<sub>[It's Christmas morning, either before or after the presumed present-opening-- late enough for the sun to be that warm yellow glow as it comes through the windows.]

[The video comes on as the 'Gear is set down on a shiny counter top, and then there's a clunk as a big tall glass of some Christmasy nutmeg-dusted drink is set down in front of it. It's followed by Heather.]</sub>

If anyone ever told me I'd be getting up early to train on Christmas morning, I'd be like pffffpchcpt.

... But damn if I don't feel pumped as hell.

_{[She scoots to the side a little bit and beckons to someone offscreen.]}

Hey, c'mon, get in the shot! Don't be shy.

_{[After a little more coaxing, the one she's talking to scoots into view and shyly waves a big red punching glove. It's a Hitmonchan with mostly-shut, squinting eyes and a rather lumpy head.]}

Junior here's been helping me out ever since he evolved. We're just grabbing something before we head back to the hotel.

... _{[She pauses and leans over to glance at a SECOND glass, which is sitting in front of the Pokemon.]}

... I hope Pokemon can have this stuff without getting sick.

_{[Because she hadn't exactly asked before getting two. :I]}

... Well, the Pokemon Center's right next door.

_{[She lifts the glass, and the Hitmonchan does the same.]}

Cheers!

_{[It seems like a wrap, and she even reaches over to turn the 'Gear off... but then:]}


[CRASH THUMPPA-THUD BOOM]

_{[There are several screams and the tinkle of breaking glass as a flying Stantler comes smashing through the restaurant like a juggernaut]}








.... Well that just happened.

_{[Before anything else, Heather's voice: a little husky and hoarse-sounding, but otherwise high-spirited.]}

Hey.

Hey guys.

Watch this.

<sub>[Is she aware of the strange outbreaks and Team Rocket threats all over the news? Yes. Yes, she is. Should she be spending her time being concerned about this? Probably.]

[But she has much better things to do with her time.]

[Like film Wren the Murkrow skittering across the top of the coffee table in their Ecruteak Inn room with a tiny plastic battleaxe toy in her beak, where she proceeds to bull over a GeoDude (tm) superhero action figure with a viciousness appropriate for the battlefield. Which is what is being broadcast, of course.]

[What follows is a series of cuts showing her triumph over various other toys (pretty obviously grabbed from a discount bin in some shop somewhere), including Armaldo Schwarzenegger and Darmanitanman ("The Meditation Sensation!") and even a figurine of Barnaby the Shiny Charizard.]

[In several of the shots, Heather's other Pokemon are visible-- Arty the Furret looking on in contempt and Cheryl the Eevee watching in utter fascination over the edge of the table. At one point, the fuzzy baby Joltik she'd hatched a few months back skitters onto the scene, eager to help, but is promptly chased off the table again by the axe-wielding Murkrow, who apparently is a Lone Warrior who needs no assistance.]

[The whole time, Heather is humming ominous theme-music and jiggling the camera in that classic 'found footage' way.]

[Eventually she turns the camera on herself to address the surely-enthralled audience solemnly. Her face is oddly flushed, strangely... although perhaps not, given the summer heat.]</sub>

This has been a Public Services Announcement: my bird is an unstoppable killing machine. Nowhere is safe.

Keep your children in at ni-- oh noooo.

<sub>[As though on cue, the vaguely football-shaped black bird had come wriggling onto the screen again, clambering up Heather's arm to determinedly butt the side of her face with the toy axe. >:(!!!!]

[There's some 'fighting' and then the camera goes blank.]


[END FEED]</sub>



[ACTION]

<sub>[With Wren successfully wrestled off into doing something else, Heather shuts the 'Gear and sets it aside, slumping back in her chair with a sigh. Even in shorts and the skimpiest top she owns, it's miserably hot. Enough to sort of make her head pound. She doesn't get it. She remembers the fading summer heat last September being pretty well-managed by all the whirring fans in the Inn...]

[Twisting around, she drapes herself over the back of the chair, poking her tongue out discontently.]</sub>


Guys.

Guuuuuys.

Aren't you just dying in here? This heat is gross.

<sub>[The TV's on over in the corner. They're talking about the outbreak-- about all the people coming down with mysterious fevers.]

[But that's somewhere else. It can't touch any of them. .... Right?]</sub>

<sub>[It's quiet.]

[In more ways than one.]

[Actually, 'quiet' is a pretty good word to describe everything over the past few days, from Heather's perspective.]

[She's been quiet. After making an angry spectacle of herself in front of everyone, she hadn't been in much of a talkative mood. The trip down Route 38 had been spent largely in solemn silence, even after Crow had joined them mid-journey-- something that practically didn't seem possible.]

[The network's been quiet. Relatively, anyway. So many previously-prolific voices had vanished. Those who were left had understandably been left to pick up the pieces of everything that had come undone and, well, it's hard to blame them for being quiet-- those ones who had lost people, anyway. God knows Heather couldn't muster the fire to keep getting angrier as word of new disappearances had continued to flow in. The moment when she had seriously considered destroying a harmless Pokemon egg and its contents had been the moment she'd burnt herself out.]

[And, perhaps the only one that's sort of comforting right now, the city is quiet. The hustle and bustle of summer is both long ago and far in the future and as such, Olivine City in February is a great deal calmer than it had been the last time Heather had been here. That's sort of good, really. They've all needed to do a lot of thinking lately.]



[It's morning-- hardly even dawn yet.]

[At first, the camera isn't even SHOWING Heather. More a very close view of the floor, and the railing at the top of the staircase leading up from the lobby of the Olivine Inn. The cameraman is probably a Pokemon, but who knows which one it is... Godzilla has long since retired from his 'Gear-stealing shenanigans and so has Butch, now that he can WOOOOOO and QUAAAAAAG at his beloved Flapper in person.]

[But whichever one it is, it carries the camera with an air of quiet determination, and once it situates itself within view of its trainer, who seems to be sitting silently by a window in the deserted lobby, it sits itself down with a rustle and zooms in.]



[Eyes shut, she almost looks asleep, except for the fact that she's absent-mindedly stroking something with one finger-- something bristly-looking and pale yellow that seems to be in the process of contentedly nuzzling its way under her chin. ... Something with four bright blue eyes not dissimilar to the odd markings on that little egg she had been threatening to crush last week.]

[The video doesn't last long. It lingers on Heather and the new Pokemon for fifteen or twenty seconds, and then shuts off. Whoever had been filming, it seemed, had no agenda outside of showing the network that, no, Heather had not gone through with her impulsive plan. Fortunately.]


[The whole time, Heather just carries on obliviously.]

[Remembering hurts... but there's nothing anybody can do to change that.]

[Half to herself and half to the creature, who doesn't seem to be aware of how close it had come to maybe NOT EVER GETTING TO HATCH, she mumbles after a few seconds.]</sub>

... Stage five. I think.

That's acceptance, right?