Vincent sat on the couch, quivering in suppressed rage. Sam had backed up a step at the sight of the young Abra in a similar state as he had been at the Monte Colto, and Bit had even stopped playing back the audio files for the moment. Out of genuine concern, Luke had moved to nearly place a hand on Vincent's shoulder. Vincent...

A wordless shout of rage was all the answer the other occupants of the apartment got before the small psychic pulled off a Teleport, vanishing from the couch in a blur of motion and color. Luke sighed and looked at Bit and Sam. Wait here...I'll go find him...

The Scyther and Porygon-Z nodded once at the Gallade before he vanished, also Teleporting to where the signal led, which was up. Up on top of the apartment building, and there, looking out over the city, was an Abra. Vin- Luke started.

He didn't even get to finish before the Abra turned to look at him, yelled again, and vanished, but this time...

The signal led to all over the city. Looking at one of the locations in question, Luke saw an Abra sitting on top of one building, leaning up against the door to the roof. And there, on another, merely lying down. Tens of Abras at least, at that was just in viewing distance.

It would appear that in his rage, his desire to not be found unlocked another of an Abra's gifts. However, instead of teleporting so quickly that he appeared to have made copies of himself, Vincent went and made illusions of himself and spread them all over the city while teleporting to another location. The order of operations was important in this case.

Luke frowned while thinking on the situation. He couldn't let Vincent be in his condition, he'd clearly been a good deal unstable. Yet unraveling this illusion of his would prove bothersome, and the longer he took, the greater chance Vincent could do some harm to either himself or someone else...

Then Luke noticed something about the illusions and slightly smiled. They were well-made, yes. But none of them felt anything, and it was Vincent's heart and mind that Luke was interested in. He could still track those, and they were burning as bright as any fire...

...And hadn't even moved all that far. Luke elected to walk over to the Abra and wait this time. One of them would give in and break the ice first, and Luke was determined for it to not be him.

The two watched as the sun set on the horizon, and Vincent sighed at the sight. It's beautiful, the Abra observed.

Luke nodded once, before catching himself and replying. Good sunsets usually are, he replied.

Silence reigned for a minute more as the stars started to come out. Vincent looked up to watch it happen with wide-eyed wonder. I wanted to see things like this for so long. All it took was going to another world to get my wish.

Luke, wisely, chose to say nothing again. Vincent's hands curled into fists and he started to shake again. That...that cold, emotionless, all around horrible person I call father can't possibly be the same person as what's in those recordings. He just can't be.

Why not?

Vincent turned on Luke, his eyes ablaze with power barely restrained. BECAUSE I COULD HATE THE MAN I KNEW! The man we're learning about, I can't hate him! He had reasons, emotions, a bloody HEART! He did what he did in an effort to save not just his own mother, but people world-wide! Didn't you hear the reasons behind his project? If it worked, he would have been saving countless souls across the globe! I CAN'T HATE THAT!

Vincent's eyes dimmed and he looked to the roof beneath his feet. I would have to be some sort of monster to hate that.

After another moment passed, the Abra felt something genuinely shocking to him. Luke was touching him, one hand on one of his shoulders.

During the day, the Gallade had explained that his past had left him with a, not quite a phobia, but a strong dislike to being touched. He rarely initiated or accepted such contact with any sort of social grace. However, he realized that other Pokemon placed great importance on touching and being touched by others, which was why he had developed his 'psychic hand' technique.

For Luke to actually use touch, physical contact, in an attempt to comfort him...

Vincent looked up to see Luke's face, full of concern and sorrow. There is still a difference between the man you know...and the man who made these recordings. Something changed him...and we have yet to find out what. Though...we have at least learned one thing about him.

The younger psychic blinked at that. What have we learned about him?

The corners of the Gallade's mouth turned up. We learned where you get your resolve from. If there is anything you can take away from this...take comfort in that.

Vincent laughed at that. A strangled, weak thing, but it was a laugh. Fair enough, I suppose. And you're right...something had to have happened. The psychic fox stretched a bit before nodding at the Gallade. Shall we, then?

Luke looked around the cityscape below and was puzzled for a moment. Where did all of your illusions go?

Oh, those? Vincent waved a hand around. I didn't put a lot of strength behind them, so they vanished...I think ten minutes after they were made? Sounds right. Vincent prepared his Teleport again, but paused and looked up at Luke. And Luke?

Yes?

Vincent smiled. Thanks for caring.

The little Abra vanished, leaving Luke alone for a moment. ...You don't have to thank me for that, Vincent...

A moment later, the Gallade was gone as well.

"Begin. Rupert Nurem audio log, dated December third, 5002.

I'm getting less and less funding for my project that revolves around subject thirty-seven, so I've had to start looking for others in order to keep the lights on in my lab. Fortunately, I am still a talented doctor and a man of science besides. And there are so many trainers in this world, willing to pay anything for that extra edge over their rivals. It helps that I can deliver, and that my methods and machines are capable of being taken out of the lab. I'll...I'll stick to simple enhancing for now. I think I still need a break from genetic manipulation for a while. End log."

"Well, I'd say it was a moderate success, our trip to the station. Wouldn't you?"

There was a reason Tolerance worked with Frigid and Level Head: they were the only ones who could stand him. Both in attitude and in terms of his magic. It worked with his words: he got in your head and made you think that what he was saying was the best idea you'd ever had. It took time to really work on a pony, but for simple things such as information gathering or spreading, he was a pony to be reckoned with.

Also, his nigh-continuous cheery, upbeat attitude just bounced off of them. One didn't feel, and the other took pride in thinking things through logically. They also were the ones who kept him on task, while he was the one to look at doing a task in a new, unexpected fashion.

A frightful team they were indeed.

"We failed in our objective," Level Head stated calmly. "Pokemon, specifically the one we were sent to find, are still going to be working with the Guard. Your honeyed words did not stop that from happening."

"Oh, pish posh," Tolerance waved off her objections. "We learned a lot! One of them cursed a mare, ponies are upset, and most importantly, our target is not a full member of the Guard or even an auxiliary like the ones currently there. Just a consultant, and consultants can be bought."

"And if not, then I am willing to learn if these Pokemon have organs or nerves anything like a pony's," Frigid added. The lack of emotion behind her declaration only made it more menacing.

"A good thing I know where to go, then! We'll head over to where our target is first thing in the morning. I don't know about you two, but I'm tired."

"How did you learn our target's location?" Level was puzzled, she hadn't seen such an important piece of data.

"When I was leaning over the counter, I caught a brief glimpse of a picture of our target, along with the words CURRENT RESIDENCE. Seems they have a file on him thanks to that little casino fracas, a little something I had been hoping for. In the meantime, Frigid, you should see about printing disinformation, get in touch with our contacts with the local newspapers. Try and convince them that printing anti-Pokemon sentiments for the next while would be a good idea."

"Easily done, but they will ask for a reason."

Tolerance smiled all the wider. "Why, just because we're concerned citizens of Las Pegasus, of course. After all, haven't these creatures caused enough harm already? Property damage, theft, and now directly harming ponies? No no, working with the Guard isn't enough anymore to convince us that they mean us no harm. The risks seem to outweigh the benefits at this juncture. And Level, get in contact with our lawyers, see to it that we can find enough precedence to remove them all legally if need be."

"Ahh, a standard three-prong plan. I understand."

Tolerance smiled. "First we attempt to bribe. Then we attempt to shame and humiliate. And if even that fails, the courts will prevail. Assuming that they're civilized, they'll bow to our rules."

"And should that fail?" The question, surprisingly, came from Frigid. She didn't tend to ask questions.

Tolerance tsked and pursed his lips. "Well," he said, "then we can't guarantee their safety anymore, can we?"

"Begin. Rupert Nurem audio log, dated February sixth, 5003.

Work was started, though abandoned, on a machine that could teach any Pokemon any move. Such a thing was far too complex, even on the drawing board. I would need renovations done to the lab to house even a fraction of the processing power it would require. That, or re-purpose the simulator. Hmm...a project for another time, perhaps.

Subject thirty-seven is a year old today. And still, he does not die. Nor does his blood or tissue provide any clues.

I have begun looking in to greater and greater modifications done to trainer's Pokemon. We are advancing beyond simple stimulation of the proper muscles or training in the use of the proper attacks. Now, they are asking for true modifications done to the Pokemon, ones requiring surgery and anesthetic. My element. End log."

"Begin. Rupert Nurem audio log, dated June fifteenth, 5003.

There was an accident in Surgery the other day. Well, I say accident. What I mean is that the Grumpig I was working on woke up partway through the procedure and started flinging things around with its powers. The wounds I received have healed...though not all of them. My assistants tell me that because of both the nature of my injuries as well as the nature of my 'attacker', mental damage is highly probable. They said to me that keeping a record of my experiences is the surest way to monitor how my mind works on any given day, and should any damage occur, that I will be able to catch it. I told them I already keep one. End log."

Lucy sighed as the work for the day finally finished, along with her training. "Just so you know, I'm unofficially on a time limit here."

The male tilted his head to one side at that. "Oh?"

Lucy weakly laughed. "Yeah...our little ragtag family sorta caused a ruckus back in town. And I'm only allowed to be here until the time comes when my training is complete. After that, I have to go back and take my deserved punishment."

"At least you have some sense of justice," the male snarked. "For a while I was afraid that your time with Nurem had changed you too much."

Lucy snarled at that before replying. "Yes, my time with that madman did change me. And while I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone else, I like to think that so long as this training is successful, that I came out ahead in the end. That I came out with a family that not even Arceus himself would break apart. We found one another again here, after all. Sam, Bit, myself, and Vincent."

The male blinked rapidly at the last name before starting to growl. "Vincent Nurem? The son of the monster?"

Lucy blinked before backing up a touch. "Yeeeesss..."

The male got to his feet and looked to the horizon, where the lights of Las Pegasus were faintly visible. "An Abra, you say? I'll go deal with him persona-"

He never got to finish that statement, because that was when Lucy knocked him off his feet with a Low Sweep. "What are you doing, you crazy fe-"

The male's eyes widened as he saw Lucy bringing back one paw that was aglow with strength. "Brick Break!" she screamed, and it took a burst of Extreme Speed to get out from under her attack.

Lucario scrambled to his feet and looked at Lucy, whose eyes were practically aglow with power. "You. Will not. Touch him."

He scrambled for an argument that would make her see reason. "But he's the son of the monster that did horrible things to you! He carries his blood! How can you trust someone related to him that-"

Lucy pulled out a Quick Attack, rapidly closing the distance between the two of them and embedding the male in a quarry wall with a Focus Punch. As he lay there trying to get his bearings back, he felt more than saw the female grab a hold of him again. Once the world stopped spinning, he noticed he was hanging limply in her grasp.

"Now," Lucy began, "I'm not sure what he did to you. I'm not sure what you heard. But get. Your story. Straight. The doctor was the monster. Vincent was just as much a victim as any other one of us that fell into his grasp. His father didn't even refer to him by name. Tell me that you intend to hurt my brother again, and I will find a way to hurt you more."

Lucy dropped the male on the ground and walked off to her sleeping area. A moment later, Maylene's voice rang out.

"Y'know, I only have two things to say to you, Lucario."

The pile of male Lucario on the ground groaned as his partner slash sister walked out from behind a nearby boulder.

"The first is that, quite simply, I'm disappointed in you. You could have asked me when we arrived, and I would have told you all the stories about Nurem, not just the distorted ones you heard from, I'm guessing, victims or other trainer's Pokemon. You would have known that Vincent was just as much a victim of his father as any other, and this wouldn't have happened. Or, you could have left your prejudices at the door, and actually judged the kid by interacting with him instead of his lineage. You had options, and you chose not to use them."

"Yes," the male said, picking himself up slowly. "I get it. I was behaving as terribly as any human-"

Maylene cut him off with an unamused look. "No, you were behaving worse. You were assuming, which is the fastest way to find yourself in that sort of situation, especially if you act on those assumptions."

Maylene breathed deeply for a moment and looked at her partner slash brother harshly. "As such, the first thing I want to hear out of your mouth tomorrow to her are the words 'I'm sorry,' am I understood?"

The male whined but nodded. "And the second thing?"

Maylene reached behind her and batted at one of the Aura-sensing organs on the back of her head. "You're sure the Aura can't lie?"

"It's an expression of one's deepest soul and feelings, even if they themselves don't realize it. It's impossible to lie and not have the Aura know about it. Why?"

Maylene looked to where Lucy had been before she walked off. "That was not familial love that flared up before she defended Vincent. At least, I'm guessing it wasn't, it's hard for me to tell emotions properly through this as of yet. All I know is that it was a pretty big explosion of pink light that was rapidly restrained into a white-hot flame that surrounded her entire form."

The male blinked before groaning and facepawing. "Oh sweet Arceus on high, what did I step into?"

"Begin. Rupert Nurem audio log, dated November first, 5003.

I am recovering from yesterday's drink to my mother's untimely end, and repairing the damage I did in my altered state. Fortunately, the contracts were easy enough to save with the simple explanation of me being drunk and highly emotional. I can't picture another reason I would turn down any contracts for something as simple as body modification to Pokemon.

Subject thirty-seven continues to grow, and had his first interaction with a Pokemon today. Surprisingly, he not only asked questions, but got answers, and seemed to carry on a conversation with the Growlithe in question. Perhaps the Abra DNA in him is doing something after all. We will have to continue to monitor him. End log."

"Begin. Rupert Nurem audio log, dated April second, 5004.

First, memo to self. April fools day is no longer to be celebrated in rooms with extremely delicate or sensitive equipment. The Simulator Room alone will take the better part of a day to be repaired.

Second, seeing as how subject thirty-seven has yet to exhibit any powers unique to Pokemon, we will have to see about triggering them through his emotions. A new policy is in place: he will watch the surgeries that take place at this lab.

Third, the military has taken interest in my work once more. This time, they want to know if there's any way I could add or remove resistances to particular types to particular Pokemon. I admit, the idea sparks my curiosity. While subject thirty-seven may be the only success from modifying humans to such a degree, I never did try it the other way. Perhaps I should remedy that. End log."

The Porygon-Z halted in the playback of the files and stared at Vincent's small form as it sat on the couch, tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. "There is only one more r-r-real file of interest. All the ones between the la-la-last one I just played and the one I sp-sp-speak of merely grow more cold and dis-dis-distant regarding both you and the lab policy. Eventually, for every con-con-contract he took up, both trainer and mil-mil-military alike, he would send an as-as-assistant out to find a particular Pokemon so he could ex-ex-experiment on it, regardless of if it was wi-wi-wild or not."

Vincent nodded and looked up to Bit. "Can you?"

Bit nodded one more time and the voice emanated one more time.

"This...this is probably the last time I'm going to sound like this. The date is October thirty-first, 5007."

And yet, surprisingly, the voice was again full of emotion. Vincent vaguely remembered that day, his father was nowhere to be seen, either then or the day after. The playback continued.

"I've just noticed that I've...I've run out of liquor here, and there seems to be a policy against buying more, especially for me, as it seems to turn me into an 'emotional old fool who cancels contracts on a whim.' I...I remember everything. Everything I've done. And I can finally pin down what's happened to me."

Was that actual remorse in his voice?

"I had already been deadening my heart for a while, but that...that Grumpig I was working on. Either the injuries from all my surgical tools, or his powers hitting my brain in just the wrong way. I...I know that I can't feel anything except curiosity, the desire to accumulate knowledge, when I'm not drunk anymore. There's no right or wrong to my mind when I'm sober anymore. And for someone of my considerable training, that's dangerous. To not feel restrained by society, but want to know more about the world around you. That is incredibly dangerous, and so...in what might be my last moments of lucidity, I make this statement."

No. No it couldn't be.

"The man who once was Rupert Nurem is dead. He died a while back, a little at a time, when his mother was in an accident that rendered her comatose. To be completely honest, I had every hope, every faith, that my plan around giving humans the powers of Pokemon would work, but for some reason, only Vincent lived. Vincent...he's made me proud, you know? Even under these circumstances."

This couldn't be what Vincent thought it was.

"Did you know I never once actually said his name around him, yet he still knows it? He seems to be slightly telepathic. In times of great stress or anger, he'll hear voices which are actually the surface thoughts of those around him. He plucked his name from my mind. I could not be more proud. The downside to such powers appears to be crippling headaches, which is typical for an Abra exerting itself. Vincent, if you're hearing this...then you likely already know the story. And I...I am so sorry."

The little Abra vaguely noticed a psychic hand on his shoulder.

"There are so many things I should never have done. So many things that I think are going to happen once I become sober again that I should apologize for, but will never get the chance to. I don't know why you lived, but I am happy that you did. I hope that one day, you'll either escape or be released. I'm...I'm writing a routine into the mainframe now. Should you ever be released, a copy of all these audio files will be sent to Hoenn TV, and from there, to news corporations everywhere. You...you deserve to know, to be free of my shadow. I'm truly sorry son. For what it's worth...I do love you. Good...goodbye."

And for the rest of the night, all he knew was sorrow.