Three punks. Mechanically modded Pokémon. A tight circle closing in.
Kairos felt the shadow beneath his feet do that telltale ripple, Gengar getting antsy, ready to explode out and wreck somebody's day.
"Stay put."
He barely moved his mouth. Whisper of a whisper. But his ghost would catch it.
The shadow went still. Confused, probably. And honestly, Gengar had every right to be ticked off.
What gives, man? The ghost was almost certainly thinking something along those lines. You drag me all the way out here for exactly this kind of garbage, and now I am supposed to just... sit here?
Fine. Whatever.
Gengar folded its spectral legs, settling in like someone grabbing popcorn before a movie they did not ask to watch.
The punk with hair like radioactive slime noticed Kairos was not flinching. Was not even sweating. Just standing there, mumbling to himself like some weirdo.
That stung.
He spat out his toothpick, real dramatic about it, and threw up a hand signal.
"Oh, so we are playing tough guy? Electrode, flatten him. Magnemite, light him up. Joltik, Electro Ball, now."
The Electrode came first. Clunky red armor bolted to its body, unstable looking, sparking at the seams. It rocketed forward like a chrome bowling ball with anger issues.
Magnemite shuddered, actually shuddered, poor thing, before coughing out two pitiful arcs of electricity.
And the Joltik, tiny battery pack strapped to its fuzzy back, lobbed a golden sphere of crackling energy his way.
Kairos did not move.
Why would he? This was precisely the field test he had been waiting for. How tough was this enhanced body of his, really? Time to find out.
Thunk.
The Electrode nailed him square in the shin. Felt like... honestly, like getting bumped by a pool noodle. Maybe less. The thing ricocheted off, spinning on the ground like a confused top.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Thundershock hit his arm, his chest. Little tingle. Not even unpleasant, really, more like static from a cheap carpet. No redness. No nothing. The current just disappeared into him.
The Electro Ball? He swatted it aside with his palm. Gone. Absorbed. Pathetic.
"Wh, what the..."
"That is not possible."
"WHAT THE ACTUAL..."
Their faces. God, their faces. Eyes bulging, jaws slack, the whole tough guy act crumbling like wet cardboard.
And deep in the shadow, Gengar was having its own moment.
Holy crap.
Okay, yeah, these Pokémon are trash tier, I get it, but...
Tanking direct hits like they are mosquito bites? What have you been doing when I am not looking?
Kairos brushed off the spot where the Electro Ball had landed. Just dust, really.
His assessment was confirmed: these Pokémon were pathetically weak. Starter level at best. Maybe the mechanical junk bolted onto them was siphoning their combat potential. Or maybe this world just produced feeble Pokémon in general.
Either way, not even a decent itch.
He stepped forward. He had questions. Lots of them. Where was he? Why did everything here look like it had been chewed up and spit out by a garbage disposal? Had they seen anything weird lately?
He opened his mouth...
And all three punks screamed like they had witnessed the apocalypse in person.
"MONSTER. IT IS A FREAKING MONSTER."
"SOMEBODY HELP."
They recalled their Pokémon so fast the Poké Balls practically left afterimages. Then they bolted. Completely gone. They disappeared into the maze of slum buildings faster than Kairos thought humanly possible.
Dust settled. Silence.
He sighed. Shook his head.
Cannot really fault them, he supposed. If he had watched somebody shrug off Pokémon attacks like they were party favors, he would probably sprint even harder.
So. No directions, then.
He would have to figure this out the old fashioned way.
---
The alley stretched ahead, narrow, grimy, stinking of things he did not want to identify. Low metal shacks leaned against each other like drunks at closing time. Concrete structures with cracks running through them like varicose veins.
This was nothing like the chrome and neon paradise he had glimpsed during his first visit. This felt like walking through the city's infected wound.
Something caught his eye.
Propped against a rusted pipe sat an old piece of equipment. Scratched, filthy, barely recognizable. But the shape... he knew that shape.
He moved closer.
A public communication booth. Ancient. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, the casing more rust than metal. But structurally, it had the same design as the one he had used before.
Could this dinosaur actually work?
Only one way to find out.
The booth barely qualified as shelter. Cramped. Reeked of iron and neglect. He wiped the screen with his sleeve, grimacing at what came off, and the thing actually flickered.
Weakly. Stubbornly. But it was alive.
Identity verification required.
He reached for the system mentally, hoping that the professor's clearance was still active.
A scanning beam swept over him.
Special anonymous access detected. High clearance level. Free communication privileges granted.
Still worked. Good.
He punched in the number from memory. Enhanced recall made it easy. He waited through a storm of static.
The professor's face materialized. Tired. Glasses askew. Surprised.
"Oh. It is you. Long time no..." She stopped. Squinted at something off screen. Her expression shifted. "Wait. Your location... you are in the lower city? That is miles from my lab."
"Lower city?"
"Yeah." She nodded, looking like she was explaining something unpleasant.
"That is where you are. It is... how do I put this? The grimy underbelly everyone pretends does not exist."
"Mostly economically disadvantaged folks down there. Infrastructure is ancient, management is a joke, and public safety..." A grimace.
"You have probably already gotten a preview. It is not exactly a tourist destination."
She leaned forward, concern creasing her forehead.
"Want me to send a shuttle? The paperwork is annoying, but I can file a request. Safer than wandering around alone."
"Thanks, but I will manage." Kairos shook his head. "Seriously. I can handle myself."
He was not being arrogant. His body now operated on Pokémon level specs. Plus Gengar lurking in his shadow. Whatever this world could throw at him, based on those three jokers anyway, individual combat ability here seemed weirdly low despite all the tech.
Besides, he needed information. Real information. And this chaotic slum might hold exactly the kind of clues the polished upper city would never reveal.
Oh. Right. The game.
"Professor, almost forgot. That game I released before, Dark Phantom. What is happening with it? Something went wrong, did it not?"
She froze. Actually froze. Then scratched her head with visible embarrassment.
"About that... honestly, after you mentioned it last time, I got completely swamped with my projects and... forgot to check." She winced. "I thought you were just making conversation. You actually released it?"
She caught his expression and hurried on. "Look, give me a moment. Let me wrap up what I am doing, and I will dig into it right away. Sound fair?"
"Fine." A little frustrating, but he got it. A professor neck deep in something like the Genesis Engine probably could not spare brain cells for some random game.
"I will poke around here in the meantime. See what this lower city is really about."
---
He ended the call. Turned to leave.
The screen lit up behind him.
An urgent tone signaled an incoming call, directed specifically at this booth.
Kairos stopped. Wariness prickled up his spine.
He had not contacted anyone except the professor. So who...?
Government tracking? Officials following his signal through the network?
He hesitated. Then reached back and hit answer.
No face. Just black. The voice that came through had been scrambled, deep, rasping, impossible to identify.
"You are the one who released the game called Dark Phantom. Are you not?"
Kairos raised an eyebrow. He did not confirm or deny.
"Who is asking?"
The voice did not seem bothered by his caution.
"Who I am does not matter. What matters is this: are you aware your game has been classified as contraband? Total ban. The League has resources hunting for your identity. Your location."
A pause. Almost amused.
"And here you are, casually connecting to public channels. Bold move. Are you not worried about someone tracing your signal and kicking down your door?"
That threw him.
Banned? He had guessed maybe server issues. Declining interest. Not suppression.
"I released a game," he said slowly. "Fiction. Stories. Why would that get banned?"
"It is not the game itself that is the problem." The voice hesitated, as if weighing something. "It is what you put in it."
Another pause.
"...Never mind. Cannot discuss this over open channels. You are broadcasting from the lower city, right?"
Coordinates appeared on the screen. An address. A name: The Rusty Propeller.
"If you want answers, real answers, go there. Ask for someone called Old Smoker.
Best information broker in the underground. He knows things you will not find through official channels."
The voice dropped lower.
"Be careful."
Click. Dead air. The screen returned to standby like nothing had happened.
Kairos stood there, processing.
The game. Banned. Because of its content.
Dark Phantom only contained myths. Legends. Pokémon lore from back home. The villainous organization stuff, Team Plasma's ambitions, that kind of thing.
Had some of that touched a nerve here? Something forbidden?
And who was this mystery caller? How did they know about him? Why help?
Questions spiraled. No answers presented themselves.
But one thing was crystal clear: standing here overthinking was not getting him anywhere.
Whatever the professor dug up would be sanitized, surface level, official record stuff.
This Old Smoker character might actually know what was really going on.
Looked like his little expedition into the lower city was about to get a whole lot more interesting.