SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9

If I hadn't met Hayley on the roof on Wednesday, I could have gone about the rest of my day (hell, the rest of my week) as though nothing had happened. I could have returned to suffering through the lectures from my teachers, particularly Mr. Barnes, and held out for a hero (or heroine) to rescue me from the ennui.

But that wasn't the world I lived in. The encounter with the girl of the cool boys' fantasies had short-circuited my brain, and it showed when I tried to focus on the Pokémon Biology essay I'd been assigned for completion the following week.

Come on, I thought bitterly. It only has to be two pages. Can't I cobble enough together to fill two pages?

As it turned out, some things are easier said than done when you're in love.

I'm not in love, I reminded myself. I've just got an interest, that's all. Just like the phase when I was fascinated by airline routes or diseases. Both of those went away eventually, and this fascination with Hayley will pass as well.

Just keep telling yourself that, Makoto.

I had no choice, of course. But that didn't stop me from staring blankly at my similarly blank document for the better part of an hour. No ideas were forthcoming, and I was half-tempted to write an email to the teacher for that class and ask for an extension. (Not that this would do any good; she'd articulated a no-extensions policy pretty clearly during that day's lecture.)

Mr. Barnes' history class wasn't much better. If anything, it was worse. Try as I might, I just couldn't find his lectures interesting. Or at least, they weren't interesting enough to warrant my attention.

I wish I could tell you that I came up with a flashy plan to focus just enough on his words to answer whatever questions I was given. I would love to tell you that I had a strategy at all besides "sit in the back of the room and hope I got lucky." But I didn't.

Even sitting in the back of the room didn't help. In fact, if anything I noticed that Mr. Barnes called on those in the further half more frequently than those seated closer to his lectern. Perhaps this was an effort to encourage students to sit up front, where there was nowhere to hide.

He hadn't called on me again. At least, not yet. But it was only a matter of time.

During the lunch period, I resisted the urge to return to the rooftop garden. As much as I may have relished the notion of spending more time with Hayley, it goes without saying that this would only have ruined me more. Already, my GPA was likely on the fritz, and I wasn't even done with the first week yet.

At home, I had never been known as one to keep secrets from my parents. But the Furret mask hung in my closet, and it would have been so easy in theory to fess up to my folks. Of course, "in theory" is very different from "in real life."

Nonetheless, I have to wonder if they noticed something was up. After all, my mother cooked homemade pizza for dinner on Thursday evening, normally one of my favorite dishes, but I didn't shovel it into my mouth the way I normally did.

"Usually you can eat a lot of this, Makoto," she said over dinner. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm feeling fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm used to watching you stuff your face whenever I make pizza. You typically eat like a Pokémon."

I chuckled nervously. "Don't offend Jeff."

"Right," my mom replied. "I didn't mean to imply that your Psyduck wasn't well-mannered. But…".

"No 'buts', Mom" I snapped back. "Jeff should be treated humanely."

My dad raised an eyebrow. "You really shouldn't talk back to your mother like that, Makoto. Will you apologize?"

"I'm sorry" I responded, emphasizing that last word. In hindsight, I'm not sure how sorry I truly was. On some level, my mom's words about eating like a Pokémon still pissed me off.

"If that was a sincere apology," my mom said, "I accept it. In any case, Makoto, getting better at table manners will serve you well. But usually you are well-mannered, so I'm not sure what's going on here…".

And I can't tell you.

"...but I'd advise you to put a stop to it, whatever it is. You want to be a functioning member of society, right?"

"Right."

"So you'll need better control over your emotions" my dad finished. "I don't know if you got into a fight at school, or if you're struggling with academics, or if you're in love, but I hope you know what your priorities should be."

You're right about one of those. But I'm not going to tell you that.

My parents seemed eager to move on from this topic, and so was I. However, that didn't mean the conversation would get easier for me, because…

"I still think something has to be done about that Furret from Tuesday night" my mother said.

"Well, of course, Anna," my dad responded. "We'll see about calling an exterminator. But there are other apartments in this building, too - shouldn't we ask around and see if any of our neighbors have had trouble with pests?"

There was that word again: Pest.

"I suppose, Todd," my mother told my father. "But at a certain point, we have to take matters into our own hands. You know what I'm saying?"

I gulped. Whatever desire I may have had to scarf down more pizza had vanished, to be replaced by nothing but dread.

"Fine," my dad replied, putting his hands in the air. "I'll call the exterminator first thing in the morning. We'll see what their price is. If it's a good deal -".

"Anything is worth getting that pest out of our apartment" my mom insisted. "It doesn't matter how much money we lose in the process, because we'll all gain peace of mind."

That's what you think, Mom. But you're wrong about all of us gaining peace of mind.

DA Woods: Even though you knew your parents were talking about exterminating you - even if you didn't know it - you didn't consider giving up your Furret mask?

Mr. Mutsamudu: It wouldn't have done any good.

DA Woods: What makes you say that?

Mr. Mutsamudu: If I had disposed of the mask, it wouldn't stop my mother from wondering how the Furret had gotten into the apartment that first night. She'd still be as paranoid as ever. The only difference would be, that paranoia would never end.

DA Woods: But weren't you still worried about having to admit the truth?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Oh, I was. Believe me, Your Honor, I was petrified. So many things could have gone so wrong.

DA Woods: Apart from not wanting to lead your mother down a wild Zangoose chase, was there any other reason that you kept the mask?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Yes, there was. I'll admit it: On some level, I wanted to believe that I could impress Hayley Hawkeye. That I could still live out that fantasy, even if it felt more remote after our first meeting in the garden.

DA Woods: This meeting in the garden - what happened there?

Mr. Mutsamudu: That's a giant can of worms. I don't think I want to answer that.

DA Woods: Don't forget that you're under oath.

Mr. Mutsamudu: Oh, great. Here we go again.

DA Woods: You agreed to testify. The Liepards are having a veritable feast right now.

Ten months earlier, I climbed into bed, glancing at the Furret mask hanging from the closet's door.

It had been a long week, even if I'd only gone to school four days of that week. For two precious days, all I would need to do was to relax and get started on my biology essay at long last. My next encounter with Corey McBride, my next dare from Colin Grady, my next trip to the garden to meet Hayley (if it happened at all)...all of it could be deferred for two more days.

Despite this relaxation - this peace of mind, if you will - it took me some time to fall asleep. Maybe it was warmer than it should have been in my room, or maybe there was something subconsciously bugging me - to this day, I'm not sure.

All I know is that when I finally drifted off, the resulting dream was one to remember. (And, for what it's worth, I rarely recall my dreams upon waking in the morning.)

In my dream, I was somewhere else. Not only that, but I was clearly someone else too.

I glanced down at my sleeping body, lying supine on the bed. I was clearly far taller than I was during my waking hours - my head almost hit the ceiling of my bedroom.

And then I realized that not only was I very tall, but that I was getting taller. The sleeping form of Makoto Mutsamudu seemed to be shrinking, and it was all I could do not to panic as something else crossed my mind.

If I'm taller than usual, shouldn't I also be heavier than usual?

That's what common sense would dictate, but common sense flies out the window quickly when you're dreaming. (And yes, I could tell that I was dreaming because…I just could.)

I resisted the urge to scream as my body grew lighter and lighter, but that scream would have rapidly become a joyous squeal as I understood that I was floating above the floor.

Soon, I no longer panicked. Instead, I laughed, a hearty laugh that could melt the glaciers of Mount Coronet in one fell swoop. I was ascending!

Wait a minute…I'm not crashing through the ceilings, are I? I don't want to see any of my neighbors naked or anything like that.

An awkward thought, to be sure, but it was soon dispelled when I passed through the roof of the apartment building I'd lived in my whole life. This didn't hurt at all, nor did it feel unnatural. I was lighter than the air!

Soon my feet touched down on the roof, and I barely had time to get my footing and walk around before a small gust of wind swept me off my feet.

I yelped. Being near-weightless, as it turns out, is far from ideal. The slightest breeze can blow you away like a violent tornado destroys every house in its path.

Careening toward the edge of the roof, I tried repeatedly to plant some part of my body on the gravel, but to no avail. Pretty soon I'd fallen off the edge and…

Everything stopped. I hovered in midair, wondering what the hell had just happened. I could feel the wind in my face still, but I wasn't falling any further - I wondered if this is what rock climbers felt like when their falls were caught by a rope they were clipped to.

And then the wind roared, and I gained altitude yet again. Soon I had a bird's-eye view of Pastoria City.

Now, they offered helicopter tours of the city from several locations. I had never been on one, simply because they were too expensive for my parents to afford. We were in enough of a pinch as it was - luxuries such as that were well beyond our budget.

But now, I understood their appeal. It probably felt incredible to be so high up, to be able to see so well for so far in every direction, that I wanted to beg Arceus to take me back in time, to implant my soul in a body that would be born to wealthier parents. Of course, I did not do this - I would take what I could get.

As the wind picked up again, I laid on my stomach, spreading my limbs out like a skydiver. I had no direction in mind - just wherever the wind would take me.

So I enjoyed an aerial tour of the city, which included views of many of its landmarks. Grand Central Station was one of them, and I could picture the vast network of tracks that lay beneath it. All you'd need to do would be to purchase a train ticket, and then you'd get to ride wherever you wanted within Sinnoh. A slower way of traveling than a plane, but likely a more pleasant one too.

The wind carried me toward the Academic District. I could tell it was the Academic District because it contained several institutions of higher education - law schools, medical schools, you name it. My parents could have named them all.

And then my gaze settled on one of the smaller campuses. Although it wasn't the most expansive set of facilities, it still contained several classroom buildings, as well as battling courts and other sports fields. There was even a rooftop garden on one of the buildings!

Of course I know what school that is! It's Pastoria High!

Ignoring the fact that it had been the garden that clued me into the school's identity, I wondered why my dream had chosen to take me here of all places. Why an aerial view of the city I loved? Why not something that made a little more sense?

But then I remembered a line of Corey's: Some things just don't make sense.

DA Woods: Do you ascribe any importance to your dream the night of…let's see…September 8, 202X?

Mr. Mutsamudu: I do not. At least, I didn't at the time.

DA Woods: But you do now?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Look, Your Honor, hindsight is 20/20. Just because you can make connections later doesn't mean they were there at the beginning. It could be that my subconscious just wanted to give me a pleasant dream after the rough week I'd had.

DA Woods: Fair enough. That makes sense. Let's move on.

When my eyes readjusted to the morning light, I tried to remember why I felt so pleased at first. There was a vague satisfaction within me that I couldn't put my finger on.

And then I remembered: I'd woken up on my own, without the use of an alarm clock. And the reason I didn't need an alarm clock was because it was Saturday, meaning that I didn't have to go to school!

Two days of freedom, I thought. I'd better make the most of them.

I glanced at my desk, which held several unfinished worksheets, as well as my virus-infected old laptop that I still very much needed. The chains of homework still remained shackled tightly to my ankles, but I could resist them for a few more hours, couldn't I?

Sunday afternoon is for homework. That was one of my parents' rules - after about 1 PM on Sundays, they wouldn't allow me to play video games until I'd finished my coursework for the week. Of course, as I'd grown older, this rule had become harder for them to enforce, but they still tried.

"I'll do my work later" I mouthed. Procrastination rarely ends well, of course, but there's a reason so many people still engage in it.

Then I glanced at the clock. It was a little after 9 AM.

"Fuck, Jeff" I mouthed. "We slept in, didn't we?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw (and heard) my Psyduck yawn. He then gave me a dirty look, as though displeased with me for rousing him.

"Look, it's Saturday," I said. "We don't have to do anything we don't want to do today. We can just go around and explore the city."

And then I realized this fact: Jeff doesn't know about what the mask can do.

If I couldn't trust my Psyduck about it, I couldn't trust anyone. And to some extent, of course, placing your trust in someone else is risky, but you have to trust someone, or else you'll be alone forever.

"Jeff," I sighed, "there's something I want to tell you."

Jeff leaned over in my direction, and I let loose a great sigh. Internally, I questioned whether I was making the right decision in telling him, but I was committed. There was no turning back now.

"What's that?"

I sighed again. No point in beating around the bush.

"Jeff, you remember the night of the festival, right?"

My Psyduck snorted. "Naturally. I mean, I accidentally caused that bully to float in midair."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't an accident at all. Anyway, that's not important - we got away with that."

Jeff frowned. "So what is it?"

"We went to that Clint Cargile guy's cart that evening, and I purchased a mask. One with the face of a Furret painted on it."

"Right," my Psyduck replied, probably impatiently. "Just get to the point."

"Turns out, putting that mask on turns me into a Furret. I now have the power to shape-shift."

Jeff's mouth hung agape, and his ears perked up drastically. He probably couldn't have had a more intense reaction if I'd just told him he was standing next to a hydrogen bomb.

"You do?" he gasped. "Is that why…".

"Yes, that's why I wasn't supposed to put the mask on in public" I finished. "I'm going to have to be careful whom I tell about this power, just because it'd be so easy to abuse."

"No shit" Jeff muttered.

"Anyway," I continued, clasping my hands together. "We should find a time to head out today. Or rather, I should."

"Could you maybe hold my Pokéball in your mouth?" Jeff suggested. "That way we can be together, even if I'm not…you know what I mean."

I wrinkled my nose. "Jeff, that's pretty gross. Do you really want Furret slobber all over it?"

"Hey, I don't touch the outside of the Pokéball" my Psyduck pointed out. "It's what's on the inside that counts. And let me tell you, Makoto, it's the comfiest thing ever in there."

"Maybe it is," I said.

"Of course it is," Jeff asserted. "How do you think I know?"

After we exchanged a pair of chuckles, I realized something else. Something that would make it a lot harder to leave the house as a Furret - or at least, a lot riskier.

"Jeff," I said, "Mom and Dad are surely already up by now. You know how they are - Mom always goes to her fitness class or whatever, and Dad has some work to do. You'd think that for all the work they do, we'd be at least upper middle class, but no."

"But it sounds like they're out of the house" Jeff said. "I think we'll be fine. Just be careful when you're climbing out the window - it's a long way down."

"It is," I echoed. "But I land on my feet without even doing anything. At least, that's true when I'm a Furret."

"Then you should probably put the mask on before you open the window," Jeff suggested. "Just in case."

In response, I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. There was the slight lethargy and gastric sourness associated with sleeping late, but nothing too major. Other than that, I felt like a million Poké.

Upon donning the mask, I experienced the spasms and cramps that the transformation entailed, but this time I'd been prepared. I reminded myself that it was temporary - in fact, that it would only be a few seconds, even if it had felt interminable the first time.

Once I'd completed the shift, Jeff's eyes had widened so much I almost worried he was having an aneurysm.

"Trust me, I'm fine," I assured him. "But you've seen it with your own eyes now…".

"Yes, and it's crazy," Jeff asserted. "You shouldn't be able to cross the species barrier like that - ".

"But Pokémon do it all the time" I muttered. "It's called evolution."

"I mean, going from human to Pokémon. There's some dividing line they always talk about, but who knows what's really different. Still, it's just not natural."

"Seems pretty damn natural to me." And I meant it; after several transformations, shifting between the two forms felt as natural, just as logical, as anything else I did on a regular basis.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't" I insisted, but it didn't matter. I'd opened the window and was about to climb out when Jeff clambered onto the desk and grabbed me by the ankle.

"I want to come too!" he exclaimed. "Shouldn't I have a spot on this adventure as well?"

I frowned. "Well, it's a bit too late."

But Jeff wasn't having it. My Psyduck staggered out the window and onto the ledge just outside.

"Careful, Jeff! It's far down!"

Well, Jeff slipped and fell, but he was just barely able to grab the ledge as he did so. Now he was dangling by one of his stubby little arms, holding on for dear life. I could see the fear in his eyes.

"Help me!" he yelped.

I wasted no time. It might have been reckless of my Psyduck to make such a quick move, but I wasn't going to leave him (literally) hanging.

So I reached out to grab Jeff's arm, but he was far heavier than my current form. There was no way I could pull him back into my bedroom. No way in hell.

"Jeff," I said. "This is called a trust fall, okay?"

"What?"

"Pretty self-explanatory, isn't it? We're going to fall, and you have to trust that we'll land safely on the ground!"

"But…" my Psyduck complained. However, his grip on the ledge (and mine as well) were steadily weakening. He wasn't exactly spoiled for choice.

I let go, and we tumbled rapidly toward the ground. I made sure that I still gripped Jeff's arm - if I landed safely, so would he, right?

Midway through our descent, my body automatically oriented itself so that I'd land on my feet. Jeff wasn't so lucky - he landed on his ass as soon as we hit the ground.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Jeff was huffing and puffing. "That…" he stated in between breaths, "...was awful."

"Hey, you kind of brought it upon yourself, you know?"

"Don't remind me," my Psyduck replied bitterly.

"That's an admission" I told him with a chuckle. "But don't worry - we're both safe and sound, and that's what matters. Now, where would you like to go today? The city is our oyster, at least for a couple hours."

"Uh…" Jeff began. "Could we take the subway?"

"I don't think that's a good idea" I responded. "In fact, I doubt it'd work at all even if we tried it."

"Why is that?"

"Because," I replied as Jeff got back to his feet, "there's no way I could place my phone on the scanner to get through the gate. Besides, I don't have my phone with me."

"Then why don't you go back and get it? It'll only take a few minutes."

I shook my head vigorously. "It doesn't work that way, Jeff. Dad is bound to see me if I enter the house as a Furret, and he'll tell Mom again. And we do not want Mom seeing me again in that form!"

I suspected that Jeff would ask me another question starting with why, so I found myself subconsciously preparing answers that would avoid the rockiest part of the truth. Luckily, it did not come, so I got off scot-free, at least for now.

"So the manhole is that way" I said, gesturing at a spot about fifty yards away on the street. "And I might be able to figure out how to unlock it."

My Psyduck stiffened up at that line. He panted heavily, shaking his head. "Please, no. Please don't make me do this."

"Then you can head back home" I muttered. "The only way we're going to get anywhere, other than the subway, is through the sewer."

"But it stinks in there!" Jeff complained loudly.

"I'm sure it does, but that's the only way. Just follow me."

It wasn't long before I managed to open the manhole cover, which opened onto a seemingly bottomless pit. Of course, it wasn't truly bottomless, but I couldn't see where the drop ended. If we crawled in, we'd descend an indeterminate distance through muck and past several of the Pokémon species known for living in sewers.

"We shouldn't do this, Makoto," Jeff told me. "Who knows what's in there?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not your fault. The sorts of things that end up in sewers…that's public information. Haven't you seen one of those videos of sewer divers?"

"That's a thing?"

"Sure as hell is" I replied with a nod. "There was this one news report about a guy who works that job in Saffron City, Kanto. He wears a protective hazmat suit when he dives in, his oxygen supply is from the surface -".

"Well, I would hope so."

"- and if there's a rip or tear in the suit, he has to head to the hospital right away. Lots of pathogens lurk beneath the city - we haven't eliminated the waste of medieval times, we've just swept it under the street. Literally."

Jeff's eyes rolled back in his head. I could tell, however, that he was still conscious, but he was none too pleased as he replied with: "Do you think that makes me want to do this more?"

Just go for it, I reminded myself, using one of my favorite mantras. It meant that whenever you were going to do something that might be difficult or unpleasant, any delay in embarking upon that pursuit would only make it harder to take on the task. It was best to ignore your doubts and dive right in.

And that's exactly what I did.

First of all, the sewer smelled even worse than I'd imagined. The rot of decades was still present within the walls of the tunnel, and merely drawing breath made my eyes water.

Secondly, the slope grew increasingly steep with every step down the tunnel, and it wasn't long before I could no longer resist the incline. With my legs splayed out beneath me, I slid forward (and downard) as though I was at Pastoria City's largest waterpark. As though I were doing something fun.

The slide got faster and faster as the gradient intensified, yet I had ample time to wonder if there would be an end to it. If so, how would it end? Would I find myself in someone's basement, or impaled on a bed of spikes?

Or both?

Nonetheless, I tried to enjoy the ride as much as possible. I'm not much of an adrenaline junkie, but it was still remarkable to experience something like this when I rarely went to an amusement park of any sort. (In fact, I'd only been once, on a school field trip to celebrate finishing 8th grade.)

At last, a light appeared at the end of the tunnel, and I wondered if this was similar to what those people who claimed to have come back from the dead saw. The light was getting closer and closer, and it gave me hope.

Before I was prepared for it, I was assaulted by the bright fluorescent lighting of the approaching room. And it was even more jarring than that, because the ground fell out from under me and I toppled ten feet to the floor.

Out of instinct, I was able to land on my feet to avoid getting injured. At least, I avoided it for a few seconds before a crushing weight landed on top of me!

"Dude, what did you eat?" I bellowed "Cement cookies or some shit like that?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who had this idea," Jeff complained.

I frowned. "Just get off me. We can relitigate this later."

My Psyduck obliged, and soon I was able to stand. Fortunately, nothing was broken; I'd read in school that Pokémon bodies were more resilient than human ones, so that wasn't much of a surprise. What was a surprise was where we'd ended up.

We seemed to have wound up in a public restroom. I could tell it was a public restroom because it had several stalls, urinals, sinks…basically, all the things that such rooms are supposed to have. But the question of how we'd gotten here was quite the head-scratcher.

"I don't get it," I said. "If we went through a sewer, how did we end up falling down into the bathroom? Doesn't your…you-know-what go down into the sewer when you flush a toilet?"

Jeff frowned. "Maybe we're deep underground. What is this? Tentacruel Game?"

"I doubt it," I muttered. "We've just got to figure out where we are."

"Well, public bathrooms all look the same," my Psyduck pointed out. "I guess we've got to see what's outside."

We made our way outside the men's room, figuring that we shouldn't invade the privacy of people who wanted to do their business in peace. And then…

The hallway was dimly lit, but there were several doors along it with neon numbers above them. People were milling about carrying giant bags of popcorn, sodas, and candy. And that's when I pieced everything together.

"Jeff," I said, "I think we're in a movie theater."

"No shit," my Psyduck replied with an eye roll. "Of course we're in a movie theater. I wonder what they're showing today. Come to think of it, who goes to a movie theater at half past nine in the morning?"

"These people, evidently" I muttered, gesturing around the hallway at large. "That's who."

"Well, since we're here, do you want to crash one of the screenings? Maybe Zoroark's Pendant?"

I snorted. "Jeff, that movie's gotten some pretty negative reviews. It's trash, they say. Besides, I'm not sure we're allowed in without tickets."

"Oh, I'm sure we're not," my Psyduck concurred. "But that doesn't mean we can't have some fun today!"

"Fine," I sighed. "Zoroark's Pendant it is."

We headed into Cinema Seven, where the movie was in progress. I couldn't have told you the synopsis if my life depended on it - the sheer novelty of being in a movie theater without having paid for a ticket was something to behold on its own.

"Hey, Jeff," I whispered (though rather loudly on the spectrum of whispers.)

"Yes?" Jeff replied, not respecting cinema etiquette. "Should we be quieter?"

I nodded. "That's exactly it. Shush."

Just as we had found our way into one of the many empty seats in the theater, the unexpected happened.

The picture on the screen suddenly vanished, to be replaced by nothing but static and buzzing. Then, there were those trademark multicolored bars from floor to ceiling; you know the ones I'm talking about - red, blue, green, cyan, magenta, and yellow.

What's happening?, I wondered. Did someone enter who isn't supposed to? Oh wait, that's us.

The scene kept skipping, and then…

"We interrupt this screening of Zoroark's Pendant to bring some breaking news!" boomed a rather deep male voice.

My heart fell like a freight elevator whose chains had been cut. If a movie screening was being preempted in favor of breaking news, the events that had transpired outside the theater could hardly be positive ones.

The studio of Vulpix News, one of the biggest cable TV channels in the world, appeared on the screen. Numerous reporters sat at the tables, their fingers frantically dancing around their keyboards as they did their job - bringing the latest updates to the people of Sinnoh.

The anchor, a brown-haired man with glasses, frowned at the camera. He was probably on the younger side of middle age, but he looked ten times older as he read the notes he held.

"Good morning, Sinnoh. I hate to wake you all up with this news, but if I didn't inform the public about what happened this morning, I wouldn't be doing my job."

Any hope I still harbored was dashed as the anchor wiped tears away from his eyes. He cleared his throat before delivering the bad news.

"At about 6:59 AM this morning, a Pastoria City subway car caught fire on the Blue Line. Miraculously, all passengers were able to escape the inferno alive, but the station at which the incident took place has been closed as firefighters battled the blaze. The railcar in question has been written off."

Another one. There's been another one. Yes, no one died, but it could easily have been all of them if the blaze was just a little more powerful.

The anchor frowned again. "We'll hear from one of our Pastoria City correspondents right now about what happened on the Blue Line. Elizabeth, emotions were running high, weren't they?"

Elizabeth, a conventionally attractive woman wearing a very revealing, lighthearted blue shirt, was anything but lighthearted as she stood in a dark, dank subway station. Behind her was the railcar.

Speaking of the railcar, it was hard to recognize that it had once belonged to the Pastoria Subway. The steel had been charred to a crisp, much like a hamburger that's been on the grill too long. Except this was far more expensive than a wasted patty.

Elizabeth nodded. "That's right, Mark. I've been informed by the firefighters - those brave men and women who risk their lives dealing with crises such as this - that all passengers on the car were able to evacuate, though a few were injured. Several passengers additionally required treatment for smoke inhalation, but again, they are all expected to survive. The same cannot be said about the railcar behind me."

Two in less than a week, in a city known for its safe and efficient metro system. What are the odds?

"Tell me more about the firefighting efforts, Elizabeth," Mark commanded the correspondent.

"Well, there isn't much else to say. The train was going a bit too quickly on the line, and then I guess it hit a power line or something, because the car burst into flames within seconds. Fortunately the stations always have Water-type Pokémon at the ready to help, because it was certainly needed today. They beat the blaze in about seven minutes, but everything that made the railcar…well, a railcar is now useless."

"So will they replace that one car?" Mark enquired. "Or is the whole train going to be written off?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Unfortunately, it does not seem that the rest of the train can be salvaged. Flames licked many cars, even if it was only the one that was completely engulfed in the conflagration. This won't heal itself tomorrow."

This won't heal itself tomorrow.

Just like the lives that had been lost in the most recent incident. They were never coming back, and they could not be replaced. In this case, at least the only lasting damage had been to property.

"And in the meantime, what is the city doing about the Blue Line? Following up on the derailment the other day, is Pastoria City going to tighten its rail regulations? Or will they continue on their current path and hope it doesn't happen again?"

At last! They mentioned the other incident!

"I cannot comment on that matter at this time" Elizabeth asserted, maintaining a near-perfect poker face.

What could they be covering up?, I wondered. Or are they telling us everything they know?

"Fair enough, Elizabeth," Mark stated. Turning back to the camera, the Vulpix News anchor said the following: "Once more, we apologize for interrupting your film. Back to the regularly scheduled program."

Now that that's over, I remember thinking, we should probably get out of here. There's no reason to stick around to watch a movie.

"Let's go," I whispered to Jeff.

My Psyduck raised an eyebrow. (I noticed that even in the relatively dark room, I could make out fine details on his face. Most likely, this was because Pokémon had better eyesight than humans.) "Why?"

"Because I'm not one for movies, not really" I replied, and this wasn't actually a lie. I usually couldn't be bothered to sit through one, no matter how much my parents wanted me to spend time with them. My attention span was weaker than most peoples'.

Jeff let out a great sigh. "Okay then. I guess we can head back. Do we just go through that hole in the wall of the men's room?"

"That doesn't make sense. I mean, I don't know what else it would be, besides the subway. But I'm not sure if I trust the subway, not after that newscast."

DA Woods: How did you return to the apartment complex that day?

Mr. Mutsamudu: We went back the way we came. Somehow, the direction of the slide reversed itself on the way back, so we slid out through the manhole cover near my apartment.

DA Woods: Upon learning of the subway fire, did you decide to do anything differently?

Mr. Mutsamudu: Yes. I resolved not to ride the metro again if I could help it, at least not for the foreseeable future.

DA Woods: A logical decision, I suppose, if not entirely a rational one. There is a difference between the two.

Mr. Mutsamudu: There is.