Ascension

"I don't know when I first had the dream. I was young, very young, so it was a very, very long time ago. I lost track after the first few millennia.

I don't remember my family, or my home. They're long, long gone. But I remember the first dream. I was alone, in a starless, moonless, sunless field. There was nothing beneath my feet but scorched earth, where I knew nothing had ever grown. In the center of that field was a tower, one reaching beyond the limits of my pitiful sight. Never changing, never shifting, a single spire striking eternally into the heavens 

In the dream, I ran away. I fled. The tower behind me, I ran as far as I could, and when I stopped, I had returned to the tower. I tried again, and was back at the tower again. After the third time, I realized I could not leave. So I entered, instead. There was nothing inside, nothing but the stairs. I woke up.

The next time I had the dream, I began climbing. I started to take each step, one at a time. I could see up the middle of the tower, but the top faded into nothing as I climbed. I don't know how long I climbed until I woke up. But when I had the dream again, I was there, where I had stopped.

This went on. Nothing changed in the waking world, but the dream would come to me every few weeks, and I would keep climbing. In time, I realized I could no longer see the base of the tower. Within the dream, there was only me, and the stairs ascending and descending. And then one day, I realized something.

What would happen when I reached the top.

I froze when I thought of that. This tower had a base. Should it not have a top? I laid there for dream after dream, unwilling to climb higher. I feared, more than anything else, the day that the tower was no longer endless in my sight. For what then? True, I could climb down, but it would not save me from the unbearable knowledge of the top.

What would be atop it? Would it be the God who consigned me to this eternal dream and eternal life? Would it be a Devil who had done the same? Would not any devil who accomplished this be a God, and any God who would visit this suffering upon a mortal be a Devil? Or would there be nothing? The knowledge that this dream had carried me up here for unfathomable lengths solely for its own completion?

I agonized for years, until I began climbing again. Because though the terror of what could be still awaited me, the terror of not climbing, of not doing what I had done for so long, was growing worse.

Whenever I have that dream, I continue to climb. I still cannot see the peak of the tower, or the base. 

I don't know how long I will continue to live. Perhaps thousands of years. Perhaps millions. Perhaps I am truly and completely eternal, and I will live as the universe dies around me, until I am alone in an infinite void. And in that void, I will sleep, and I will dream

If there is any justice, any mercy, then in that dream I will still be climbing."

Home on the Range

 THE TOWN OF NEW DEADWOOD

Despite the location in the middle of the Ulimaroan badlands, New Deadwood had shown itself to be more resilient than some people had expected. There was a growing, steady population. Sure, it was only about seventy people at the moment, but for a town that had only been founded a few months ago, with the express purpose of trying to recapture a time long ago, it was impressive.

Riding through the gates, Johnny McGraw takes in the sights of the main street. It hadn't looked like much when he first planted a flag, but now everything from a saloon to an inn dotted the central street, with a few bunkhouses tucked behind for people to sleep. If he had the time today, he'd have gladly spent hours just observing the whole town, seeing it go about its day. He had a job to complete, though, so Johnny rides up to the stable. Tying off his horse, he starts to head for the large, central building - Town Hall.

As he expected, when he gets close, a huge, beefy figure shifts to block the door.

"Nobody passes without the boss's say-so." 

"Don't mess around, Asterion. It's me, McGraw."

"Doesn't matter. No say-so, no pass."

"Listen. I'm glad David's got someone stubborn to watch out for him, but we don't need to play games. I got a report for him."

"McGraw, you know the rules. Unless the boss-"

"Awww, just let him in!" comes a loud, rollicking voice from the inside. Asterion grunts and shifts aside, Johnny tipping his hat and walking in. A sense of dismay rose up as soon as he heard that voice, and the sight of the two men inside the meeting room confirms it.

"Well, here we are! Johnny, you're back, and I'm sure you've got some good news for me!"

Boss Davenport, the man who'd bankrolled David's wild plan. He'd presented himself as just a man who wanted to bring back the wild west, but Johnny had his suspicions. Nobody did something for nothing.

"What's the news, Johnny?"

David Hill, on the other hand, was a man McGraw would trust with his life. He still would, their days as the cowboy thieves running through Los Angeles never far from his mind. But at the same time, it had been a long time since the two of them had been together, after David's stint in prison. On some level, Johnny wasn't sure if David was the same man from twelve years ago. On the other hand, he wasn't sure if he was the same man, after his own experiences.

Questions he didn't want to ask himself, and so he let them lie. Instead, it was time to report.

"No argite there, either. It's looking more and more like it's only in Argo and the general vicinity. Quite a ways from New Deadwood."

"Well, what about other stuff?" asks Boss Davenport.

"It looked pretty clean to me. We might be able to make use of it with some heavy technology - radar, deep scans, that sort of thing - but surface level? There's nothing much there."

"Well we can't just have that!" Davenport says, frustration evident in his voice. "New Deadwood's gotta be self-sufficient! That means resource extraction! What, do you want this little experiment to go the way of the Dry Country?"

"I think we're better situated." says David. "It's not like we're dependent on any particular income yet. Most of New Deadwood's just our own funds, and we've got plenty left."

"I, for one, don't want to throw my money down a hole forever. We need to start locating the long-term investments that can be found around here. For the good of the project, of course. New Deadwood is something I want to see succeed as much as you two do."

"For now..." David says. "Let's talk about a couple other options. The two of us. Sorry, Johnny, but do you mind?"

Getting dismissed like this hurt. But at the same time, while it hurt more coming from David, it was only the fact that David asked that got him to play along - Johnny would have told Davenport to shove it. So he simply nods and rises to his feet, exiting the hall as David starts posing long-term ideas to Davenport.

Maybe he'd see how the new saloon was coming along.

A Day at the Links

 THE ARGO MUNICIPAL GOLF COURSE

Ah, the golf course. There really was a lot of empty badlands out there. Why not use it for something? As we saw last year. Katharina Richter has made it to the driving range, needing some time away from Ulimaroa Central and indulging it with the links. She looks over the driving range, currently painted in beautiful stripes of a grayscale gradiant that extends back to the farthest targets.

"Huh. I wonder which artist did this one."

Putting it out of her mind as an expected consequence of golf in Argo, Katharina drops a ball and sets up her club. Shamelessly latching on with all four arms to provide increased force, Katharina draws back for her backswing, and-

"RUMBLE BUDDY!" 

"GYAH!?"

Katharina's swing goes completely off course, and she clips herself in the side with her golf club. As she stumbles and her arms discoordinate, her mouth catches up.

"What in the everloving goddamn- oh, it's you."

Looking back and seeing Agent Carmine there, Katharina regains her compose and her self-control. She takes in the chipper, cheerful agent, clad in her golf outfit and bouncing on her heels. Next to her, Francine Fauvergue looks awkwardly at Katharina. "My apologies. She really wanted to say hi."

"Yeah! I mean, how could I possibly forget my cool Rumble buddy after all THAT, huh?" Carmine says, laughing a bit. "That was a hell of a showdown!"

"It certainly was, wasn't it." Katharina says.

"And now the Echolux is all hyped up about me! Heheh, maybe Margit will pick a fight? ...Would you have joined the Echolux if you won?" 

"I would not have. A fighting career is not really conductive to the image I want to project to Ulimaroa." 

"Excuse me, but in that case..." Francine asks. "Why join the Rumble?"

"It was a promotional stunt. A way to bring attention to the railroad companies through my personal appearance. Apparently, we've been getting increased attention since my second place finish. Though I think some of that is because I got out of hand."

"Don't put yourself down! You were SUPER cool out there!" Carmine says, grabbing Katharina's hands and shaking them with gusto. "And now I find you like golf too! What a great time!"

"I have to admit, though." Francine says, snickering a bit. "I didn't think about a four-sleeved golf shirt. I take it you need those custom-made?"

"Yes. And if you plan to buy me anything with a slogan and say I can't give it away because of the extra sleeves, I'll smack you."

"Heheh. Shame."

"Well, I hadn't thought about it, buuuut maybe I'll figure out when your birthday is!"

"Don't."

Katharina tries to give a grumpy stare to both women, but neither one seems that bothered by it. Carmine just pipes up again. "So! Wanna join us?"

"In what, golf?"

"Yep! We were about to start a round, but I saw you! I thought you'd love to come along! We're a whole Rumble team now!"

"I barely interacted with Katharina in the Rumble." Francine says. "I think we're less a Rumble team and more a two-ended trio. If that." 

"Agreed."

"Weellll that's still good enough! And we can MAKE it a golf buddies team of three with a good round, right? Right!" Carmine nods vigorously. "So! Come on!" Grabbing both Francine and Katharina by the arm, she starts dragging them towards the clubhouse to set up.

"Is she... always like this?" Katharina asks.

"She is. It really grows on you, though." 

"Hmmm. That reminds to be seen.

...I may as well give it a shot, though." 

ONE ROUND OF GOLF LATER

"That... was much more intense than I was expecting." Katharina says, looking down at her scorecard. She'd only come out third, while Carmine was in second, and a very smug-looking Francine in first. 

"Riiiight? See! It's a great time!" Carmine says, eagerly tossing her club from hand to hand. "It's funny, I picked up golf on a whim and I ended up thinking it was really fun. Isn't it cool how it works?"

"Hmm. And here I just took up golf to placate some of the business leaders I had to deal with when setting up Ulimaroa Central. It has admittedly turned out to be an effective way to settle deals. Though now I'm curious how a waitress becomes fond of golf."

"Ahaha, well." Francine laughs at the memory. "Whalestrand's Waitress, you know? Everyone paoches me, so for a few months I was working at the golf course's clubhouse. I did caddying for a few people as a side part, and took the chance to play some golf too, and... well, turns out it's not too bad when you're doing it with friends. And not a bunch of rich idiots."

"Hear hear!" Carmine says. "Plus, wilder courses!"

"That too. It's more fun when the course is a bit of a fight."

"Hmm. I suppose I still prefer long drives, though I'll admit to a bit of capability bias in that."

"A bit?" Francine says, giving Katharina a look of knowing what she's onto. 

"...Okay, a lot."

"Didn't do much on this course, though?" Carmine says.

"No, I suppose it didn't." Katharina shrugs. "Hitting it hard doesn't matter when badlands rock sends it skidding away into the distance. Maybe next time I'll do it with two arms held behind my back."

"Which two? Upper or lower?"

"I'd have to think." 

"Either way..." Francine says, trailing off as she takes in the sights of the golf course. "This was nice. I'd be fine with doing it again."

"I would as well." Katharina says. "I enjoyed my time with the two of you."

"I DID IT! Golf Buddies... REAL!" Carmine says, throwing her arms around the other two. "Okay! That means... we need to get drunk!!! Silver Neelsen told me that's the MOST important part of a really good round, and he's 105 and still golfing so he's onto something!" 

"You know something? That's a real good justification." 

"Indeed. I have nothing else to do tonight... I may dull my efficiency without an issue."

"Right! Off we go!" 

Carmine leads the way, Francine following and Katharina behind her. Seems like this little team will persist for a while longer.

Riders in the Sky

 THE WILDS OF ULIMAROA

Four horses ride by. The badlands vanish beneath their hooves, the horses thundering towards the middle of the desert. Johnny McGraw checks his watch - they were making good time, the rendezvous approaching quickly but the horses approaching quicker. One of his fellow riders pulls up alongside him, the horse moving a bit faster. 

"We're on track to get there faster than I thought. You think the town'll have something to do yet?"

"Doubt it." McGraw replies. Grant Mason was a skilled hand with a gun, and had a strong history as a county sheriff, yet he often got jittery when he sat around too long. It was going to be hard to keep the man satisfied until the town got more established. 

Cracking a slight smile, McGraw keeps his thoughts to himself. Yet here he was, the ex-thief and ex-con, working side by side with a sheriff. Well, it'd be worth it, if all went according to plan. Besides, Grant was one thing. It wasn't like he was working with that damn skunk, Jake Marshall.

"All I need's a good customer base. I'll be happy with that!" 

"What'll you even sell?" asks Johnny. 

"You know, the staples. Tools, guns, explosives..."

Knoq'oth was one of the more surprising members of their group, and had nearly spooked half the posse the first time he'd shown up following their messages. They'd eventually learned he was from a small group of aliens that had crashed in the Old West after a solar flare. Knoq'oth had "gone native", finding he enjoyed living among the humans and embracing their ways and clothes. Even after most of the aliens had left, he had remained, and chosen to stay as a cowboy.

As long lived as his species was, he'd simply kept it up to the present day, going about more openly after aliens became more accepted in the world. It had taken some discussion, but the posse had chosen to accept him in the crew.

"I think we should have enough people to get a store going now. Not sure about entertainment.

I can ask David when we get there to prioritize that next time. Movies, maybe?"

"No need to strain yourself." says Johnny. "I think we can make do without that."

"Nah, it's not a big problem. You know he'll listen to the two of us more than just you."

It was true, Johnny reflected. David Hill had been a changed man when he got out of prison the previous year. He'd contacted Johnny with his ideas, and the concept had sounded absurd. A cowboy town? There were many across the American West. 

Then he'd gone more into detail. Something more than a cowboy town. Something deeper and truer. Johnny still wasn't sure about how well this would work out, but he'd wanted to see how it played out. He was sure the same was true of everyone with him.

Especially the younger sister. Eliza Hill, the only other person besides his old partner who could convince David Hill of anything. At least she, like Johnny, was a grounded person. He was counting on Eliza to help him rein in David if it came to that.

At this, Johnny can't help but crack a smile. When had he become the grounded man, and David the dreamer? Times had changed a long time since Jake had broken them up. 

The four horses keep riding on, towards the town of dreams. Towards New Deadwood.

COMING SPRING 2026:

THE NEW WEST

It's Clever, but is it Art?

 ARGO, TRANSIT DEPOT #4

As the day slowly creeps to a close in one of the many small transit stations of Argo, people slowly file away. The transit depot in question didn't see much use except for work transport, and at nights, people tended to leave it be.

Which is why Petra Sideris, rogue artist of Argo, has shown up here, after close. Packing her paints and her brush, the rogue artist in question smirks as she opens the door of the transit depot, ready to paint over the blank, unassuming walls of the depot with plenty of fancy vistas of her own mind.

She stops short as she notices the functional signs. Normally nothing but directional guideposts, today they looked... different. Though the same information is retained, it's presented through loops and whorls, twisted vines and small waves transforming the signs into something much different than they were before. For objects where function begat form, form had reclaimed function.

And she recognizes that brushwork, Her eyes fall on the figure standing on a stepladder, reaching one of the signs and currently touching up the end of a vine. 

"Iroha!" Petra shouts, jabbing her paintbrush at the artist on the stepladder. The woman in question jumps down and turns to face her.

"Afraid I don't know who you mean!"

"Don't fuck with me, Iroha! What's the meaning of taking my new spot of inspiration away from me?"

"Already said, it's not Iroha! I've decided to change my name. Become a true artist! "Iroha Niijue.." What kind of a name for an artist is that? Sure, "Petra Sideris", that has a ring to it. People will buy your paintings.

I mean I don't see why they'd want to, but they will."

"Well? Out with it, then? Who's my new rival?"

"From now on, I am to be known entirely and only as... Mauve Vermillion! For I, myself, should be the rainbow I wish to bring to the world with my beautiful art!"

"That's less of a mess than I expected."

"Well, I did consider Mauve Azure Emerald Goldenrod Tangerine Vermillion. But I lost track the third time I said it to myself."

"Anyhow! That's beside the point, Iro- Mauve! This is my artistic inspiration! I had wonderful ideas for how to make those entering this transit depot feel as if they stepped out to the wide world, but how am I suppose to execute on them if you've already touched it up with your mess?"

"In that case, I've saved our city's fair commuters from a tragic fate. They come here to simply move through with their lives, with no interest in trying to stay in a transient location. Your art would be wasted here! 

My art, on the other hand, is perfect. I have once again created form out of function! These signs remain their normal self, yet now they brighten the day of those who see them, regardless of what those fussbodies at the transit department say!"

"Oh, they shot you down too?"

"Yes! They were insistent on "the signs need to remain communicative" and "they should be easy to read at a glance". What a stifling attitude! This is why the artistic mind is falling out of consciousness in our society.

I challenge everyone who views any piece of my art to think that art must be its own thing! We can make anything into art! An ornate fence can become art with a little work! Yet they insist on maintaining function, and function alone!"

"...On that, I still agree with you. But I can't possibly work here now. Your art... it detracts completely from the compositions I had in mind."

"I couldn't agree more! Your art would completely ruin the work I have set up here."

"Very well, then. But next time... Next time, I'm going to ensure you don't even get a chance to paint!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

With that, Petra Sideris departs the transit depot, while Mauve Vermillion continues to work on transforming the signs present in the station.

Two artists... so alike, and yet so unwilling to agree.

Art for Art's Sake

 ARGO UNION STATION

Argo Union Station. The largest and most impressive train station outside of Argo, connecting nearly every train line that comes into Argo from the outside, and also connected to the transportation system that's actually within the cave. The need to build outside the caves in order to tie these together means the station is always hot in the summer, and Fredrick Stapleton felt the air conditioning could only do so much.

Which is why, as he approaches the next train to review scheduling for, the man actually stops short. He chews on his cigar for a bit, trying to ponder exactly what he's looking at. Then he shrugs.

"That artist again." Fredrick comments, as he gazes upon a train dressed not in the usual livery of Ulimaroa Central, but a detailed replication of a seaside. "Well... maybe we can use it for the train to the coast."

After all, their experiences already told him the artist in question wouldn't care about rights or royalties...

------------------------------------------------

In a small apartment in Argo, Kennedy Wilson heads downstairs. He'd gotten here early, aiming for him and Cirral to get on the ground floor for the inevitable stories the Kobbers would bring. Stepping out of the building, he opens the door, and as soon as he does, steps out and turns around.

To his surprise, the door has been painted. It now resembles an industrial set of gears and cogs, a mechanical menace that jumps out the second you look at it. 

Asking around, Kennedy learns from a couple commentators that this was normal. A well-known rogue artist who traveled through Argo, painting anything anywhere that she wished. All he can think, as he finishes noting down another conversation, is that it sounds like there's a story here.

------------------------------------------------

Outside a warehouse, Grace Samiel whistles as she patrols, night having fallen upon Argo. Though daylight only came from one direction, and deeper in the cave like this it wasn't very visible, the artificial lighting systems that dominated the ceilings and walls were tuned to match the light of the sky. Areas like this that would be brightly lit at noon were now dim and lonely. 

Though in Grace's case, that just meant her job was more important. The woman had been hired by one of the local companies to guard their warehouse, and with her usual security jobs not necessary for various reasons, she'd taken it up to give herself something to do. Grace leans against the wall and shuts her eyes for a second... before hearing some noise.

Looking down, Grace sees a woman. A familiar one, with her paint-splattered smock and hat. Currently painting, no less, scribing a sunset scene onto the wall of the warehouse. Grace immediately shouts over. "PETRA!"

The artist, one Petra Sideris, looks up from her art with an air of occupation. "Grace Samiel." And with that simple acknowledgement of her accuser, Petra returns to painting, as Grace smacks her shield into the wall. "I've already told you, the company doesn't want you painting their walls!"

"They are bland and boring. What I am doing is nothing less than a public service for them."

"Just because some people put up with you randomly painting doesn't mean that everyone wants you redecorating the area!"

"Their thoughts are temporary. Art is perpetual."

"You never listen. Okay, I'm coming over there."

Grace starts to walk over towards Petra, only for the artist to put away her brush and paints... and produce a much larger brush, this one clearly not designed for painting. With a swing of the brush, she sends a bunch of paint towards Grace. Bringing up her large shield, Grace is able to keep the paint from covering her, but the distraction is enough that the artist has already gotten a good head start by the time Grace recovers.

As she watches Petra run off, Grace sighs. "What a hassle..." The guard turns and looks at the sunset scene. "...It is impressive, though."

Elsewhere, the artist in question comes to a stop. She pants, exhausted, before straightening up... and looking at another blank wall. She nods, a new scene coming to mind.

"An artist's work is never done."

Ulimaroa Central

 ERENVALE, ULIMAROA

The capital city of Ulimaroa, Erenvale. A seaside city that had thrived for years on trade, bringing the raw materials from within the country's heart to the shores and through ships across the world. Though the boom had made Argo its biggest city, and the rise of air transit meant many people now flew directly to Argo, the capital was still the main way the country of Ulimaroa traded with the world. As a result, the trains leading into the rest of the country remained the most important link it had.

And it's two of the owners of those trains who are currently looking at the site of some severe damage. A sandstorm near the city had whipped up, burying several rails in far too much sand. As the sand continues to get cleared out, the head dispatcher of Ulimaroa Central Railways looks over the scene.

"Hmmmmm."

Fredrick Stapleton, nicknamed the Fatalistic Signalman by many for his dour demeanor, lets the cigarette in his mouth slowly burn down as he takes a few more notes on the progress of repairs.

"I'll be able to shift two of the scheduled cargo trains to Line B, and we can shunt another passenger train on the long stretch on the Grange Line. But I'll still have to cancel several trains. I appreciate your coming down here to manage this personally, but I don't believe we can avoid a major productivity loss."

"We'll see about that." declares the firm voice of the man standing next to him.

A long time ago, Cornelius Gold had been Ulimaroa Central's foremost builder, the man standing on the front lines of every single line they laid down. Now, with his days of personal building long behind him, he'd been promoted to head of the workforce division, managing the various people who work on building and rebuilding the lines.

"I recognize your estimates, but I think we'll overcome them. It won't be easy, but with some good work behind us, we'll pull through. Maybe we'll be bottlenecked for a while, but I think we can run some extra cargo trains along the Grange Line too if we stagger them right."

"I admire your optimism."

"Gentlemen. I take it that we have plenty of work ahead of us still?"

The familiar voice turns both Cornelius and Fredrick to face it, as Katharina Richter, the woman in charge of Ulimaroa Central, strides up to them. Behind her is none other than general manager Saito Yamada, the man looking a little abashed as he sees Fredrick after his previous attempt at adjusting dispatches. Fredrick just looks a little exhausted, the man clearly resigned to whatever happens.

"We do, Katharina." "Very well then. We shall leave them to it. Follow me, gentlemen."

Katharina begins to walk off, followed by the three other members of her top-level railroad team. Cornelius coughs a bit, then speaks up. "It's been a long time since we were all together in person, ma'am. About six months, by my count. What's the reason for the short notice?"

"I'll explain when we get to the office."

A small shed near the tracks turns out to be Katharina's temporary office, and she takes a seat, producing a newspaper. Slapping it down on the table, she gestures to four spots on it, making it very clear what the problem is.

The headline, by one Myriam Scuttlebutt, summarizes the official announcement of Grand Worldwide Railways making a large investment in the Argo area. 

"...And?" Fredrick asks. "The Baron has always shown an interest in Ulimaroa. He wouldn't have his lines on the other shore if not for that."

"Ulimaroa is one thing. I can tolerate him working on Ulimaroa. I can even put up with that one line in Argo, even if I'd like to see him get out of our territory. What I can't stand is the concept of him trying to take my cities from me. And look at this!" 

"Hmmm." Saito mutters as he leans over and adjusts his glasses. "It says here that he's planning to invest in building... wait. Is this correct? Surely she misheard it."

"Scuttlebutt has an exemplary track record. If I had any hope of counting on an inefficient reporter, I'd pick someone else. No, he's planning to do it. He's planning to build his own line between Argo and Erenvale. He knows what he's doing."

"Well. Seems like the problem's a problem after all." Cornelius shrugs. "What do you want us to do? We've got the substance to outcompete him."

"We do, but the problem is the Kobbers. The Baron had encounters with them before. I've already told Saito about this, but we need to win them over. Get their hearts and their minds. I'm expecting maximum efficiency from you two, and everyone working for you."

"Yes, ma'am." "Understood, Katharina."

"Excellent. If Baron von Eisenbahn wants to pick a fight, he'll get one. This is his gauntlet, and I'm picking it up."

TO BE CONTINUED 
SPRING 2025

Streaming Soliloquy

 WHALESTRAND POINT, DOCKS

"Alriiiight, chaaat!" says Champion of the Sevii League, Iono! She hadn't been content to rest on her laurels... though she had been content to not go for another gym league challenge. The Sevii Islands and their seven gyms and champion had been enough of a dramatic arc to satisfy chat, and they had the bonus of Iono being the first non-native to actually get all seven badges and defeat the champion. 

Plus, she'd felt a personal investment in trying to help them get on the map, after the first couple. Compared to that, what was the Alola League or Sinnoh League but more of what many people had streamed already? So naturally, Iono's busy with her original streaming plan, that of the mysterious and esoteric in and around Glasetera. There were rumors of strange islands off the coast...

"So. What boat do I pick?" Iono says, gesturing to the charter docks.

"Gotta be a yacht. Sail in style!"
"speedboat speedboat speedboat"
"speedboat BUT only if you stand on the prow and blare sad disco music"
"Charter a freighter, it would be funny"
"Don't charter anything. We've already got a good streamer on the way here, we don't need you getting in her way."
"hey wait a second, only I'm allowed to dunk on Iono!"
"Are we being raided?"

Iono looks at her chat in confusion. Sure, some people loved to make fun of her, but it was all in good fun. That seemed more like actual trolling! As a chat mod blocks the invader, Iono looks back and prepares to go for a speedboat.

Only to hear a laugh from behind her.

"Kekekeke..." Iono has heard that laugh before. Too many times. Waaay too many times. She spins around on the spot.

"You."

"Meeee, dear Iono!" laughs the other woman. "The Coral Reef is making a splashdown here in Whalestrand Point! For those on your chat who've had the misfortune to never meet me before, I'm Coral! Streamer star extraordinary!"

"Shouldn't it be 'extraordinaire' there?" Iono says, flatly.

"Ahhh, shut it, big sis." Coral says in return, a mocking look in her eyes. "Nitpicking won't get you anywhere!"

"Says the one who nitpicked all of my streams and gave me two full notebooks of nitpicks, huh?" 

"wait. wait wait was sister in an anime-style onee-san way or-"

"You didn't know?"
"well we DO try to avoid riling Iono up..."
"Yeah, that's Iono's little sister. Rival streamer Coral. Chat has a pact about not bringing her up because Iono gets maaad about Coral. So much for that, huh?"
"Ohhhh this is going to be so interestiiiiiing"

"So how're the shark chompers treating you?" Coral asks, smugly pointing at Iono's teeth. "Didn't you use those to cheat yourself a championship? Dear Iono, unable to actually win the battle with her entire electric team!"

"It was considered totally within the rules!" Iono crosses her arms. "Celio didn't object! And I don't see YOU being a champ, huh? You try the Sevii League?"

"I'll have you know I did. And I realized very quickly that such a ragtag, hodgepodge, irreverent, and downright dysfunctional league was far beneath me."

Iono stares for a second, and then lets a smug look creep onto her face. "...In other words, you couldn't keep up with Lèan, match Ultima, or find Lostelle. So you quit because you weren't used to a gym challenge that isn't what you expected! Hahahahahaha, shoulda known!"

"GHRK!" Coral says, a strangled expression on her face - one that makes it clear that in a related affliction to Iono's shark teeth, her left front canine is strangely large and prominent compared to the rest of her teeth. One might see it as a single fang from afar. 

She sputters a bit, trying to recover from Iono hitting the nail on the head. "O-oh YEAH! Well! I- ...I know I could do better than you if it was a NORMAL gym challenge. So it's all their fault, anyway.

But! You see, you're not cut out for paranormal streams, you've been so focused on gym challenges. That's why I'm the one who deserves to get the boat!" 

"Hey, I came to Glasetera FOR paranormal streams! That's how I got Rotom!"

"And then you ditched them. It was an open audience! Abandoned by the Iono Zone, they all joined the Coral Reef!" 

"Well, now I'm gonna win them back!"

"Not if I..." And with that, Coral suddenly jukes to the side and runs for the speedboat. "GET THERE FIRST!" 

"HEY NO WAIT!" Iono says, running after Coral. Unfortunately, the younger sister has the speed advantage, and by flying pell-mell to the speedboat, Coral is able to leap into it. It rocks a bit, as Coral starts the engine, laughing as she hands plenty of cash to the startled sailor in it and sailing off to leave Iono in the dust. Iono kicks the ground a couple times, before realizing there's another option, and running up to a yacht.

"Hey! Listen! I got a lot of cash and my face is on the internet! Follow that boat!"

Somehow, this is enough to get her on board - the cash helps - and the yacht takes off after, as the two streaming sisters start their rivalry once more...

Due to the Dead (Collaboration with Hooded Pitohui)

 Yuuka's Garden

Yuuka's Garden had blossomed in more ways than one, growing into an attraction well-known around Whalestrand. While a bit of a trek out of the city, folks considered it worth it for a couple peaceful hours admiring careful arrangements of colorful flowers and soaking up their sweet fragrances.

Today, amidst the flowers swaying in the breeze, visitors admiring the flowers in silence might just pick up on the soft sounds of paper flapping in the gentle breeze - though not because someone had brought a notebook and allowed the wind to rifle its pages!

No, the source of the sound was no absent-minded journalist, but rather a young woman with… a receipt… affixed to her face. Well, while some tourists may have found it odd, those from Whalestrand hardly bat an eye at Sabriye Nevrin as she walks about the garden, stiff movements betraying her nature as she peers down at a collection of vibrant pink camellias.

"Shit's pretty," she idly comments to her companion and fellow undead, one Justine Lanchester, "but not too exciting. Could use a spark or something." 

It really was impressive how much Yuuka had been able to, in the long run, leverage the incident with the Pink Revenge. It had drawn more eyes to her, rather than less, and had turned it into a minor attraction for those of Whalestrand.

However, it didn’t seem like the woman herself cared much. Oh, she appreciated the company, happy to talk with anyone who asked her questions and wanted to know more about her flowers. You could even get lucky and be invited to tea with her, if she took a liking to you. It was more that she simply remained the same Yuuka as before, the casual, slightly strange lady who simply liked to have a flower garden.

Not that Justine is very concerned about that, as she bends down to get a closer look, tying one of her ever-present bandages up. She didn’t need them the same way she did when she was first resurrected, but they had grown so comfortable for her, she couldn’t imagine going about without them. “I dunno, I think it’s nice. These are all imports, I think? Non-native. It’d be different if it was flowers I saw on the road.”

"Eh, yeah, I guess." Sabriye may not have sounded too convinced, but still she persisted in looking over the plants, turning her gaze towards the winter daphnes nearby. These were interesting, poisonous to people apparently. Direct contact could even irritate the skin. Of course, that didn't concern her at all. Only for the plant's sake does she not reach out and brush her fingers against it. 

She had the pallor of death about her, and movements that couldn't be described as wholly natural, yet her outfit, strikingly casual and modern, suggested nothing at all was amiss. "At least it's something new… and free." Cheap diversions were always welcome. "Still think it's too bad we missed that plant rampage. That'd have owned."

“Yeah, I could have probably tried one of the new serums on it. Can you imagine using the warp one? I’m still not entirely sure if I’ve got this one right, though… at least I can’t warp into objects. Eesh, that’d be messy.

So whatcha thinking after this, concert?” Justine asks, only to notice a man approaching. Unlike the others, he has a face of business, and dressed in a sunhat and with thick gloves and a green, thick uniform, he simply darts a glance at the plants by the two women.

Seemingly satisfied Sabriye didn’t touch the plants, he prepares to move on. 

"Sure, I'd go for one. Might want to change first. Wouldn't kill me a second time to pick someone up tonight. It's been what? Fuck, three weeks?" She's quite clearly distracted as she responds to Justine, looking up from the plants to keep an eye on the man who had started approaching them. He had an odd look to him, something kind of mismatched. He didn't look like the gardening type, but his attire suggested otherwise… 

"Hey, you work here or something?" She pipes up and asks him directly before he gets too far off. "Give out any fun facts about the flowers?"

“Hey, I bet you’d get ‘em with the just-got-dirty look, haha!” Justine says, before noticing the man, also curious about him. As he turns around, she rubs her chin, thinking. Oh, wait, is that it? No, he looks too sharp-faced for it, but he’s not Cleve Sharpe…

“Huh? Yeah. Gardener apprentice.” the man says, looking a little irritated, but less because of the interruption and more in a way suggesting it was his natural state of being. “Been here a few months now. 

Fun facts, fun facts… lesse. Y’know, you can actually eat some of the flowers here. Not those ones, those’re poison. But the bunch she planted down the west face, they’re all themed as ones good for garnishes and salads. 

I don’t recommend picking them and doing it, though. You never wanna make Ms. Kazami mad.” 

Huh, that lady intimidated a guy like this? Something about her demeanor did quietly suggest you didn't want to get on her bad side… Even so, it seemed kind of strange. The humble gardener, a force to be reckoned with, apparently. "Yeaaah, think I'll take that advice. I don't want a beef with her, and I'm not the fruit and veggies type. Thanks." With that, she turns her back to him. He'd done his job - technically more than his job, seeing as how they weren't promised any little facts - and he didn't seem troublesome, so why not let him go on his way?

As the man leaves, Justine snaps her fingers. “Ohhhh! I remember. That guy was Yuji Endo!

So there was this whole thing I was kind of on the periphery of, I mostly remember it because Wolfgang got caught up in it. Something about Calamities and changing history… point is, this one guy was trying to prevent them with some hired goons, and he was one of them. He caused the whole Pink Revenge incident to happen.

Then he and the other two goons tried to stomp on everyone with a giant robot, and they got blown up? Or something. …I guess the garden master is the forgiving type, huh?”

"No shit? He was part of that?" She casts him one last glance, half-considering calling him back over to ask him about the whole shebang. "Giant robots too, huh? More flew under my radar than I thought. Then he's in some kind of work release or something, I guess, huh? Wonder if she vouched for him or if they asked her to take him…" Well, it didn't really matter, did it? Either way, she made the call to take him in after all that. She was something else, alright. "It's good to be back in the city. I'm sure I can poke my head up from writing long enough to actually see some of this excitement."

“Hell yeah! You were missing out last year. Like, come on, you even missed a concert fight! I’d never have expected you to miss a concert fight.”

Justine taps her finger against her chin for a bit.

“Then again, nothing stops us from making another concert fight.”

"Pft, yeah, I'm real sure we could get in a fracas up against fucking circus witches and whatever that… fish… Buddy… thing was," she retorts, giving Justine a light-but-literal ribbing, bumping her elbow into her chest. "Bet we could have taken the jokesters that actually dropped in down, though. You've got enough of those injections from your boss. Get me a workout mag or something, we could've tossed 'em around a bit."

“I’m surprised you’ve never tried them yourself outside of the test runs, actually. Not comfortable? Or just like the talismans better?” 

She doesn't exactly properly shrug her shoulders, but they do rise, just a bit. "Bit of both. The talismans work, y'know? The injections are whatever, but, look, your boss is cool with me swinging by and all, and I'm down with him, but if he wants data from me, I'll need to see some cash. Besides, something about them always makes me want eat after I use 'em, and see the whole not getting paid deal for why I don't feel like grabbing a snack. Would need to find somebody who'd let me feed off 'em, and that's a whole deal."

“Thaaat’s fair enough. Well, maybe if-”

Before Justine can continue, there’s a beep. She pulls out her phone and looks at it, passing it over to Sabriye. “Oh shit, check it out! Won the VIP standby roulette. That makes two of us!”

"Oh fuck, what are we waiting for? Let's blow this place and go."

It doesn't take much convincing, the two girls doing a quick pat-down to make sure they've left nothing lying around before they head on out, making tracks back towards Whalestrand.

Dinnertime

 A CAVE NEAR AGAMA

"Grab it, grab it!" comes the yell from an armored man as the lashing tail of a wyvern comes down towards him. The smaller cousin to a dragon might only be around ten feet from head to tail, but that's more than enough for most people to have a very hard time against it. Not that it's going to stop this particular fellow.

Laios Touden, the Cooking Knight, backs off as the wyvern takes notice of him again, only for it to suddenly get slammed right into the wall. The cave shakes a bit as the wyvern reels, looking at the one who did that.

Social Spark (Cowritten with Seychelles)

 Just because he wasn’t currently working as a gym leader didn’t mean that Raihan would allow himself to slack off. He had taken up jogging as a means of keeping up his cardio. Today it was warm enough that Hummer had decided to join him.Usually Whalestrand’s cold kept the Flygon inside his Pokeball.

For as much as Raihan hated Whalestand’s climate he admired her views. He had chosen to take the long way around the harbor to get a few shots of the morning sun peeking through the clouds. Landscape shots tended to do really well on Smeargle. 

His Rotom phone whirled to life, lifting itself out of Raihans pocket and hovering around snapping photos.

“Eager aren’t we?” Raihan said. He beckoned his phone closer, and unlocked the screen to check his camera roll. Rotom had mostly taken photos of himself and Hummer. It wasn’t what Raihan had in mind but hey, they both looked good

As he scrolled through his photos he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the background of one of his shots. Was that-

“OMG Chat, that is Raihan.”

Okay, that was definitely Iono. The streamer had her own Rotom phone out and was in the process of filming something. Raihan smiled and waved at her camera.

“Well, whaddaya know! The other big influencer!” Iono says, putting her hands on her hips. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I mean, I’ve seen you in the Brawl, but I thought you were out of town these days!

So. What kind of wacky social media hijinks mean you’re in the vicinity of a champion?”

“Mostly I was just getting my steps in before I started the day.” Raihan said. “Things have been slow lately, although I don’t expect that to last. What are you up to these days, Little Miss Champion?”

“Celebrating my victory with a Whalestrand tour! I already cleared Pokemon, so now it’s all about trying other things! Like surfing! And competitive eating! Trust me, I’m gonna clear eeeevery challenge they have.”

“Interesting.” Raihan said. An idea was beginning to cook inside his brain. Iono might just be able to help him with his current project. Time to test the waters. “Well if you are taking a tour mind if I show you one of my favorite underrated spots?”

“You know what? ...Sure! Why not. Let’s see what this is about!”

Raihan led Iono through Whalestrands winding streets until they found themselves in front of an unassuming concrete building. The sign in front of the building proclaimed it as Hisuain Lights Pokemon Breeding center. The symbols of the Diamond and Pearl clans were posted on cheap polyester banners on either side of the door, and there was a carved wooden statue of a Hisuan Arcanine next to the entrance.

Raihan glanced to the side. Iono appeared to be confused more than anything else. “So, Iono have you ever seen one of my ‘Baby dragon Hatching’ videos?”

“Huuuuuh. Yeah, I didn’t know there’d be one of these in Whalestrand. You wouldn’t think it. 

Anyhow, nope! Haven’t seen any of those yet. Sorry, there’s just so many opponents to check out, and so little time! You know how it is!”

Raihan chuckled. “Huzzah to that.

Anyways. Hammerlocke has historically been a sanctuary for Galar’s endangered dragon types. I do the baby dragon videos to help raise awareness for their breeding center. I’m looking to do something similar for this place. Shall we head inside?”

Once they entered they were greeted by the shriek of a Hisuian Braveriay, who was perched in the center of the spares lobby.

“Sounds like a plan!” Iono says, looking around. When she sees the bird as they enter, she looks at it, curiously. “Huh. I’m having flashbacks. At least there’s no poachers this time… I hope.” she says to herself with a laugh. “So. I take it you come here often!”

“Actually this is why I came to Whalestrand. This facility specializes in extremely rare Hisuan species, some of which are extremely important to that native people of the Sinnoh region. It's fascinating from both a conservationist and a historical perspective, but it's not doing so well financially. The owner, while a good trainer and breeder, is somewhat of a recluse and really doesn’t advertise this place. I want to spread the word, and get more people to visit and donate.” It was showtime. “Iono, would you be willing to help me promote this place?”

“Hmmmmmm. I mean, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea, but I wanna ask. What’s in it for me? What do I get outta it? You gotta make it worth my time. Champion, and all that!”

“Well if my plan works, you might see an increase in viewership. What would you say about a competition? The internet always loves a feud. We can stage events and whoever raises more money for the center is the winner. If you're looking for stakes, how about we make the loser dress up in a kigurumi of the winner’s choice?”

“...Hmmmmm. A social media feud. A classic. 

You know what? That’s good enough. Feuds always get hype, especially with competitions and humiliation involved! I’ll take you on!”

Raihan grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.”

They shook hands in front of a confused looking Braveriary. Raihan could hear the notification sounds of Iono’s excited chat exploding from her Rotom phone. This was going to be fun

  

Busywork

-THE MOJAVE DESERT-

The shuffling noises that one would hear in the heat of the Mojave are not what you'd expect to hear at the moment. The crunching of straw, as if something was shuffling along, made entirely of dried straw.

One would also not expect to see the creature shuffling and shambling along in the desert. Both because of how unfitting it is for the environment, and because of what exactly it is in the first place.

The Past's Messenger

 WHALESTRAND POINT

Another day, another meeting for Beck Gold. His benefactor had a vision in mind for the Neo Neo Kobbers - knowing they couldn't match the size of the Kobbers, they aimed to form a tight group, one that had a variety of skills and experiences. Beck was the one with his ear to the ground, finding member after member who would help them achieve that goal.

Up North

 GLASETERA

To the north of Whalestrand Point looms a castle. The word is a bit of an exaggeration, as the building is more of a half ruined keep than a true castle, though the gothic silhouette still cuts a dramatic figure for anyone who's ventured north of the city, looming over the terrain. There were many rumors among newcomers to Whalestrand as to the inhabitants of that castle, though the truth was, only two actually dwelled within.

Right now, one of them slams his hands on a table.

Photo-Negative

 -LAS VEGAS, NEVADA-

The glitzy neon of Vegas had never dimmed since the Kobbers had left it full time. People came and went, the mark of the Kobbers still clear on the city and their actions memorialized, but Vegas had also moved on in some ways. It had been nearly a decade since the Kobbers had been the stars of the show, and new stars had risen. While the Kobbers had never been forgotten, and never would be, the specifics of their stories in Vegas were told less, now the stuff of dedicated Kobber museums capitalizing on their time in Vegas rather than the word on the street.

It's in the shadow of this that the man in yellow looks at his guests. 

The Huntress

 -MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN-

Atop a large building, the wind blows. Shirley takes a deep breath, her green hair rustling in the wind as she takes in the atmosphere. Here, on the twentieth floor... a nice vantage point. Taking out her binoculars, she begins to scan the area. She'd been here for a week now, watching through the binoculars. Learning people's routines. Studying where they went, who visited what businesses, what paths they liked to take.

Now, she was finally satisfied. Happy with her knowledge. And she zooms in on a man sitting outside a cafe. 

Shirley hadn't bothered reading all the intel her client had given her, but this unassuming man was a serial killer - her client had lost a relative to him. She'd skimmed a few bits of a manifesto he left at the scene of a crime, but didn't really care to read the whole thing, as it was mostly rambling nonsense about testing how much people actually loved each other with deadly consequences. It wasn't what mattered.

What did matter was there was just enough info to piece together who he might be. Not enough to stand up in a court of law, but enough that her client had found out who he was, and Shirley had started scanning information about his past. In the right locations for the crimes of the same MO... fit the voice that was left on an audio recording to rant about how much people needed to be tested... it all clicked.

Now was just execution.

Assembling her sniper rifle, the huntress looks through her scope at her prey. Shirley wouldn't hurt a human without cause, but in her mind, someone she accepted a contract on was no longer a person in her mind, just a target. She watches the man as he continues to eat. She could take him out now, but that would cause a scene and a manhunt that she didn't want. 

Besides, she had already set up her trap. 

Shirley waits for another fifteen minutes, remaining prone and quiet on the rooftop as she watches - she knew nobody came up to this roof, having scoped it out earlier. The man stands up, leaving his money on the table to pay, and begins to walk away. Casually strolling, like any other person in the city. 

He walks by an alleyway. There. Shirley carefully aims into the alleyway, and fires once, her bullet striking several stacked boxes and causing them to collapse. Natural human curiosity takes care of the next step, the man curiously walking into the alleyway to see what the noise was about. He looks around, confused, picking up one of the boxes. 

Now. Already adjusted for wind and gravity. Shirley aims.

She fires.

Her bullet pierces straight through the back of the serial killer's head, the man dead before he hits the ground. With nobody walking by there, it would take a little while for anyone to find the body. Someone would, of course, but she had aimed such that both her bullets had hit the wall, severely damaging any ballistic markings they might have left. With any luck, this would be written off as some sort of alleyway altercation gone wrong.

Shirley takes her time packing her sniper rifle back into her briefcase, before closing it up and exiting the roof. Next was spending a couple days in Milwaukee before she took a rental car out of the city, already knowing her general plan of travel - especially since her client now had the other 70% of her fee to pay.

A hunter's work, after all, was never done.

Peak Viewer Numbers (collaboration with Hooded Pitohui)

 -GLASETERA, NEAR THE MOUNTAINS-

“Helloooo, Iono Zone! Here we are!” Iono, the streamer extraordinaire, spins on her heel as she gestures towards a small hotel. Still somewhat removed from the actual mountains, but close enough to have them looming directly overhead, enough that you could use it as a waypoint if you wanted to go out there and just say you’d been there, this little cabin did quite a lot of tourist business. Iono had opened the floor to suggestions on where to visit for her next stream, and this had won. 

So, now, she eagerly pushes the door open, looking around to see if on a winter’s night a traveler had shown up that would be interesting to talk to… or, depending on who they are, to mess with. She snickers to herself and to chat.

A quick glance reveals that the streamer… doesn't have many options, actually. There's not much activity in the dining area, only a couple of the cabin's small handful of guests up and active right now. Even in this cozy cabin, it seemed, the cold outside kept some people bundled up in the comfort of a bed.

Electric Flow

 -THE GLASETERA REGION-

"Ughhhh. It's too cold..."

Iono whines as she tromps through the snow, grumbling as she walks further north of Whalestrand Point. Ahead of her, the mountains loom, Iono pulling her jacket tight. At least her destination wasn't beyond the mountains, where eternal snow and ice ruled... but just because she was on this side of the peaks didn't mean that when the depths of winter fell, the snow couldn't creep south. Sure, she traded out her usual, iconic jacket for a warm and tight one, but as her hairclips twist and get a great image of her face, her audience gets to look at Iono's grumpy expression.

Not even her chat was that active tonight. This was one of her Mystery Expedition streams, and the past few hadn't produced much in the way of results, mostly ending with Iono unable to find any sources or only discovering some urban legend blown out of proportion. For that reason, only a small group of Iono Hype Squad regulars are in chat, cheering her on. She smiles for the camera, before letting it drop as another gust of cold air hits her face.

"Tonight's Mystery Expedition is... the abandoned power substation a few miles north of Whalestrand Point!" Iono'd told the stream early that morning. "It was originally built as part of relaying electricity to the smaller villages along the peninsula, but when the systems were rebuild and extended later, this one was rendered redundant. Even so, there's been reports of plenty of electrical activity there. So yours truly is going to go investigate!"

Sneezing in the cold, thinking about the substation, Iono grumbles. Was this even worth the time and effort? As she trudges, pushing through some leafless trees, she perks up as she notices what's ahead. Grinning, Iono runs forward, her sleeves flopping, as she sees the electric substation, lights flashing from inside. She hurls one of her Premier Balls ahead of her, the ball bursting open to send out her other Pokemon besides Magneton.

Bellibolt runs with her, the huge electric frog stopping at the entrance to the substation, next to an overly large snow drift. Iono walks up behind it, looking as electricity arcs over the various aspects of the substation, one bolt after another jumping around.

"Hmmm. Well, chat, if I know my electricity, and I do-"

"AHA!"

Iono jumps a foot in the air, along with Bellibolt, as the snowdrift next to them simply explodes. Rising up out of it, and tossing aside a heavily insulated blanket, is a woman neither of them recognizes.

"I knew that if I waited around here, the perpetrators of the suspicious activity would return!"

"...Who are you?" Iono asks awkwardly, to which the woman reaches into her vest pocket and produces a badge. "Katelyn, authorized ranger of the Glasetera region. State-appointed, it's the job of us Rangers to stop activities against nature as far as Glasetera extends!" "I... uh. I see.

Chat is she for real?" Iono whispers, waiting for her chat to ping back. A few of them chime in, confirming that Glasetera does have a nature ranger division, so Iono nods and then puts on her best smile. "Welllll, nice to meet you, Ranger Katelyn! I'm Iono, maybe you've heard of me?"

"I haven't."

"...The Iono Zone? Famous internet stream?"

"I don't watch internet streams."

"Oh. Er. Well, I swear, I'm just here to find out what's causing all this! The same as you!" Iono flails her arms to try and communicate, Katelyn looking her over with a practiced eye. "...You don't look like the usual poachers we get. For one thing, you're underdressed for the weather-"

"...What about YOU?" 

"And for another, you haven't tried to break for it yet. So, if you want to find out what's going on here, you can... but I'm coming with you."

"Well, sure! You hear that, Iono Zone? We're live on camera with Ranger Katelyn here! Hey, wanna say something for the camera?"

"What? I- um, well- h-hi mom?" Katelyn stammers, before seeing Iono running off into the substation, alongside Bellibolt. She yells and chases after her, only to bump into Bellibolt as Iono stares at the way that the main power relay continues to flash and flicker. There was something that it reminded her of, from reading about it...

Walking up, Iono just kicks the relay. It flashes again... and something emerges.

As the creature appears, Katelyn gives Iono a confused look. "What is that thing?"

"It's a Rotom!" Iono says, excitedly. "It's a Pokemon that likes to mess with electrical equipment. And I'm gonna catch it! Go, Bellibolt!" 

Excited, the frog Pokemon leaps into the battle, darting towards Rotom. It only knew Electric, Ground, and Water moves, and Rotom was immune to the only one of those it'd be weak to... but that didn't stop Iono and her Pokemon from just whittling it down through electricity! As Katelyn watches, thoroughly out of her element now, Bellibolt sends a storm of electricity through the substation, Rotom taking several strikes. It gives as good as it gets, but Iono has healing items, and thanks to all that, Rotom's soon dangling limply. 

Hurling an empty ball, Iono pumps her hands as she tosses a Premier Ball, grinning as it snaps shut around Rotom and stops wiggling. Iono walks over and grabs up the ball, tossing it between her sleeve-covered hands before snapping it back into place with the other two, having recalled Bellibolt. Katelyn looks around at the dark substation.

"So... that was causing the power disruptions?"

"You got it! Problem solved, mystery revealed! And this time, Iono Hype Squad, there was an actual cause behind it!"

The chat - or at least the small group in it - overflows in hype. Katelyn just scratches her head. "Well, I guess that means my mission here is done. 

To the west, then. A ranger's work is never done."

Katelyn hurries away, while Iono fistpumps... and then looks up at the sky. Though it was only 3:30 PM, the season meant it was pitch dark. She shivers.

"...Chat, does anyone remember the way back to town?

...Dangit."