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South of Mine Island—
Atop the highest cliff overlooking the entire region—
The air was dense with distortion.
Black, oily ripples radiated outward like waves in dark water, corrupting the atmosphere around the mountain's peak. At the center of it all floated a shrouded, nightmare-born figure.
Darkrai.
The Pitch-Black Pokémon, infamous for casting eternal dreams and twisted illusions, writhed in agony.
"SSSKHAAAAAAAA!!!"
Darkrai let out a hellish shriek, unlike anything natural.
A sharp, echoing wail that stabbed through the night like a dagger of ice.
Its normally calm Cianwood-blue eyes had turned blood red, glowing as if soaked in rage.
Black mist surged around its form like tendrils of smoke, and its aura crackled with violent malice.
This was not Darkrai as it was meant to be.
It was being corrupted.
Manipulated
Roughly 300 meters below, hidden among abandoned observation towers and jagged mining scaffolds, a group of shadowed individuals tracked Darkrai through binoculars.
They wore cloaks of red and black, marked with insignia both familiar and dangerous.
Among them stood two key figures.
One of them: Sird—a cold, composed woman with long violet hair and sharp, calculating phoenix eyes.
A high-ranking member of Team Rocket, one of Giovanni's most trusted agents.
The other: a stooped, bespectacled man in a tattered lab coat, with a data pad in one hand—Charon, lead scientist and executive of Team Galactic.
Sird lowered her binoculars and smirked.
"Charon," she said coolly, "I believe you've now witnessed Team Rocket's capabilities firsthand."
She gestured toward a strange mechanical transmitter beside them, emitting faint, inaudible ultrasonic waves into the air above.
"Even Darkrai, one of the most feared mythical Pokémon in existence, is helpless against our Sonic Aggression Pulse."
"This is the power of Rocket research. Think what we could achieve... together."
Charon's expression was difficult to read. But his eyes gleamed.
He lowered his device slowly and murmured with reverence,
"I must admit… in terms of genetic manipulation and neurological control, your Rocket is decades ahead."
"The Alliance has no answer for this."
Sird smiled again—like a viper poised to strike.
"Then why hesitate?"
"Introduce me to Cyrus. Let's make this alliance official. Your goals, our tools… a perfect synergy."
Charon hesitated.
He knew what this was.
Team Rocket spoke of "mutual benefit," but Giovanni's ambitions were far from small.
He didn't want a partnership—he wanted territory.
"You aim to use us to break into the Sinnoh Region," Charon said bluntly, voice low.
Sird didn't flinch.
"We aim to reshape a rotting world."
"You seek the power of gods—Dialga and Palkia—to create a new world."
"We seek to control that world, before it's devoured by chaos."
"Your organization has the philosophy. Ours has the means."
A pause.
Then Sird stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper.
"You know as well as I do, Charon. Cyrus is brilliant—but he lacks the tools. And Team Galactic is... stagnant."
"But with our tech—Dream Drives, Energy Loops, Sonic Disruptors—you'll not only find Dialga and Palkia."
"You'll own them."
The words sank in.
Charon turned toward the mountaintop, where Darkrai continued to thrash under the influence of the Sonic Pulse—its nightmares warping the air.
"...I will report to Cyrus."
Back at the peak, Darkrai's body surged with more black mist.
Its eyes blazed with pain.
And its dreams began to leak outward—toward Mine Island below.
That night, not a soul on the island slept soundly.
Even beneath thick hotel walls and protective charms, every dream warped into horror.
Except for one.
A single Trainer, guided by Aura, stirred within his room.
His eyes snapped open.
And the nightmare had finally begun.
Charon narrowed his cloudy eyes, thought long and hard, and finally nodded.
"I see."
"I'll arrange a meeting with our leader, Cyrus, as soon as possible."
"When that time comes, we'll formalize the terms of cooperation."
Sird's ruby-red lips curled upward, her smile dangerous and seductive.
"Very wise, Charon."
"Together, we'll forge a new world… or tear this one apart."
At that very moment, high above on the cliffs of Mine Island, the berserk Darkrai screamed again.
"SSSHHHHRYAAAA!!!"
The sharp cry wasn't just a sound. It was a wave.
A nightmare-fueled pulse that turned the very air around it black.
The ripples that had previously warped the sky now solidified, cracking the cliffside like glass.
Boulders shattered.
Dust stormed outward in violent rings.
The surrounding space twisted under the weight of chaotic energy.
Charon instinctively raised his arm to shield himself from the blast of wind.
"Sird! What's happening?! It wasn't supposed to get this unstable!"
But Sird, calm as ever, stepped forward.
The wind tugged at her coat, but her eyes gleamed.
"This is perfectly normal," she replied with a smirk.
"The closer Darkrai gets to full insanity, the easier it is to control."
Behind her, one of the Rocket operatives rushed forward, carrying a secured black case.
Sird turned, opened the case with a six-digit passcode, and slowly withdrew a pitch-black Poké Ball.
It shimmered faintly under the night sky—veins of red etched into its glossy surface.
"This," she said, raising it for Charon to see, "is the new-generation Dusk Ball."
"A Team Rocket exclusive."
"Once Darkrai is driven mad enough… this ball will suppress its consciousness entirely."
"No will. No resistance. Just a weapon."
Charon's eyes widened.
"You're saying... this can erase the mind of even a Legendary Pokémon?"
Sird gave a slow nod, her grin widening.
"Exactly. It becomes ours. No dreams, no rebellion. Just raw power."
Charon gulped.
Cyrus will like this
—-----------------
But at that very moment, back in the star-rated hotel…
Sam had just stepped out of the shower, towel around his neck, hair still damp.
He was preparing to lie down when—
Boom…!
His eyes snapped open. A shock of power rushed through his Aura.
The windowpanes rattled slightly, and in the distance, he felt it:
A pulse of deep, twisted hatred—
Like a psychic scream tearing across space.
It prickled along his skin, crawling through his mind like a thousand claws.