"As you know, the two Pokémon you brought in were a Turtwig and a Beautifly," Nurse Joy began. "The Beautifly is in the best condition, with singed wings that are already healing. We performed a thorough cleaning of her body to remove the smoke, and found several injuries in various states of healing. Other than that, the butterfly is in excellent health," she concluded.

  Despite the positive diagnosis, Sherry could hear the 'but' in her voice. As she began talking about the other Pokémon, Sherry felt her stomach clench as their walk slowed.

  "Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the Turtwig." the nurse said clinically. "He inhaled a moderate amount of the Houndour smoke, but was otherwise protected from burns by his shell. However, that is the end of the good news."

  After turning a corner, Sherry found herself in front of another large window. Similar to the room that held Staraptor and her Wormadam, the one she looked into was modeled after a section of the woodlands. A thick layer of dirt covered the floor with live plants disguising the walls. A strong light shone from the ceiling, mimicking natural sunlight as close as possible.

  While she was unable to pick out the Turtwig at first, Sherry was easily able to spot the Beautifly resting on a strong branch along the wall. Despite the calm atmosphere exuding from the room, Sherry felt a prickling of hostility from the butterfly. Large, blue eyes were glaring through the window, the needle-like proboscis curling and uncurling.

  While she wanted to question Nurse Joy as to the strange attitude, the woman began to discuss the turtle's condition.

  "Our first clue was that the Turtwig had no growth upon his shell or cranium. At first, we assumed it was burned away but after cleaning, we realized the truth. Furthermore, the turtle's shell lacked all the indications we expect from a healthy Turtwig; the large scales were soft and unable to hold soil let alone keep it bioactive."

  Sherry frowned as she turned her eyes from the hostile Beautifly to search the room for the sickly Turtwig. After her third search through, she found it buried near the center, hidden by a mound of dirt. As the Center Nurse said, the turtle was missing the distinctive sapling that its species was well known for.

  She was briefly distracted from her inspection when the Joy picked up a clipboard with several papers. Flipping through it, she landed on a page and handed it to Sherry to look over as she spoke.

  "We sent the tests off to a specialist to be sure," Nurse Joy continued with a detached voice.

  Sherry felt her eyebrows rise slightly, surprised that the staff in a large, metropolis-serving Pokémon Center were unable to identify the turtle's condition.

  "The doctor's preliminary diagnosis is that the Turtwig is suffering from a degenerative botanic disease."

  The tone of finality turned Sherry's head and she met the other woman's eyes. They were cold and detached, yet held an unmistakable sense of sadness.

  "Essentially, the Pokémon is suffering from a continuous deterioration of any botanical life that attempts to take root." she explained. "It is a progressive cycle, as the turtle's body tries to grow plant-life yet attacks it as foreign."

  "Is there a cure?" Sherry asked plainly. "How did the Turtwig survive so long?"

  "If there is, we have yet to discover it," the Joy said with a sigh. "There are less than a few hundred cases documented worldwide, as most Pokémon suffering from it expire too young to be captured. As such, chances to study the illness in its entirety are few and far between."

  The Nurse turned to face the room, glancing slightly at the Beautifly as the Pokémon stirred upon noticing their attention. Joy ignored it to turn her eyes to the Turtwig.

  "As for your second, honestly we are not sure," she admitted. "We found a Miracle Seed within his shell, the innate Type Energy to the item helping the Turtwig. At the same time, the Pokémon is younger than we originally assumed."

  "Younger? How old is he then?" Sherry questioned. She peered at the buried turtle closer, but was unable to make out any details. "Or think he is?" she added.

  "Certainly no more than a year," Nurse Joy answered confidently. "We estimate that he is only a few months old, likely abandoned by his grove. Their species has retained several reptilian traits despite their Grass Typing, and it certainly falls in line with our assessment of his condition."

  "Large for his age," Sherry commented, estimating his size based on what she could see of the buried turtle.

  "Yes, it's what gave us trouble in the first place." In the glass, Sherry could see the nurse frown sadly. "We also believe that his larger size is exacerbating his condition. Fortunately, the Miracle Seed appears to be offsetting the detrimental effects, though we are not sure how much longer he can hold on."

  "Is there anything that can be done?" Sherry questioned. As a Ranger, she was familiar with the truth of wild Pokémon and how cruel the wilds could be. That the turtle survived to be captured by a Trainer was impressive in its own way.

  Unfortunately, Nurse Joy shook her head.

  "None that we know of. Our records had little to offer beyond end of life care," she sighed. Sherry simply nodded in response, having expected such an answer. "However, the specialist I mentioned earlier? He's a relatively unknown professor specializing in Pokémon diseases. If anyone had anything more to add, it would be him," the nurse said.

  Sherry studied the room quietly, contemplating the nurse's words. Someone would have to explain the Pokémon's condition to the Trainer and, unless she could persuade the nurse to travel to the hospital, it was likely that the duty would fall to her. It was never easy informing a Trainer that their Pokémon was permanently injured, or worse. After the Pokémon Center, the Rangers were the most likely individuals to bear witness to such injuries.

  A flicker in the room attracted her attention and she glanced up to see the Beautifly shifting to stare at the wall. Tilting her head slightly, Sherry remembered her earlier interest in the bug's strange behavior.

  "What more can you tell me about the Beautifly?" she asked Nurse Joy, staring at the butterfly out of the corner of her eye.

  "Honestly? If it weren't for how protective she is of the Turtwig, we would think she's wild," the woman huffed.

  Sherry raised an eyebrow at the heat that creeped into the nurse's words. It was not often a Pokémon Center employee allowed their personal opinions about a Pokémon to be known.

  "The bug is quite persistent in trying to leave, though she appears reluctant to abandon the Turtwig," Nurse Joy explained.

  The butterfly in question turned back to glare at the window, as though in response to her words before looking back to the wall.

  "What is she doing?" Sherry wondered aloud, confused at the Beautifly's actions. The species was well known for their love of flowers and pollen, so it was more than a little strange she was intent on staring at an unadorned wall instead of the various plants in the room.

  "We're not quite sure," the nurse answered. "She always orientates herself in such a manner."

  Sherry followed the bug's gaze and tried to envision what the Beautifly could be looking at. It was certainly not the forest, as the mountains lay in another direction. She visualized the city in her mind, the canal splitting the land and city. The butterfly was looking in the direction of the sea, but not quite.

  "The hospital," Sherry realized.

  Focusing her eyes back on the bug, she studied the Beautifly's body language. Her familiarity with Wormadam helped, with her experience as a Ranger filling in some of the gaps. The butterfly was tense and intent, as though tracking a Mothim passing through its field. Except, there was no air of anger or fear.

  "Now, how would you know that," Sherry said quietly.

  "Ranger?" the nurse asked in confusion.

  "She's looking at the hospital," Sherry said, nodding towards the flying bug. "The Beautifly knows her Trainer is hurt, and is worried about him," she explained. "It also explains why she is so protective of the Turtwig as well."

  "Ah," Nurse Joy responded in sudden understanding. "I should have realized sooner," she shook her head, lightly berating herself for the oversight. "We have seen such cases before, though typically only in Ace Trainers."

  "I'll leave them in your care for now," Sherry decided. "There were no Poké Balls in the Trainer's personal items," she hefted the pack to indicate the possessions. "He has yet to wake, though I will be sure to have him contact the Center when he does."

  "Thank you, Ranger," Nurse Joy said with a light bow. "I hope I managed to answer your questions satisfactorily."

  Sherry nodded her thanks as well before following the other woman back to the lobby. The reporters were long gone, though the Trainers perked up once more at her presence. However, instead of stopping to answer their questions, she strode outside and marched in the direction of the hospital. Her forceful stride dissuaded others from interrupting her as she moved.

  The city was bustling around her, people and Pokémon wandering about. Starly fluttered about in flocks, with plenty of Wingull coloring the sky as well. The two species held an uneasy truce, often enforced by the city's Trainers and the Rangers.

  The more land bound Pokémon have long since learned to avoid the streets and stay to the sidewalks, alleyways, and canals. More inventive were those who chose to traverse the buildings themselves. It was not entirely unexpected to see Pachirisu and Glameow leaping from ledge to ledge as they roamed about.

  Sherry monitored the wild Pokémon intently, as she ever did. It was among a Ranger's many duties to monitor the health of the creatures living in the city and its outskirts. Migration patterns, excessive hunting, and diseases were only a few details among the vast quantity of information that was carefully tracked. In truth, much of the work was offloaded to research labs, the League, universities, and the regional government itself.

  Fortunately, there was little to distract Sherry from her assigned Mission, with only a short message to the base about the reporters and potential illegal breeder.

  Passing through the large hospital doors, the breezy weather was replaced by the distant cold of air conditioning. The building smelled of little beyond a faint hint of disinfectant and cleaner. The unnatural scent did much to ward away wild Pokémon, with other measures taken to prevent unwanted intrusions.

  The hospital staff at the front desk quickly verified her identity and directed her to the burn unit of the large hospital. Here, more care was taken to keep the hallways clean, the sharp odor of disinfectant becoming overpowering. Striding down the wide halls, she kept an eye out for the given room number, nodding politely to passing nurses and standing aside when necessary.

  The isolated ward was not nearly as large as other wings of the hospital, leaving her to soon find the room she searched for. The door to the Trainer's room was open, allowing her to march up to the on-duty Ranger. The man was sitting down, appearing to struggle to stay awake. He looked up curiously as she approached, giving Sherry a clear view of his eyes widening in surprise as he scrambled to his feet.

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  "Ranger Dorian," she said flatly, her tone expressing her displeasure.

  The man straightened and stared back at her warily.

  "Ranger Sherry," he greeted her back cautiously.

  "Your report to Command was severely lacking, missing several points of information that was vital for the Ranger Union to effect a proper response," she informed him coldly.

  As she reprimanded the other Ranger, Sherry could see his face stiffen and a blank expression take over. He opened his mouth to respond, but she continued to speak, not allowing him a chance to refute her words.

  "There was no mention of the Trainer's progress, or expected recovery. More importantly, there was a distinct lack of information regarding the suspected possession that I stated the Trainer was suffering from. Nor did you mention the Poké Ball that right now sits upon his hospital bedside," she added as she spotted the colored sphere.

  His eyes shifted, blinking in seeming surprise at her words.

  "The Commander is expecting thorough updates," Sherry informed him. "Updates that are now late as a result of your lax watch."

  "Yes, Ranger," he said dully, not bothering to defend himself or meet her eyes.

  Sherry waited a moment to see if the lower ranked Ranger would add anything. When he did not, she narrowed her eyes and dismissed him.

  "Ranger Dorian, I relieve you of this watch," she told him. "I suggest you review the Guide before you report back for duty."

  Instead of answering her, the man walked stiffly towards the door and left without another word. Sherry sighed internally before pulling out her Styler to log the start of her watch. As she did so, she set the Trainers pack on one of the few chairs in the room.

  "Ranger Sherry, taking over medical watch, room 418, time 0815 hours," she recited. Her eyes noted the room, mainly the Poké Ball sitting on the hospital bedside table. "There is a single Poké Ball, assumed to be the Trainer's. A visual inspection reveals that it is rather old and battered. I will need to do a more thorough investigation to determine if it is operable." Sherry paused as she felt Staraptor's own Poké Ball shake slightly.

  The bird was often insistent to be let loose, but knew when and where he was allowed to be out. A suspicion rose in her mind and she moved towards the leather wrapped device. After only a few steps, Staraptor's ball shook again, only more insistently. Wary, Sherry retreated and noted the odd interaction for her verbal report. Unwilling to approach the lone sphere for now, she instead turned her attention to the bandaged teen lying in the large hospital bed.

  "The injured Trainer is heavily bandaged and appears sedated. I have yet to talk to a nurse or other health official to obtain a full accounting of his condition, but according to his patient board, he . . ." Sherry's voice faded off as she finally took a glance at the teenager's patient board. It listed the nurse's rotation on visiting, active medication he was receiving, and drips. After a pause to read over the information, she dutifully recited it for the recorder, planning to review it as she compiled her official report.

  Pulling the Ranger tool away from her mouth, she stored the verbal log. After she received the mystery Trainer's medical information, she would send the report to the base and Commander Davis. While she waited, Sherry refused to sit, splitting her attention between the room's sole door and the window overseeing the city. While it was incredibly unlikely that anyone would attempt to enter through the glass considering their reinforcement rating, the encounter with the reporters was fresh in her mind.

  It was not completely unheard of for some ambitious person to use a Flying-Type to intrude on a patient's privacy. Such individuals quickly found how serious the League took their Trainer's privacy.

  Fortunately, the teenager remained unidentified and the media would not dedicate too much effort into investigating unless he was revealed to be a major Ace Trainer. Unlikely considering the teen's apparent age.

  Time passed painfully slow, her fixation on guarding the teenager only waning slightly. By the time the nurse arrived, Sherry had briefly considered calling one herself.

  The woman was rolling a cart laden with equipment and wrapped bags. A thick computer occupied the flat top, blocking Sherry's view of her badge. She did not seem aware of Sherry's presence, as she was peering down to read the screen.

  "How are we feeling today?" she said cheerfully as rolled through the door. "I can see that we have you down for fluids to help keep you hydrated, a blend of nutrients, and some management for the pain," the nurse finished as she looked up.

  She was evidently not expecting Sherry, who was patiently waiting for her to finish speaking, as the nurse jumped slightly. The health worker's eyes quickly took in Sherry and her gear before glancing over to her patient.

  Sherry approved of the attention that the woman paid to her ward before turning back to the stranger in the room.

  "Hello Ranger," the nurse nodded in greeting. "I heard our John Doe was under guard, though the details were a little bare," she said leadingly with a pointed look.

  "I am unable to discuss the investigation at this time," Sherry answered blandly. Seeing that the nurse was willing to talk, she continued on to her request. "The Union is seeking access to the Trainer's medical diagnosis and treatment. We are already in the process of obtaining a warrant."

  As she spoke, the other woman quickly lost her cheerful demeanor, becoming more guarded and standoffish. The medical became a shield that the nurse fronted, using it to boost her words.

  "Well, until the hospital receives the warrant, we will be unable to fulfill that request." she told Sherry easily.

  "Understood," Sherry responded with a sharp jerk of her head. "Is there anything you can tell me about his condition or expected recovery time? The Union wants to question him."

  "That will be a question for the doctors," the nurse said with a shake of her head. "Right now we are keeping him sedated for intubation and pain management. Though we've given him enough to knock out a Rapidash," she grumbled to herself.

  Sherry raised an eyebrow, silently inviting the nurse to expound on her statement.

  A blush crept up the woman's face, and bowed slightly to avoid Sherry's eyes.

  "Apologies," she said quietly. "I did not mean for that to slip out."

  Instead of pushing further, Sherry allowed the moment to pass, continuing the conservation as though nothing had occurred.

  "Have you been informed as to the suspected haunting and possession of the Trainer?" Sherry asked, nodding her head to the lone Poké Ball sitting on the bedside.

  A flicker of fear entered the nurse's eyes.

  "I have. The warding tags maintained by the hospital have shown no sign of wear or weakening," she told Sherry. "And there are several Pokémon on hand to monitor the hospital and the patient. Has anything happened?" she asked worriedly.

  "Nothing threatening," Sherry answered. "Is there anything you can tell me about the Poké Ball on his bedside?"

  "Not really," the woman shook her head. "Only that they found it on the boy when they were cutting his clothes off."

  "Did the hospital happen to keep his worn belongings by chance," Sherry asked off-handedly.

  "I will have to check," the nurse answered. "If that is all, I have plenty of other patients to attend to."

  Turning her attention back to the medical cart, she doubled-checked the computer records before approaching the hospital bed. Sherry observed the room carefully, ready to leap into action at the slightest hint of alarm. Following the woman's movements, she kept a close eye on the Trainer's bandaged form and the worn Poké Ball beside him. She was sure that Staraptor was likewise prepared, but his Poké Ball did not so much as twitch while the nurse went about her duties.

  She started with checking the Trainer's vitals and recording them on her computer. Clear bags were changed out for fresh ones full of fluid that were easily hung from poles by the bedside. She injected the medication into his IV lines quickly and with the ease of long practice.

  Only once the nurse was moving away from the Trainer did Sherry allow herself to relax. That the nurses and previous Ranger did not garner a reaction from the Ghost-Type was strange, but not entirely. It was possible that the Pokémon could sense the staff's desire to help the Trainer, whereas her duty was to guard. If the spirit was fulfilling a similar role, then it would see her doing so as usurping its position.

  Ghost-Types were odd like that.It was their unpredictability that made them dangerous, and kept Sherry on guard. Time passed slowly, marked only by the visitation of the nurses to administer the medication and check his vitals. The doctors appeared irregularly, as they needed to constantly adjust the dosages. Several times they appeared aggravated and spoke quickly to each other, the words too technical for Sherry to follow with any ease.

  The most exciting moment was when they moved him to an immersive bath for debridement, dressing changes, and the application of new ointments for the burned skin. The nurses were in the room and preparing to move the Trainer when the doctor overseeing the Trainer's recovery walked in.

  "How are we doing today, boy-o," he called out loudly as he entered the room. Not only his voice, but his very presence filled the room. His clothing was equally strident, standing out against the more plain scrubs with decorative flames running up and down the cloth. Sherry felt stifled as he continued to loudly discuss the details of the bath with the nurses and technicians.

  Only once they reviewed the procedure did the loud-mannered doctor turn his attention to her.

  "Ranger! Doctor Moran, the burn surgeon overseeing our mysterious Trainer's recovery," he practically shouted as he reached out to shake her hand. "I have several years of experience as a Fire-Type specialist before obtaining my medical degree. I have worked abroad on various rescue missions, both with the regional governments and the Rangers, mainly in volcanic regions," he finished proudly, outlining his imposing history.

  Sherry blinked in surprise at the extensive introduction, not expecting the doctor to acknowledge beyond a simple nod. Now that she was able to inspect him closer, she saw that several of his aforementioned qualifications were embroidered upon his fiery scrubs. Notable was the plain text identifying him as an Ace Trainer, nestled underneath his name and medical position.

  That the man was able to hold a position as a rated Ace Trainer while working as a doctor was impressive in its own right.

  "Ranger Sherry," she responded, shaking the man's uncomfortably warm hand. "A new resident of Canalave City, from the Safari Zone."

  At the mention of her previous assignment, his eyes brightened even more.

  "Oh! An honorable position for a Ranger, I'm told. Visited a few times," he leaned conspiratorially, yet failed to lower his voice. "I'm afraid I did not find it too terribly inspiring."

  "For someone as widely travelled as you must be, I am sure it must not have been," she said distantly.

  Sherry noticed the nurses waiting for the doctor, and took the opportunity to move away. The man noticed the retreat, his eyebrow twitching slightly before tilting his head in her direction. Turning, he began to passionately direct the nurses, with plenty of comments to the sedated patient.

  When the hospital staff began to roll the bed from the room, Sherry felt Staraptor's Poké Ball shake, more violently than before.

  Throwing out an arm, Sherry shouted at the staff.

  "Hold!" she ordered them authoritatively as she placed a hand upon Staraptor's Poké Ball.

  The hospital staff jerked to stop, stumbling at the unexpected command. Out of the corner of her eye, Sherry saw them exchange nervous glances, looking to the doctor for direction. Fortunately he did not gainsay her, and silently motioned them to stay still. She noted in the back of her mind that one of his hands was hidden beneath his coat while the other lifted slightly, as though prepared to shield the staff behind him.

  Satisfied that the nurses would not interfere, Sherry allowed herself to focus fully on the damaged, ominous Poké Ball.

  Wait, Sherry thought with a frown. Ominous?

  The entire time she was in the room, there was little hint of a threat from the older device. In truth, it was almost as if the scratched and marred sphere slipped into the background. Yet now that they tried to move the Trainer, it forced itself to the forefront of her mind. A glaring splotch of color, faded as it was, that could not be missed.

  Glancing up, she noted the warding tags on the walls, carefully placed with clear signs to mark their presence. It was difficult to judge when the specially created items were expended, typically only when it was too late.

  None showed the signs she was looking for-burned paper, bleeding ink, or other similar damage-so she inspected the rest of the room.

  There was a slight hint of salt in the air, enough that she missed it at first. The scent was faintly reminiscent of the sea, and glanced over to windows to ensure that they were sealed over properly. It was then that she noticed how bright the room appeared. Not glowing, but neither did it match the slightly overcast sky outside.

  And in the middle of it all, was the timeworn Poké Ball.

  Frowning, Sherry spoke aloud to the Ghost-Type.

  "The teenager needs healing, one that can only be done in a specialized room," she said to the lone device. "He needs to leave this one temporarily to receive proper care. He will return," she added after a small pause.

  The atmosphere of the room changed, the scent of salt and heat of the sun sharpening for an instant as she spoke. Sherry held her breath, waiting for the ghost to react. The influence the Pokémon exerted on the room retreated, but did not disappear entirely.

  Motion out of the corner of her eye attracted her attention and she glanced over to the staff to see the doctor waving.

  He was gesticulating towards the worn Poké Ball and the bed several times, mouthing words that Sherry could not quite make out. She signed to him quickly, relying on his work with Ranger's to communicate that she understood. When he stopped, she turned her attention back to the Ghost.

  "If you wish, you may join the Trainer," she said carefully. "However, you must not interfere, and I will be monitoring closely."

  The air in the room shifted, before the scent of the sea faded completely. Waiting, she felt Staraptor's ball twitch slightly. Only with her partner's approval did she approach the lone Poké Ball. To her mind, there remained an air of readiness about the ancient sphere, like staring down a herd of the Gym Leader's Bastidon. Not threatening, not exactly.

  Merely intent.

  Dismissing the thought, she carefully picked up the Poké Ball.

  Against her expectations, the sphere was neither warm nor cold. Up close, the minor scratches and small dents were stark against the faded colors of the Poké Ball. She warily investigated the orb for any identifiers, yet could not find any of the typical engraved serial numbers or other markers often added by retailers and even the long-standing clans.

  All the details merged together to emphasize how truly old the Poké Ball was. No Trainer would use such a device to carry a Pokémon. Moreover, any Nurse that was presented with a ball in such poor condition would immediately confiscate it and force the Trainer to purchase a new one.

  A flicker of . . . something, pulled her out of her thoughts and reminded Sherry of why she picked up the device in the first place.Walking back to the Trainer's hospital bed, she gently placed the Poké Ball at his feet. The nurses were wary at first, retreating away from the device before the passionate doctor urged them back into place.

  "It's just a haunted Poké Ball," he chided with false casualness. "I've witnessed far more daunting possessions and individuals. Why, there was this one time, we were sailing the ocean blue," he continued as he led the staff down the hallway, his recounting distracting the nurses from the Ghost lying amongst them.