Morai closed her eyes. She wanted to see if her ability to sense fear or strong emotion could get any more specific than simply telling her that it was there and where it was. As far as she could tell, there was nothing more that she could do with this power. Someone was simply experiencing fear around the corner, and that fear was rising.
The trainer walked quietly and stopped to peer around the corner at its source. A middle-aged businesswoman was being robbed by a younger man who had a Krookodile as a partner.
"Give me all you've got, or Krookodile here will rip ya in half!" he demanded. The woman began to nervously hand her belongings over to the man as his partner closed in on her with its large jaws.
"Hold it!" Morai called. All three of them stopped and turned to look at her silhouette across the way, her red eyes glowing in the darkness.
"Who're you?" the man asked. Morai walked forward and pointed her thumb toward her wanted poster on the wall.
"I'm something of a celebrity. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm nearly world-famous because I can do things like this." Morai took control of the man's Krookodile and had it open its jaws so that its own trainer stood precariously in their closing path.
"H-hey, how are you doing that?" he asked. He was trapped against the wall, lines of sharp teeth in every other possible direction.
"I'd try and draw it out for you, but I don't have the crayons nor the time," Morai said. "The only thing you should know is that this Pokémon's jaws will snap shut on my silent command."
"I'm a little confused," the woman interjected, holding her purse in front of her with two hands. "Are you saving me, or...?"
Morai let out a guttural laugh.
"No!" she said. The woman's confused expression turned into a deep frown. "I just got a two for one deal. I don't care if you—" Morai quickly rearranged the entire scene. She put the two trainers against the wall and had the robber call his Krookodile back into its ball. She put herself in the middle of them so that her arms wrapped around their neck and covered their mouths with her hands.
"Look at that," Morai whispered as she relinquished her psychic hold. "A police officer patrolling the alleys. Looking for me, no doubt. If only you could say something! I mean, isn't that frustrating? He's right there!"
She smiled behind her mask as the two started to let out muffled yells at the figure in the distance. She let it go on for a second, then she took control of them again and immediately released her hold.
"You shouldn't do that too much, you know. Here, I'll help you out." The Mask Maker removed her hand off the woman and whistled. The figure in the distance immediately snapped to look at the source of the sound and started jogging in its direction.
"Over here, officer!" Morai said. "I'd like to report an attempted robbery on behalf of this poor woman."
The police officer was a tall, built man. He looked young, as if the job of patrolling the alleys at night had been handed off to the rookies. As soon as he realized who he was looking at, he looked away from Morai's eyes and pulled out his baton.
"You!" he yelled, pointing the baton at her masked face. "Put your hands behind your head!"
"Tch, but I'm not the robber!" Morai argued in the same tone. As the officer reached for his radio to call for backup, the woman suddenly jerked forward and grabbed his wrist. He went to defend himself, but Morai's words gave him pause.
"Now wait a second!" she proclaimed, lifting her mask. "Take a closer look. You wouldn't hit an innocent woman, would you?" The man's shoulder's slumped as he realized what was happening. The woman's lead hook caught him unaware as he was assessing the situation. He let his Arcaning out of its ball, but Morai took hold of it before he could issue a command.
"Alright, if three's a crowd, what does this group of two criminals, a police officer, and a suddenly violent victim make?" she asked, taking her arm off the robber. "You can go. Don't worry officer, he's walking himself right down to the nearest station to turn himself in."
Morai was true to her word. She kept her hold on the man as he walked in the right direction. The businesswoman, who was dressed in a pantsuit, was relentlessly attacking the officer. Her heels had come off after she threw the first attack.
"Stop this right now!" he commanded, avoiding and deflecting every strike he could without striking her in return.
"Oh no, I'm having too much fun. She was a useless victim before, but now she's a skilled martial artist," The Mask Maker said, mimicking the hand and finger movements of a puppeteer. "Not to mention the pickle you're now in. She's committing a crime at this very moment, but she has no free will and her mind is mine. You're not detaining her without a fight, which will warrant a lot of force on your part, and you don't want to do that to an innocent citizen. What will you do?"
The officer took several big steps forward and charged Morai, but she smiled and waved as his unwilling opponent came up behind him. She jumped up and climbed onto his back, hooking her legs around his waist and putting him in a rear choke. The Mask Maker watched as he struggled to break free until he lost consciousness, then she released her hold on the woman as she fell to the ground with him. She groggily opened her eyes and rubbed her head.
"Look what you just did!" Morai said excitedly as she clapped. "Isn't that cool?"
"What?" the woman groaned. She looked around, and her eyes widened with shock. Her own body was hurting from what it had been forced to do, and she pieced together what had happened with the officer. She gasped and held a bruised hand up to her mouth.
"Now, now," Morai said, walking to her and offering her a hand. She took it and stood up, as if Morai had slightly pushed her to without taking full control of her mind. "Look on the bright side! You got to commit a crime and you'll suffer no punishment for it! I'm glad I won't end up like you, being preyed upon by people stronger than me. Perhaps this can be the catalyst for—"
Morai was smacked across the side of the face hard with a baton. She had neglected to make sure she had control of the police officer. Her hold on him was broken when he was knocked out, and she forgot to look him in the eyes again. She stumbled backward and leaned against the wall for support. Her mask had fallen off her face.
"I think it's time I intervene," a Team Rocket grunt whispered into her earpiece. She was watching from above without Morai's knowledge.
"No, she's been hit before," a voice replied in her ear. "Wait a bit and see what happens."
The woman, battered and shaken, made a run for it. She was blurry in Morai's eyes, and Morai was too disoriented to make her come back. The police officer called for backup and charged her, but Morai moved.
"You've ruined my fun," she said. She didn't feel very well, and it wasn't because of getting hit. She felt nauseous and weak. "Look me in the eyes and end this fight while you still can."
She and the man exchanged attacks, and it was clear that he was biding his time until his backup arrived. Morai found openings in his moves and clawed every area he left unguarded, but when she tried to rush in to get too close for him to strike, she was struck hard across the jaw again with the baton. This hit sent everything spinning into darkness and she fell backward
Morai heard a cry of pain from a voice not unlike her own, but she saw nothing. She could only hear, and what she was hearing wasn't from the world she was just in.
"Please, Morai," the voice said. "Both of us have a place here."
Another voice laughed. "Morai seems to be doing just fine without you," it said in a gruffer tone, but one that still sounded like Morai's own voice.
"No. She's losing her memory and her empathy. She's losing the ability to feel," the first voice argued through struggling breaths. "I know you're in pain, too. All three of us are fading," it coughed. "All of the roses are wilting now, not just the ones on my side anymore."
Morai was confused. She was hearing her own voices. They seemed familiar, of course, because they were her own, but she wasn't speaking. The first voice had a softness to it, and the second had a sharp, gruff sound to it.
"Shadows cannot exist without light, and—" the first voice stopped to rest, taking labored breaths. "Oh, I wish I could make you understand, but you're not in control of yourself. I can hear it in your movements and the way you speak."
There was a bit of shuffling, and Morai heard another groan of pain.
"Don't you remember?" the first voice choked. "When we weren't sparring or fighting, I'd sit in the courtyard and you'd play me songs on the piano. They were beautiful. But I haven't heard you play since the day you were afflicted by that wretched poison. Now we're both alone. Don't you miss it? I miss you, Morai."
Morai shot up, sitting upright on the cold stone street. She looked around in confusion, but only saw a Team Rocket grunt standing before her with her arms crossed.
"Where did they go?" she demanded.
"Who?" the grunt asked. She had blonde hair that was cut into a bob. The sharp edges of her hair swung like blades as she moved. "I took care of the policeman and his Arcanine. They're sleeping in the next street over."
"Those....those voices," Morai said, still searching for any other sign of life. "I swear I've heard them before."
The grunt considered her a moment. "You should come with me back to headquarters," she finally said.
"No. I'm not Team Rocket's lap dog. I'm going home."
"Do you even know where home is?"
Morai abruptly stood up and turned toward the yet unnamed Team Rocket member with the intent to spring on her. But the action made her lightheaded, and she stumbled.
"My memory isn't completely gone," she said breathlessly.
Morai stood at the door of a brick two-story house. Even in her past life, she didn't visit the tiny town of Vaniville very often. Still, she had requested that her house be kept in good shape while she was gone, just in case she needed a place to return to.
"Pick the lock," she ordered, her red eyes glowing in the dark of night. The grunt, who Morai had come to know as Ava, silently did as told. Morai had taken control of her mind in hopes that she could open the door without having to break it down. After Ava opened the door, Morai sent her on her way—but not before taking some of her blood. Morai still didn't know why she did it. She figured it was symbolic of the corruption and burning away of her own soul. Still, she didn't know what compelled her to do it.
The house looked just as it had years ago, as if Morai was still the young girl rushing out to become the Champion and save Kalos from the delusions of a villain she now seemed to understand. She didn't agree with Lysandre, but she understood that some people become wholly enveloped in ideas that seem heinous to everyone around them. She was no longer an innocent child, and she no longer viewed the world through a black and white lens of good and evil. People are complex and multifaceted, and so are the many masks they wear throughout their lifetime.
Morai looked at the pictures hung up on the wall, all of them depicting a time she hardly remembered. It was all a blur in her head. A giant chasm had formed between her and the life she had before, and she didn't exactly care to bridge that gap. But even still, she was intrigued by the time in her life when she had been a whole being, viewing the world in a blissfuly ignorant way.
"My dear parents, wherever your lives have led you, I hope fate never crosses our paths again. I can't imagine the horror on your faces. Your little girl has turned into a beast."
"Zoroark," she called, letting the Pokémon out of its ball. "You remember the way I was before, right? Show me."
Zoroark nodded and Morai watched as it morphed into the version of herself that had decided to change and use her abilities to serve humanity instead of terrorize it. She wore the same halter shirt that wrapped around her neck and loose pants. A thick belt hung across either side of her hips, crossing over in the middle and supporting a couple of masks. One mask was on her face, and Morai slowly stepped forward to remove it, revealing a stoic expression that wasn't marred by scratches and injuries. Her hair was much longer and tied into two fishtail braids. The only thing that had remained the same were her eyes.
Morai stared at herself for a long moment, then took a sharp inhale of breath and clinched her eyes shut.
"I can still confidently say that I don't care to remember," she whispered to herself. "You're dead and gone." She waved her hand as if to shoo the illusion away, and Zoroark returned back to its normal state.
There was one more thing Morai wanted to do. She found a mirror and took out the vial of serum from her vest—which had surprisingly survived the events of the night—and downed its shining red contents. It took a moment, but the pain she felt from her fights earlier fizzled away as they were replaced with pain that was much worse. Even with a smaller dosage than usual, Morai struggled to manage it, but she was determined to keep control of herself. She tried to slow her breathing, but it was impossible to relax. She sat hunched over on the floor, gripping her arm with clinched teeth. Finally, when the pain subsided, the trainer let out a big sigh and looked at herself in the mirror.
Morai understood why people looked at her with more disturbance and fear than they used to, and why the people she knew before looked at her with shock and something close to pity. She did look like she was ill, as Ingo and Looker had commented on. She was already vampire white, and her new lifestyle seemed to drain the color from her face even more. The mark under her eyes had become more prominent and the dark circles only made her glowing red eyes seem brighter. The marks from her own claws descended down her neck, with a couple of them reaching her face. They were healing, but they definitely weren't going away any time soon. Still, Morai had considerable strength and fitness despite her supposed decline in health. Fueled by nothing perhaps other than the serum, she trained more than she ever had before, pushing herself to every limit. That's what she was trying to do by ingesting small amounts of it, trying to push past her threshold of pain instead of losing control.
The Mask Maker drifted off into sleep on the floor. The voices she had heard earlier played through her head again and again, like the scene of a movie on loop. Morai was aware of this despite being asleep. It was as if she were there, standing amidst the two voices, but she couldn't see their sources no matter how hard she tried. At some point in the night the voices faded away, leaving the emptiness of sleep behind.