to pop his head in for a capture.

He was beginning to grow more desperate each day for money, more so than he was before. Now only monetarily peeking atop his trusty street lamp, he searched the seas of shopping Pokemon for the perfect target.

'C'mon… C'mon…'

A lone Whimsicott entering his line of sight would seal in his latest victim. Cracking a grin, he jumped off and dashed towards his newest target. He had to get this one in the bag, or he'd go hungry another day.

'Arce- what's his face… Arceus! Let me get away with this just once, okay?'

Regardless if his pleas were heard, the fox quickly reached his target before the guards could deter the Grass-type away from the alleys. After spotting the poor Pokémon all by herself in the labyrinth he called home, he advanced with more haste than usual, ready to get this over with.

"Alright, lady, just drop your Poké and I'll get out of your, uh, massive hair."

The now quaking Whimsicott backed up, uttering loudly in fear. "G-GUARDS!"

"Oh, you gotta be…"

Usually the frantic alerts of his victims could never travel through the alleys and reach the ears of distant guards, but since they were constantly roaming them now, a nearby squad was just right around the corner. And after hearing a cry for help, a sharp turn around a corner would have them come face to face with thejr number one suspect.

Roark wasted no time in taking off, forgetting his attempts and putting all his efforts into evading a capture, or worse. Behind him, he was able to listen in on the echoing commands of getting more backup.

'Man, today is just not my day… or any day for that matter.'

Racing down a corner, only more guards and Rescue Society members greeted him. He skidded his attempts of fleeing to a halt, sprinting down an adjacent corridor before a wave of paralyzing and mobility reducing attacks could land on him.

'The hell? These guys are everywhere!

A violent flapping of wings behind would catch his attention, looking up to see a Mandibuzz swooping low to catch him with her talons. Purple energy encased his claws as he jumped and sliced the ensuing talons with his trademark Night Slash before they could snatch him up, causing the Pokémon to swerve into a wall.

"Not today, sister!"

Cackling to himself, Roark made a sharp right and jumped over multiple fence-like wooden boards to his escape route. Despite this, the constant pitter patter of footsteps around him said it all - freedom wasn't gonna come cheap.

'Okay, okay… let's see if those items I stole a while back still work.'

Digging into his messy mane of dark fur, he uncovered a good selection of battle items. Clutched in his claws was an old looking Blast Seed, a dented Luminous Orb, and a black hued seed supposedly called a Doom Seed - the latter of which he knew nothing about, except the fact that the Pokemon he nabbed it from was pretty eager to let him take it.

Whether or not these items were suitable for his current situation, he didn't think about it too hard.

Hopping over another wooden board, a large group of guards on both sides were there to finally catch him. However, the fox's speed seemed too much for them to handle, as the Zoroark shot past them in a blur, throwing an assortment of items behind him.

Roark never looked back, but could hear the muffled explosion of a Blast Seed exploding, a pulsing noise from the Luminous Orb doing its blinding magic, and another thunderous detonation that appeared to fit the 'doom' of the Doom Seed.

"Haha! Eat on that, sucke-"

Freezing beams of ice interrupted his victorious taunt, slamming into the ground near him and encasing his hind paws in thick ice. He attempted to budge out of his frozen prison, with little success.

"Really? I'd rather take some of your paralysis junk than-"

He was yet again cut off by a Sawk guard tackling him, wrestling him to the ground and breaking off the icy restraints. A brief scuffle between both parties would ensue as other guards began to run in and assist the Fighting-type.

'Not like this, foxboy!'

Realizing his impending capture, a thought cropped up in his mind, and he put all his faith into it. Quickly reaching into his mane, he pulled out the last orb he had - a Knockback Orb. Smashing it onto the cobblestone road released a shockwave of pink energy that blew back all the Pokemon surrounding him.

'Now's my chance!'

He ran away with his all his might before the guards could recover, going so far as to cross into the busy streets and spring himself off wagons and food carts. Still, the chase went on, and he beginning to grow tired of it. But there was less of them each time he managed to get away.

This would all come to an end soon.

Swinging off street lamps and other poles, he glanced back to see only two Pokemon left running after him - a normal Dewott guard, and that Bisharp from before, the black cape of the Rescue Society flapping behind it. Surprisingly, the Dewott stopped in its tracks, pulling off the rifle attached to its back and taking aim at the escaping Zoroark.

Roark watched in perpetual shock. 'There's no way! Are they really going to-'

The weapon then fired, its rain of bullets and gunpowder striking the alley walls, as the Bisharp had pushed the rifle away from its target just in time. From what Roark could hear behind him, the Bisharp began scolding the Dewott for its actions.

Whatever commotion there was, he used it to his advantage, fleeing into the alley shadows to blend in and finally escaping the clutches of the Verdure guards. He smacked his back against a wall, sliding down it and breathing in and out after the exhausting chase across the city.

'Hah… guess I gotta count my blessings for that Bisharp's save.'

The Zoroark wasn't sure why the Steel-type halted his untimely demise, but he accepted it nonetheless, as today was a small victory in the sea of failures. Once his small break was finished, he safely inched his way back home, sneaking around the constant patrols that were sent out looking for him.

Each day he worried of them finding where he was hiding out, and busting down the door to drag him off, never to see daylight again.

'Tomorrow has to give answers, or I'm not sure I'll make it to see them in the future…'

Everything he had been building up to with his life of crime in Verdure weighed on that small glimpse of hope he could find tomorrow - purpose.

'This is it. I need this win right now.'

Here he was, near the entrance to the Whipped Winds Air Delivery Services. It was a small rectangular building located near the outskirts of the city, where the greenery and sprouting golden wheat merged with the wood and stone buildings. White wing-like structures were built around the building's sides, now crumbling due to age and lack of repair.

It was a dying business, but it was the only one that would accept his services, and home to the only Pokémon he could truly call a friend. Roark found solace in the broken wings, staring up at the gray overcast shrouding that layer of doubt in his heart.

'Old man, you better have at least somethin' for me…'

With a quick glance at his surroundings, he entered through the double doors. It was dark inside, the entrance lobby holding no Pokémon to greet him. The fox remembered the first time he entered this place, where it was bustling with customers and Flying-type aces that could find anything and anyone.

Things could change so swiftly for him, and this place was no different.

Roark found the staircase, slowly walking up the steps as his heart pounded like a drum from a mix of anticipation and fear. As he took the last steps up, a lone door at the end of the hall would draw him closer towards it. He wrapped his claws around the door's knob, breathing in and out. Once his calming exercises were over, he bit the bullet and twisted the knob, entering the stuffy new room.

From the looks of it, it was an old attic converted into a modestly sized bedroom, fitted with a bed and several dusty drawers. A window to the outside world brought in its dreary pale light, providing life to a white wallflower held inside a flower pot resting on the windowsill.

But Roark's eyes were fixated on the Pokémon sleeping in the bed, softly stepping on the creaky floorboards of the room to observe it sleep. It was an Unfezant, a rather old one according to the raspy breaths it gave out as it slept.

"Hey, old man, wake up."

An impatient claw batting the Flying-type's red wattle would cause him to grumble out some unintelligible words, stirring in his blanket as the bird cracked open his baggy eyes to see a smirking Zoroark kneeling by his bedside.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Fez." Roark chuckled. "I didn't disturb you from your coffin too early now, did I?"

Unfezant blinked. "R-roark…?" He coughed suddenly. letting out his own grizzled chuckle. "I assume you're here to pay your respects?"

"Hah, not today, friend. I'm here to see what happened with the twenty Pokémon I paid to send to each major city on the other continents. Something has to have turned up, right?"

"…"

Unfezant went silent, only to position himself up right a moment later with a groan. He shakily pointed the tip of his wings to a dresser in the corner of the room.

"That dresser… In the top drawer - I want you to have what's inside it."

"Ah, giving me your family's ancient bird relic or something? Trust me, I'll take good care of it for ya."

The fox strode over to the dresser, pulling it outward and nabbing the cloth sack found inside. It jingled with the clinking of metal pieces and was quite hefty. His curiosity got the better of him as he opened the bag, finding heaps of Poké inside - it struck him.

This bag was the exact amount of payment he gave to Unfezant for the twenty fliers.

Roark turned, juggling the sack. "This some sort of joke, Fez? This is the money I gave you for the trips."

"… I know, and I want you to take it back."

The fox squinted his gaze, "Have you seen this dump? I think you need the money more than I do, okay?" He scoffed. "Besides, when did you become so charitable all of a sudden?"

"Because, it's pointless for us to do this anymore."

"What's pointless?"

Unfezant sighed, trying to find the right words. "I sent them out again like you asked… and all of them came back with the same knowledge - nothing." The bird locked eyes with the fox. "Nobody knows of a 'mon named 'Gloria' across every city or continent we've ever flown to."

Roark marched back to the bed, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, can't be, Fez. Your guys didn't search hard enough. There has to be someone else that came-"

"Listen to me, Roark… You need to accept that the Pokémon you think is out there waiting for you… isn't."

The man's words sparked anger within the fox as Roark leaned over the bed and tapped his head with a claw. "Don't you remember that this is the only possible connection I have to my old life? There's nothing else inside my noggin', 'cause ole Arceus decided to throw me a curveball in the memory department!"

"And so you'll search the ends of the earth for scraps of clues? You've gone so far as to become a petty thief in order to secure funds for these little gambles of yours..."

Roark scowled, standing back and splaying his arms. "This… is all I have! What other purpose do I have on this rock? Drinking and sulking about the past I could be living instead of being here?"

"Your purpose is not mine to say, nor is anyone's. You've chosen this path - one that I don't think will lead you anywhere from what I've seen.."

"And you think I can just have a fresh start just like that?!" Roark grinded his teeth. "I didn't ask for things to end up so broken inside my head! I didn't want to sit down and just think about who's missing from my life. I didn't know…" He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. "That things would end up this bad for me."

Unfezant averted his attention to the windowsill, watching the flower in the pot dance with the tiny motes that gathered around the rays of cascading light. The soul that was lost before was still lost now, and he could offer no guidance like before from his 'coffin', as the fox had so eloquently put it.

"Is this your purpose, Roark? To find this Pokémon? Do you think everything will just flood back into your mind if you manage to find her?"

Roark followed the bird's gaze, striding past the bed and towards the window. He inspected the wallflower, flicking its white petals with a claw as he listened to Unfezant once more.

"My purpose has been fulfilled already. Through teaching so many young chicks how to fly like a pro, to starting this, well, unfortunately bust business here. I've flown with the best, and even with the Shaymin up north one lucky day." The Pokémon went into another coughing fit. "I've… had my failures and my victories."

The Zoroark grimaced, nearly snapping the stem of the flower from his grip on it. "So, when do I start winning, huh? Since the day I woke up, I've always been… losing."

"The day you let go of this... dream... might be the day you realize your true purpose."

"I… I made a promise, y'know."

"And promises are sometimes broken. You know that."

Roark stared out the window, searching the city's sprawling urban landscape for a purpose - his purpose. Despite everything he's done so far to find this 'Gloria', the case would always be cold, and his mind left with more confusion than before.

He saw no purpose in the window to his future.

"You found me, old man… so don't think I'll forget you when you're gone."

"It's not so easy to say goodbye, but it must always come."

"Yeah…"

Roark swung open the door to his apartment - a gift of a much healthier Unfezant of the past. The smell of musk and stale air from inside was there to greet his arrival back.

'Home sweet home.'

It was the day after he had visited the dying Flying-type, and a few hours since he attempted another robbery for Poké, to no success due to the constant guard patrols. His efforts ended in another chase through the streets; he escaped it, but deep down knew that luck wasn't always on his side.

His time was almost up.

Sluggishly crashing on a couch that smelled of mildew, he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep away his frustrations. However, the weight forming in his chest at the looming future proved that rest would never come.

'Damn. What to do in this dump…'

Cracking open his tired lids, he scanned the barren and boring contents of his small room. A messy stack of papers caught his eye - his past attempts of searching for 'Gloria', the second name he had heard upon awakening. But after contemplating it for a while, he instead focused his attention on a sole glass bottle resting on a table in the middle of the quarters.

The unopened Perfect Apple whiskey he took from that Snivy the other day.

'Ole reliable, I guess…'

Rising from the couch, he snatched the bottle and opened his front door, leaving his apartment and checking his surroundings as always. Once the coast was clear, the fox meandered up the stairs that led to the building's stone roof. The complex was the tallest building in Verdure, and its rooftop was his favorite place to drink.

Opening the metal ceiling hatch at the end of the stairwell, he climbed up its ladder, now on the very top of the entire building.

'Maybe I just needed a little pick me up.'

Twisting open the cap of the alcoholic beverage, he took a swig as he trudged over to his usual spot, feeling the delightfully burning liquor torch his throat as it went down. Alongside the edge of the rooftop is where he stopped, taking in the view of the entire city around him.

'Nothin' beats this - that's for sure.'

Beams of orange and pinkish light from the setting sun struck the wooden and stone buildings below, also casting a warm glow over the vast open fields stretching the outskirts of Verdure. The Pokemon that inhabited the world beneath him seemed like tiny Durants, scurrying through street corners in one collective colony of society.

And of course, he could also spot the numerous patrols on the lookout for him and others.

Roark took another big sip of his bottle, getting a good look at the impressive sights all around him. Already he could feel the effects of the liquor creeping in, blurring the sickness he felt inside with something new - clarity.

'This world is so damn big… and I'm so damn small.' He squeezed his eyes shut. 'I promised, but I can't even find you on my own without digging myself deeper and deeper into this shit…'

Another massive gulp of the fiery liquid went down.

'Gloria… I don't even know who you are. If you're my mom, my sister, a friend, or even anything to me. But you've kept me afloat this long, whoever you are.'

The fox went to take another gulp, only to find that he downed the entirety of it already. His grip on it almost shattered the glass as he sighed, shaking his head.

'You're a cruel mistress, world…'

His perception of his immediate surroundings was slightly blurry, but a few blinks set him straight as he clambered on top of the roof's edges, almost stumbling. He stood, glancing at the massive drop below and the empty glass still clutched in his claws.

'Guess it's goodbye, friend. Sayonara.'

The bottle was let go, its purpose finished.

Roark watched it fall into the abyss, before returning his shaky vision back to the lowering sun. A chilly wind of the approaching dusk swept through the roof, coursing through the Zoroark's fur. It was a nice and calming feeling, which sparked something emotional inside.

Sadness - extreme sadness at everything, and he didn't know why. Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't wipe them, his hind paws adjusting themselves on the edges as he took silent yet shaky deep breaths.

'I hope you're living your best life out there, Gloria…'

He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that made him slip, but now he was falling.

A furious gale shot through Roark's fur, his useless body plummeting faster and faster towards the ground below; getting one last glimpse at all the glittering city lights accompanying this liberating feeling. For some odd reason, he wasn't scared of what came next, the consequences of his actions that he was now descending to meet.

Halfway down, and nothing mattered anymore.

'Yeah, this is fine…'

Further and further he went, but as he neared his journey's end, all he could think about was how much better the view was from this far down. Closing his eyes, he let fate take control once and for all, colliding into the earth, taking his resolve with him.

"… Ngh..."

"He's waking up! Tell Bisharp and the others immediately!"

"I'll alert the commander as well!"

Roark stirred in his sleep, groaning at the constant shouts and sounds of shuffling gear around him. Reluctantly, he cracked open a eye, wincing at the rush of pain that flooded his nerves. He felt a soft cloth pillow beneath his neck, along with a sense of constriction throughout his limbs.

"Wha… the hell?"

He slowly lifted up his pounding head, glancing down to see gauze and other bloody wrappings adorning his arms and legs. It hurt to breathe, and he could barely move from the bed he was resting on.

"Where… What is this…"

Opaque walls encased him in this room, already giving him the knowledge of where exactly he was. Both guards of Verdure and members of the Rescue Society congregated at the only door that led out, keeping a wary stare on the incapacitated Zoroark.

Strangely, some held worried or sympathetic looks.

"Huh, that hangover must've carried me all the way to my capture," he weakly joked to himself.

An opening of the door sent the Pokémon scattering to the room's sides, making way for a Bisharp wearing a harness and a black cape to enter. Its attention immediately snapped to Roark, marching over to rest a gauntlet on the hospital bed.

"It's good to see that you have awakened - we were worried your injuries were too servere. Tell me, how do you feel right now, son?"

"Like shit." Roark spat out, glaring daggers at the Steel-type. "Just get your little victory speech out now and throw me into whatever dumpy prison you'd like."

Bisharp kept his gaze on the fox. "Do you… remember what happened a few nights ago?"

"Remember?" The fox coughed. "The hell you talkin' about?"

"You fell quite a long fall from those rooftops, and you're very lucky that Pokémon have such strong resistance to punishment."

"Yeah… real lucky."

"How old are you, son?"

"Twenty, I think. I don't know…"

Bisharp was greatly shocked. "You don't even know how old you are? You must have been on these streets for a long time, haven't you?"

"Long enough to know that my days were over, and I just… didn't see it coming before it hit me right then and there."

"Did you do it… on purpose?"

"…"

Bisharp nodded, waving an arm behind him, motioning for a plea of privacy. The command was recognized as each Pokémon exited the room, leaving only two behind. "Let's start over. I'm Bisharp, the sole supervisor of the Rescue Society. I'm sure you're well aware of us, and our attempts to capture you."

Roark let out a sore chuckle. "Well, you can call this washed up outlaw Roark, tin head."

The Steel-type raised a curious brow, "You have a name, son? Not many Pokémon choose to take up one."

"Guess I'm a special case."

Silence set in, Bisharp digging through the pockets of his front harness to apply bandages to the fox's crumpled frame. Roark observed him do so in bemusement, a thought popping up in his mind.

"Why did you save me back then…"

Bisharp looked up, "What was that, son?"

"When you and the guards were chasing me through the alleys, you stopped that Dewott from shooting me. Why did you?"

"Because… even a thief like you doesn't deserve to die."

"Really now…"

Bisharp tied another loose wrapping in his gauze. "We didn't come here just to capture, but to help you readjust with society after we did."

"… What?"

"It's true, son. The Rescue Society isn't just about saving Pokemon from natural disasters or conflicts. It's about saving Pokemon from all situations, regardless of their background."

Roark soaked in his words, unsure of what he should feel. Happy that he wouldn't rot in a cell for the rest of his life, or angry at the fact that he was still in this realm, listening to the pride spouting Pokemon.

"So, what - you're gonna fix me up, then dump me off in the streets again? Who says I don't just try and do the same thing that kept me going?"

Bisharp locked eyes with him, "I want you… to join us."

"You're joking. Me?"

"Yes, and as soon as you recover, I will train you just the same as every other Pokémon."

"What makes you think a has-been thief would be a good addition to your goody little two shoes club?"

Bisharp chuckled at his disbelieving comment. "Son, I see things that typical Pokémon don't. You may not see it after what you've done, but there's always a purpose that you can fulfill in this world."

Roark thought about all the options on the table right now, and how little they paled in comparison to joining forces with the Rescue Society. He could shed his criminal past and have the opportunity to explore an entire world that was alien to him.

It was the opportunity to find more clues about his missing past.

"You went through quite a lot of effort to just hand me a resume, didn't you?" The fox let out a chuckle himself, finding the strength to lift a single claw from his blanket. "Well, consider this job accepted, tin head…"

Bisharp smirked, wrapping his gauntlet around the claw and shaking it. "It's a pleasure to have you aboard, Roark."

The 'Illusionless Thief' was no more.

"Roark! Bisharp is giving the order to rendezvous with the other team and give them the all clear!" a Feraligatr yelled.

"On it!"

Roark released the rope from his harness and unhooked his claws from the volcano's rocky slopes, sliding down to meet the squad of Water-types. The hardy team fought off the continuous streams of magma pouring out of the mountain's surface with powerful spouts of water, cooling them into a solid instantly.

"Tell that tin man I'll be back in five minutes flat!"

"Haha! You got it, pal!"

Smirking, the Zoroark sprinted on all fours away from the team's ongoing battle with flowing lava. He curved a bend, expertly dodging the occasional piece of lava rock that tumbled off the quaking cliffs.

'Feels like this whole thing's about to blow, so we better act quick.'

Hastening his speed, the fox approached a wall impeding his path and wasted no time in tossing the rope attached to his harness over it. The beautiful daggers he called his claws were good enough to impale themselves into the stone, giving him the ability to climb up. Once his vantage point was secure, he scoured the reddish surface of the volcano in search of the others.

'Aha! Maybe I can pull it off after all…'

Mentally counting down in his head, he traversed at a rapid pace, reaching them in a matter of seconds. Another wave of a molten rock was spilling out from the ground, and the second team of Water-types were standing by for orders.

"Hey, you lot! Bisharp said to do it now!"

Heeding the shouts of the fox, the combined force of aquatic attacks dispelled the invading sea of lava into nothing more than steam and hot solidified stone.

Roark sighed in relief, "Good! Now, if Bisharp's team pulls it off, then this volcano isn't erupting anytime soon!"

As the team made their way back to camp, Roark instead wanted to wait near the entrance of the Mystery Dungeon that Bisharp and his men entered. Along the way there, he noticed the rattling of the volcano seemed to mellow out, until fading completely.

'Never doubt the master, I guess…'

Nearing the pitchblack gateway of the Mystery Dungeon that led into the volcano itself, he leapt atop a nearby hill and began to plot up a fun little prank to pull on the leaving Steel-type. He waited for about ten minutes, thinking about giving up on the plot until exhausted members of the Rescue Society exited the shadow one by one.

'Showtime!'

Utilizing his illusion trickery, the fox focused on replicating the form of a Legendary Pokemon he once read about - Entei. In a flash of bright white light, his appearance was altered into a menacing beast of a Pokémon.

'Perfect. Now…'

Bisharp was last to exit, too distracted with refitting his harness to notice the hulking frame of an Entei bounding towards him. It wasn't until the very real sounding conjuration landed right beside him that Bisharp noticed, collapsing to the floor in shock.

"Gah!" The Steel-type couldn't believe his eyes. "E-Entei?!"

"BISHARP OF THE RESCUE SOCIETY! AFTER DISRUPTING MY ERUPTION, I AM HERE TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR YOUR GRIEVANCES!"

Bisharp suddenly recognized the suave voice of the trickster mixed in with the bombastic yelling. "… Roark? Is that you, son?"

The Entei illusion began to bellow with laughter, before a flash of white consumed its body. A Zoroark emerged from the blinding light, reaching an arm out for the fallen Pokémon to grab.

"Got you good for a second, old man."

Bisharp stared for a brief moment, accepting the assistance and standing up. "That you did, son." He chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake getting you taught on how to use your illusion powers."

"But then who would take my place as the prankster of the team?"

"You pose a good question."

They walked and talked the long trek back to camp, discussing the fine details of their success in halting the eruption of the Basalt Bonfire Volcano, which threatened to annihilate a small village of Dragon-types near the bottom of the mountain.

Bisharp unrolled his map of Celestic, tapping their location. "Since our business here in the Mountain Region is finished, in about a month, we'll head straight to the neighboring Frost Region for our last mission on Celestic."

Roark groaned. "Another snowy area? Is there some giant icicle we need to smash or what?"

"No. There's a massive snow shelf on the Glacier Peak Mountains that resides by the village of Kyuris, which it poses a threat to. We need to assist the local rangers there, the Glacier Guiders, in safely defusing the situation."

"Should we secure a perimeter? In case the village 'mons are in a potential blast zone?"

Bisharp nodded, tucking the map away in his saddlebags. "I'll go over specifics when we arrive, but this is yet another important operation."

"Yeah, just wait until Spinda starts yapppin' on about- ah!"

Arcs of blue and yellow spirals shot across the Zoroark's vision, causing him to kneel from the spike of electrifying pain that accompanied it. Bisharp knelt down immediately, placing a gauntlet on the now hyperventilating Pokémon.

"Are you okay, son?"

"Yeah, yeah… I'm… fine." Roark managed to stand, blinking away his blurry eyesight. "It's just… I don't know what the hell causes that to happen. It's been doing that ever since I woke up that day."

Bisharp was the only Pokémon he confided his past to in the Rescue Society. After being there for roughly ten years, the fox began to see the Steel-type more as a mentor or father figure. Someone like Unfezant who actually cared for his wellbeing.

"You are a strange case, Roark. But don't that let deter you from achieving your goals and purpose." Bisharp remembered the emboldened words he spoke long ago. "Even now, I still know you're looking for her."

Roark looked down, sighing. "C'mon, old man, let's instead get back to base and start brainstorming ideas on how to tackle this big pile of snow, okay?"

"Ha! I think you've got the right idea." Bisharp walked ahead, sending a glance back while he did so. "Keep up the tenacity, Roark! Someday, you might find yourself taking my place!"

"Yeah…"

As the caped leader departed the sweltering land, Roark dug into the saddlebags connected to his harness in search of something. Feeling his metal flask, he fished it out and twisted open its cap, already smelling the apple fermented aroma that arose from the container - Perfect Apple Whiskey, his favorite.

'At least I got you, old friend…'

The fox took a hearty swig of the flask, feeling the familiar burn in the back of his throat. When he was finished with consuming the powerful liquor, he popped the cap back on, but kept the flask clutched in his claws. He swished arounds its contents, trying to push away thoughts of that dreaded day.

'You've gotten me in a lot of trouble, but It's still my dumb choice in the end, isn't it?'

'Pray to Arceus this works, or I'm just wasting some of my precious elixir here.'

Roark grabbed his torn saddlebag, ripping apart the cloth from it and taking out his flask of whiskey. He popped the cap open and then slowly began to pour some of it on the pieces of cloth. Hoping his memory served correct, he grabbed the damp pieces of cloth and tossed them into the dying campfire.

The scraps settled upon the smoldering charcoal, before combusting into yellow flames and flying bits of orange cinder. The Zoroark raised his arms in victory, scooting closer to the now blazing fire, careful not to let his black cape get close.

'Haha! Now Bisharp can't tell me I wasn't listeni- ooh!' He scooted back just a bit after feeling his fur get singed. 'Oh, yeah, gotta watch out for those invisible flames.'

Stealing a glance over at his right, he observed the sleeping form of the Vulpix he had rescued from the destroyed cabin. Luckily, her legs weren't seriously injured from the wooden beams that encased her in. And after the girl passed out, he was able to scoop her out of the debris, carrying her off to a nearby alcove that shielded the two from the wintery elements.

'Might have to rebandage her in a bit, but she might need more rest.' He scowled, recalling the previous hour of events. 'Fuck. I really hope all that shaking up top wasn't an avalanche, 'cause then we're gonna have a serious problem.'

His duty throughout this operation was to keep a perimeter around the mountain, and act as a recon over the many checkpoints that the Glacier Guiders created. But after a series of loud rumblings and quakes throughout the mountain, the rope he was using to keep himself connected to the cliffs snapped, stranding him in the middle of a freezing wasteland.

And if that wasn't bad enough, now he had to escort a lost little girl back to her parents. All in all, he had a lot on his plate currently. But now that he had a moment of calm before the eventual storm, his thoughts shifted to the suggestion that Bisharp gave him on their trip here.

The possibility of Roark leading the Rescue Society in the Steel-type's absence.

Roark watched the flames of the campfire crackle. 'Maybe it is time for me to climb up the totem. Bisharp's getting old, and I'm not gettin' any younger myself, either. But being a leader to all those heroic 'mons? Man, not sure I even have the heart to-'

A grunt to his right shattered his mind's back and forth, returning his sights back to the white Vulpix, who was now stirring in her sleep. He watched patiently as the kit let out more soft murmurs, before her blue orbs would bat open and drowsily analyze her foreign environment.

"Wha… where…" Vulpix's chest tightened as fear gripped her. "M-Mom? Dad?"

"Hey, kid."

Vulpix gasped, attempting to scramble up to her paws. However, a stinging pain in her sides would force her back to the ground, making her look up to see the image of a Zoroark sitting crisscrossed near a campfire. If she was frightened before, her anxiety was reaching new levels.

"W-Who a-are you?" she uttered. "Where's… where's my mom and dad?!"

"Calm down, kid, your memory isn't up to speed." Roark rose from his position, jabbing a claw at himself. "I'm from the Rescue Society, and I just saved you from a house wreckage close by." He motioned to the stone walls around them. "After that, I found a tiny little cave for you to warm up and let your wounds heal."

Vulpix seemed to simmer down just a bit, still looking around. "Are we... are we safe?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be fine. Once you're all healed up, I'm gonna take you back to your parents - you got that?" The kit slowly nodded, but Roark wanted to know more about what exactly happened. "Do you think you can tell me what happened before you passed out?"

She blinked, from both confusion and shock at her lack of recollection. "I… I don't remember! All I remember is going to sleep in my bed and waking up here!"

'It must've been too traumatizing for her to remember. Poor fucking kid…'

Roak sharply inhaled, "Well, maybe we'll learn more about what happened along the way." He sat down, directly in front of Vulpix. "Since we might be together for a bit, you can call me Roark, or 'R', as some of my buddies call me, heh."

Vulpix tilted her head, "Roark…? Like, Zo… roark?"

"Uh, yeah!"

She managed a small smile. "That's, um, kind of silly. But I like it!"

"Much appreciated." Roark stood up again. "You rest here - I'm gonna assume the cabin you came down the mountain with is yours, and I'll try and recover any small belongings we can take back."

"The… the cabin? You mean..."

She whirled around, peering out of the cavern entrance to see a mangled mess of wood and broken glass that was her home. She ignored her injuries and ran out in an adrenaline fueled hurry, desperately trying to reach the destroyed lodge.

"Kid, wait!"

Roark was just behind her, growling obscenities under his breath as he trudged through the snow. It was a short lived chase, which ended once the Zoroark caught her at the cabin's ruins, attempting to brush away bits of wood and uncover the place she used to call home.

"Kid, your injuries - you can't be out here!" He attempted to drag her back with a paw, but found the crying Vulpix forcing her way out of his hold.

"M-My… my house!" She sniffled, sobbing loudly. "Why is it destroyed?! W-What happened?!"

"I don't know, but… we're gonna find out, alright?"

"But… I w-want my home back!" she screamed uselessly, stomping an upset paw into the snow.

All the memories the Vulpix had in the cabin growing up were now gone. Her first words, the first book she read, learning how to cook from her mother, playing with friends - all of it reduced to rubble before her.

Roark sucked in his emotions, gently patting the young kit on the back. "… It's just a house, kid." He was able to finally pull her away from the wreckage. "I know it's hard seeing this, but trust me when I tell you that your well-being is more important to your mom and dad than some house."

"B-But…"

"Please, go back and rest - you need it."

"O-okay…"

A choked up Vulpix began to trot back to the warm cave, struggling to hold back more tears as she did so. Roark watched her go, closing his eyes and holding his head high.

'Damn, I feel like such an asshole doing that, but I had to.'

It was just another day in the Rescue Society.

Digging into his saddlebags, he retrieved his flask of whiskey and took a comforting sip. It was a long journey until a refill, and he knew it wasn't gonna be smooth sailing all the way through.

'I wish I didn't just have this pit in my stomach at the thought of what exactly happened to that little girl.' He brought his gaze back down to the flask he was holding, swishing around the calming yet troubling liquid held inside. 'Fulfill your purpose, old friend, and I'll fulfill mine here.'

Roark took another gulp.

Take a swig of your life's constant failures and setbacks, and find yourself falling… without purpose.

Want to discuss anything related to The Phantasmagoria with the author himself? If so, send a friend request to my Discord linked below!

Discord: z2h2z

Next Special Episode Part: I Remember A Name