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Chapter Text

   Everything felt numb, everything felt...wrong. Gold couldn't make any sense of it, glancing around himself in pure confusion. Darkness surrounded him. Everywhere he looked, he saw only black. He didn't dare take a step forward as he lifted his hands, in a futile tempt of perhaps feeling in front of him. His fingers touched no wall, no blockage of any sort. He wasn't in something, then. At least, nothing tight, anyway. So...where was he? And why did he feel so strange? 

    It was a sensation he could not explain, nor interpret in the least. He had never experienced anything like it before. It was an emptiness, a bizarre sensation in the pit of his stomach. He could not rid himself of it, nor the building fear he felt, when still his eyes did not adjust to the dark. Trying to steady his nerves, he said, "Okay. Time to figure this out; you can't lose your cool. Obviously, I'm not in any danger. Besides, I'm tough; I'll figure out where I am." The bizarre thing was, he could not recall coming here, and his memories before this point proved to be fuzzy and nearly unreachable. He tried not to dwell on this, deciding that the only proper thing to do right now was search through his Pokégear, see what he had. 

    Moving swiftly, he yanked off his backpack and rifled through it. Six Poké balls lay inside. This relieved him, knowing he likely had his main team. You see, Gold was a master trainer. He held all the badges, filled out his Pokédex, and even defeated the champion, Red. These things brought Gold fame, and he was known throughout the world and by most, if not all, other trainers. He had impressive skill and a powerful and competent team behind him. With them by his side, not even this bizarre and frightening circumstance could rattle him. 

    He tossed a Poké ball, expecting one of his main Pokémon. What emerged was much different. An Unown. His brow creased as he gazed at the eerie creature, barely able to make it out in the blackness. Its unblinking eye stared back at him, sending a chill through his body. 

    "Strange..." He tried to ignore it, retrieving another Poké ball. This, too, held an Unown. And so did the next...and the next. Five Unown. The moment they were all released, they scrambled together and formed a word in front of Gold. He looked at them as closely as he could, their slender forms hardly visible. Through the darkness, he just barely managed to make out what they spelled out. 

    Leave. 

    Now thoroughly unsettled, he hastily returned each one to their proper Poké balls and put them away. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what the final ball held, but forced himself to release it, anyway. Oddly enough, its name was Hurry. He had no recollection of ever naming a Pokémon that. Shrugging it off, he tossed the ball. A flood of relief washed over him once an ordinary Cyndaquil appeared before him, much more visible than the Unown had been. 

    "That's more like it." He knelt down in front of the Cyndaquil and patted his head. The Pokémon did not respond, staring off to the side. Frowning, Gold leaned a bit closer. Upon closer examination, the Pokémon appeared to be quite weak, trembling a little beneath his touch. From just a glance, Gold could tell he could barely keep himself upright. How much health did Hurry even have left? One? It looked that way to Gold. Shaking his head, he let Hurry return to his Poké ball, then he continued to take in the darkness that closed in around him. There was only one thing to do now. Clearly, the Unown were trying to tell Gold something, perhaps even the Cyndaquil was, with his odd name. That did not seem possible, but after waking up in darkness with almost no memory of what happened before this point, right now, Gold was willing to believe just about anything. If those were truly messages to him, it meant he had to get out. And fast! 

    Stretching out a hand to feel around, he took a step forward. The moment he did, the blackness evaporated, replaced with a large room. He lowered his arm, examining his new surroundings. It looked much like one of the rooms in Bellsprout Tower, though no people roamed. It was empty of all life, except him. The walls, too, looked dingier and darker than usual. The eeriest part, however, was the "pillar" that stood in the center of the room. It did not move at all, leaning to the side and on the verge of toppling over. Wincing hard, Gold walked the expanse of the room, searching for an exit of any sort. He didn't even find a ladder. The room was just...empty, empty of exits, people, and wild Pokémon. 

    Some frustration replaced his fear. "Oh, come on," he said, talking to himself, as he often did when alone. And here, he felt dreadfully alone. "There's gotta be a way out of here, right?" He pressed his hands against the pillar. It felt cool and hard to the touch. He sighed, shutting his eyes and resting his forehead against it in defeat. As his right hand moved to the right, he felt a rise in the surface of the object. No. It was another object entirely, something made of wood. With a gasp, Gold lifted his head and looked towards it. Sure, enough, there stood a ladder, hidden perfectly at the back of the pillar. Finally, an escape. 

    Going as fast as he could, he leapt onto the ladder and clambered down. He descended for quite a while, his surroundings gradually growing blacker and blacker. After a while, he paused in his climbing and almost went back up. He stopped himself from doing so and went just a few more rungs. Finally, his feet touched solid ground. Releasing the ladder, he discovered he stood in darkness once again, so thick and black he could see nothing. Panic clamped around his insides, urged by not only the darkness, but the haunting music that echoed from his radio. He shuddered, recognizing it as the tune he listened to at the Alph Ruins, where the Unown originated from. Is that where he was? He couldn't tell; it looked like an endless abyss to him. This thought horrified him even more, but he hastily pushed it off. "It must be a dark room," he said. "That's all. I just have to light it up somehow." He thought over a solution for several moments, before he came up with an idea. Immediately, he facepalmed. "I have a Cyndaquil, I can just use flash. Duh! Why didn't I think of that before?" 

    He hastily got out the Poké ball, but before throwing it, he searched around for his radio, in hopes of changing the music to something less ominous. After searching for a full minute, he had not found it. He didn't have his radio. So...where was the music coming from? Shivering violently, Gold felt the sudden urge to no longer be alone in this darkness; he released Hurry. The moment the Cyndaquil came, Gold commanded him to use flash. He did, nearly blinding his trainer in the process. After rubbing at his eyes to clear them, Gold examined his surroundings. His heart sank like a rock in his chest. He had wanted the room to be less horrifying, perhaps some ordinary location to ebb his fear, but the place he stood in was not so. 

    The walls and ceiling were of a chilling blood-red, and the path a dark grey, stretching south. From where he stood, he could not make out the end of the narrow corridor. The ladder he previously came from was nowhere to be seen. Even when he looked behind him in search of it, he was met with the sight of a dead end. The ladder was simply gone, and he found himself trapped. He felt both nervous and claustrophobic, almost longing for the dark again. Yet, at the same time, perhaps this was better. Gold fisted his hands in determination and set out ahead, hoping this hall led to an exit and not some place worse. 

    "I have to stop being a coward," he said. "This isn't bad, I'm just...not sure where am I. Yeah. That's all." Never mind the fact bizarre and impossible happenings had already occurred. The sudden darkness...the mysterious Unown...the empty room...the displaced music...the crimson hall...the disappearing ladder. It all sounded like some impossible nightmare, yet here he was, living it. Although, he figured things could be worse. Since now he had recovered from the confusion of waking up in unknown surroundings, with no recollection of recent past events, he felt he could strive ahead with no fear. He had no reason to be afraid, even in such off-putting surroundings. He was in no danger. He could make it out of here, and perhaps discover it was all some cruel trick, or maybe a dream. Something like that, anyway. 

    Gold progressed for a while, the corridor stretching on for what felt like ages. What made it worse was the fact darkness continued to come, closing in on him every twenty steps or so. He merely kept Hurry out, making him use flash every time the black consumed them. 

    This went for longer than he would have liked, till finally he reached the other end, where he expected to see a door. However, it was only a blank, red wall and a worn sign. Kneeling in front of it, he ran his eyes over the words. Etched deep into the rough wood, it read: 

    Turn back now. 

    The moment he read the words, darkness enveloped him completely, and the floor vanished beneath his feet. A startled cry escaped his throat, loud and echoey. The rush of the wind surrounded his body as he felt himself falling...falling...falling... 

    Or was he falling? 

    Gold gasped for breath, trembling and now clinging to what felt like a ladder. He had no collection of grabbing onto such a thing, nor knew why he had suddenly fallen through an abyss. Had he fallen at all? Did he grab hold of a ladder while falling? Why did the floor disappear? He had no answers to these mind-boggling questions. 

    Shaking from head-to-toe, he forced his way down this new, unseen ladder. The climb felt even longer than the first, but at last, he stepped onto ground. Once again, he stood in a dark room, nothing visible to him. He took a few moments to recover from the strange scare of careening through blackness, then glanced down at the Cyndaquil. Gold could hardly see him standing beside him, but soon he would change that. 

    "Hurry, use flash!" Gold said. The moment the command left his mouth, the Pokémon collapsed to the invisible ground. Gold tensed, his mouth open to form words that did not reach his tightening throat. Gulping to keep himself calm, he got down on his knees beside Hurry and gently shook his small form. Nothing happened. Hurry had fainted, yet he had not returned to his Poké ball, and he felt strangely...still. Was he even breathing? 

    Gold shot back to his feet, his heartrate picking up. His hands quivering once again, he yanked out the other Poké balls and went through them. There were six, like before, but for some reason Hurry's appeared to contain a different Pokémon. Frowning, Gold glanced back down at the fainted Cyndaquil. He was no longer there. Had he actually returned to the Poké ball? Overcome with confusion and fright, Gold tossed it. An Unown emerged, in the shape of a letter that had not been there before. This only increased Gold's unease. Like before, he released all the Pokémon, and each one was an Unown. Hurry was gone now. 

    Gold fisted his hands tightly, shaking his head as he watched the Unown jumble and form a new word. Or rather...two words. 

    He died. 

Chapter Text

    "He's...dead?" The words felt wrong on Gold's tongue. That wasn't possible, Hurry couldn't be dead...right? Pokémon don't die. He lowered his head as the Unown returned to their Poké balls. Then...the reality struck him. The Cyndaquil truly was dead, and having a Pokémon actually perish left him with that same emptiness from before, only worse—so much worse. It started to remind him of what happened before this point, those memories that seemingly he couldn't remember, but in all honesty, he felt rather like he was just repressing now. Whatever had happened before this point to cause these frightening events, he did not want to know.

    With a lonesome sigh, he lifted his foot to continue on. He froze mid-step at a new, strange sensation racking through his body. The emptiness that lingered with him increased, followed by a sudden sharp pain searing through his shoulders. The magma-like pangs came in a flash of blinding pain, and giving a cry, he fell face-first towards the ground. He jerked his arms forward, in an attempt to soften the impact, but nothing happened, and he collapsed like a puppet cut from its strings. He lay there for a while, breathing heavily as the horrid throbbing continued. He winced hard and fought back a whimper. His shoulders and arms pulsed, as if they were on fire, as if every inch of them burned with the same overwhelming pain. He shifted his position, trying to move around his hands. He felt his arms shift position, but it was stranger than usual. His fingers touched nothing, in fact, he couldn't move his fingers at all. Or at least it seemed that way. He swore he could still feel his arms, but whenever he tried to move them, he felt hardly anything, as if they barely moved at all. There was nothing but that same pain, which now faded into a bizarre numbness that left him even more discombobulated.

    Shaking his head, he tried to move his hands beneath him so he could push himself back up. Nothing happened, except an electric spasm of nerves and an increase of the numbness. "What...what's happening to me?" he said, his voice weakening. His horror and confusion only increased when a horrifying scent reached his nose. Coppery and strong, he recognized it as blood. He wasn't bleeding, right? He didn't recall injuring himself, unless the fall had somehow done it. But, no, he was alright. Nothing had happened.

    However, the bizarre and painful sensations in his arms told him otherwise.

    Beginning to tremble, Gold managed to move his legs beneath him and stand. It took him a while, for he wobbled consistently, now off balance and unable to use the help of his hands or arms. He still couldn't make sense of why. He knew for certain that he felt his arms there, his hands even, yet he couldn't move them. It only ever resulted in that same grating numbness or excruciating burn.

    The moment he finally made it to his feet, the darkness around him broke, or at least a little. Shadows lingered, but now he could clearly make out grey, stone walls surrounding him. The area was tight, with barely any space to move, and like in the previous location, he did not see the ladder he used to enter. Was this even the same area he had climbed into? He didn't quite know. Walking across the small area, he made it one of the thin cracks in the wall. He leaned closer and just barely managed to peer through. His sense of fear and unease only increased, when outside, he beheld gravestones all around him. The sight horrified and baffled him even further. He backed away from the wall, his feet stumbling over each other. He tried to stick out is arms to balance himself, but to no avail. Nothing happened, and once again, he fell, this time landing on his back. He felt colder now, half from the fear, half from...he didn't know what.

    Shuddering, he knew what he had to do next. He had to look at his arms, try to make sense of what happened to them. The part of him that wanted to be completely fine thought perhaps they'd fallen asleep. After all, he felt numb, and that often happens when you don't move part of your body for long. There was no tingling, though, and the rank scent of blood gave him pause. In fact, now that he thought about it, he saw this horrifying crimson liquid splattered across the frigid ground, as if it had been dripping from someone, specifically him. The more logical side of him knew something was terribly wrong, and he had to figure out what now, before it grew much worse.

    Shutting his eyes, he silently readied himself for whatever injury had befallen him. He dreaded what he might see, and he was completely right to. He first glanced at his right arm, or rather, the nub of his arm. It was gone. And all that remained was bloodied, ripped flesh, impossible to comprehend, to grasp for even a moment. He clammed up the moment he saw it, his mouth opening, as if he were about to scream, call out, or simply speak. Not a sound came out, and he lay there, staring at where his arms once were in complete shock. His mind couldn't even begin to wrap around this new, horrifying development. He couldn't register what could have possibly made him lose his arms, let alone that he had lost them to begin with. The pain had been out of nowhere, as if they randomly dropped off, or perhaps they were torn off by an unseen force in the darkness that had enclosed him.

    Gradually, Gold grew more panicked, his chest squeezing and tightening. The reality of the situation set in, and he opened his mouth wider to scream. All that came out was a choked, rough noise. Quivering from head to toe, he clamped his eyes shut and rolled onto his side. Lying alone on the cold stone ground, he curled up and began to sob. He didn't understand this, he didn't understand any of it. After being surrounded by hostile and confusing environments, given cryptid messages, watching a Pokémon die before his very eyes, and now this—the most horrifying moment of all—he could do nothing but weep bitterly. Everything baffled and horrified him. It felt like some sick, twisted nightmare, but no matter how hard he begged to wake up, nothing happened. As impossible as it may have seemed, it was real. Every single moment of it—every single drop of blood that ran from the stumps of his arms was real. And that petrified him.

    He began to cough from sobbing for so long—he was left a quivery, gagging mess huddled in the middle of the floor. Letting out short breaths and whimpers, he staggered back to his feet. Bowed over himself, he dashed back and forth, slamming into the stone walls in a desperate attempt to escape. They did not give; he only ended up causing himself more pain. With each time he slammed against the unforgiving stone, a deep ache spread over his body, but this pain did not hurt as terribly as the one in his missing arms. Somehow, he still thought he could feel them, but no, they weren't there. They were gone. He didn't dare believe it, but it was true, and he found himself now caught in this useless cycle of desperately throwing himself at the enclosed walls around him.

    Gold wasn't sure how long this lasted until a sudden wind rushed around him. He felt himself spinning, then the ground vanished beneath his feet. A long, piercing scream finally ripped itself from his throat as he careened backwards into darkness. The world around him vanished, once again replaced with that horrid black that so often returned to him. He kept falling, his voice breaking off when the scream ended in a breathy sound. There he was, sinking farther and faster into what felt like an endless void. He couldn't even cry out anymore, nor reach for anything to help him, still lacking hands and arms. 

   Shortly after the beginning of the fall, a familiar pain came, almost exactly like before, but this time in his legs. The burn was even worse, but before he could cry out, he landed on something solid. The actual impact did not hurt, oddly enough. Either that, or he did not notice it past the immense throbbing in his legs. He sent the new injury a quick glance, and with a long, pained groan of despair, realized that now he had no limbs at all. Both his arms and legs were gone, replaced with gory, butchered nubs. Strangely enough, his skin was now pure white, as were his clothes, minus occasional black outlines and the scarlet red of his oozing blood.

    Gold made no move; he hardly even breathed while he stared upwards at the red ceiling high above him. He was still crying, yet not one sound reached his throat. His eyes burned, but he hardly reacted when he discovered that his tears now mingled with blood running from his eyeballs. At this point, though shock and consuming terror enveloped his mutilated body, he simply lay there, unable to react. All thoughts were lost in his pain and misery, along with the impossibility of this nightmarish circumstance. It was as if he waited to wake up or for it all to end but nothing happened.

    Finally, he made a noise, a choked-up plea for help. It was barely a whisper, not even he could hear it well. He shifted his position, only to earn him immense burning in what felt like every area of his body. He didn't cry out at the pain, nor did he notice that this small action had spilled the contents of his bag, which he didn't remember opening. Six Poké balls rolled out. Without Gold's command, five burst open, while the sixth stayed there, untouched. As he expected, Unown appeared. Together, they formed a single word.

    Dying. 

Chapter Text

    Gold lay there silently for what felt like ages. He wasn't sure what to do, not after the horrifying events that felt impossible when he looked back on them, but he had proof it truly happened. His legs, his arms...they were gone. He didn't know where to begin, what he could even do at this point. Completely given into despair, he stayed in one place, until finally, he realized he couldn't give up. He had no idea where he was headed, what he had encountered at the beginning, or why any of this was happening in the first place, but if there was one thing Gold never did, it was give up. Even limbless, even in the worst situation he had ever faced, which both horrified and flabbergasted him to no end, he had to keep going. Perhaps he would find someone to help him, explain how or why he was here. He wasn't sure how life would be if he ever reached home and recovered. No legs or arms? How could someone have a life like that?

    "Life," he whispered. It sounded strange to him. It...nearly brought back something to him, a terrible thing he didn't want to remember. Hastily brushing the thought off, he decided the first thing he had to do was find some way to move. Obviously, he couldn't walk without legs. So what was he supposed to do? Crawl? Roll? He had no idea, but figured he might as well start by sitting up. Letting out a long, withering breath, he strained his muscles and attempted to sit. He was unable to. He'd never realized how much his legs and arms helped with an action like this, but now that he strained to do such a simple thing, he knew he could not without the help of his missing limbs. Giving a pitiful, whimper-like noise, he lifted the stumps of his arms, as if begging for help or if this action could help him sit up. His back and head only lifted a little, before he once again found himself in the exact same position.

    In defeat, he lowered them again. But no. He wasn't giving up just yet. Biting his bottom lip, he threw himself to the side. A good deal of pain throbbed through his missing limbs, but he ignored it. Now lying on his stomach, he realized this was the perfect position to either begin crawling, or perhaps find some other way to get up. After pondering over it for a moment or two, he realized the faster and easier thing to do was to simply crawl. As well as he could, anyway. Silently preparing himself for the pain, Gold moved the nubs of his arms beneath himself and pressed them to the hard floor. A flood of pain and a burning shock of nerves followed. This time, he couldn't help but react, giving a loud cry. It echoed through the spacious area, bouncing back to him. It sounded wrong, not anything like himself. Never in his life had he experienced more agony than this. Gulping repeatedly and fighting the bloody tears that still rolled down his white cheeks, he pushed himself up a bit more. The action was difficult and excruciatingly painful, but he managed to push himself forward, crawling with the little that was left of his arms and legs.

    Each inch he went felt like climbing a mountain, felt like crawling through pure lava. At this point, pure desperateness to live kept him going. He didn't have much strength left; the pain took over completely. Yet he went on, giving gasps and grunts of pain while he inched through the same area from the beginning—Bellsprout Tower. This time, though, everything looked red, and the area was much bigger. He found he could go much farther than before, crawling beside the leaning, unmoving pillar. He went a lengthy distance, the time to get there slow, due to his sluggish, painful tread. He reached something though, something that gave him the smallest sliver of hope. Finally, he spotted some other form of life: people. He inched up to them, struggling for breath and staring up at them with desperate, bloodshot eyes. There were several men and women, all standing in a line. They were the same complete white as Gold, and all stared at the slanted pillar silently. They looked devoid of life, their expressions blank and their dead eyes never straying from the pillar.

    "H-hey," Gold said, his weak voice quivery. "Hello? Can...can one of you help me?" He swallowed down his aching throat. "Please?" No one even responded to him, still staring. His breaths grew heavier, more frantic. "Please. I-I...I need help. I don't know what's happening, and...and I-I...I—" He broke off, slumping to the floor. 

    He remained there for a while, letting himself mourn over everything and recover from the long crawl. When he recovered enough strength—both physically and mentally—he heaved himself back up and continued on. This time, he didn't let the pain get the best of him. He kept a straight face all the way past the people and onward, only flinching and occasionally giving a groan at the ever-present burn of his injuries.

    As usual, travelling was excruciating and long. Eventually, he reached the end of the pillar, where it chopped off to reveal someone Gold recognized immediately. It was Red, the famed trainer he had beaten years prior. The odd thing was, though, he appeared transparent, almost like a ghost or as if he weren't real at all. Was he a hallucination? No, he couldn't be. Feeling a good deal of relief, Gold crawled towards him, his speed picking up as he did. Even if he and Red had faced off, he remembered them both leaving the battle respectfully and at peace with each other. He knew for certain that Red would aid him in such a time of need.

    However, he was wrong.

    As soon as Gold neared him, Red struck his usual battle pose, and the Unown music started up, only backwards and eerier than ever. Gold hadn't wanted to battle, had only approached him. Baffled, he sucked in his breath. Using every ounce of his strength, he pushed himself up onto the little bit of legs he had, greeted by a rush of stinging, overwhelming pain. He now faced Red, significantly smaller than usual. Gold didn't want to do this, but perhaps, after getting the battle over with or fleeing it somehow, Red could help him. Unless, of course, this was just another cruel part of this sick torment he couldn't escape, just had to endure. 

    Gold shrugged off his bag and rifled through it for a Poké ball, using his arm stump. There was only one, though he knew with the Unown, he had at least six. Paying no mind to it, he jerked the bag to the side, causing the Poké ball to fly out and open. A shiny Celebi emerged, though Gold knew for certain he hadn't had that Pokémon before. He shuddered violently, for the Pokémon gave a long, pain-filled screech. But this wasn't the only thing that terrified him—the Celebi was in half, its usual bright, pink color now dull and rotten. Yet somehow, despite being without half its body, it was alive. It stared at Red miserably while he sent out his Pokémon, Pikachu. The Pikachu's eyes were downcast, and tears ran down his fur, which was noticeably a paler color than usual.

    Trying to ignore the excruciating pain that consumed him, Gold silently calculated what he could do. To his horror, though, he had no items, and when in a random attempt he tried to leave the battle...he could not. Celebi stayed put and he could barely bring himself to move, anyway. He tried commanding a few different attacks, but Celebi only seemed to respond to "Perish Song", noticeably tensing for the attack. Frowning, Gold nodded and awaited Pikachu's attack, who looked much stronger than Celebi. Gold figured it was a lost cause...however, Pikachu's first attack surprised him. He used Curse, which of course, lowered his speed and increased his other stats. It seemed like an odd move, one Gold wasn't sure if a Pikachu could even do. He also wondered what Red's plan was. Did he not want to fight as much as Gold didn't want to fight him? Was there some mysterious force making them battle each other?

    Gold didn't get to think this over any longer, for Celebi attacked. The eerie tune of Perish Song drifted through the air. Gold sighed, knowing full-well that in three turns, both Pokémon would be knocked out. He just hoped they only fainted, instead of dying, like the Cyndaquil had.

    He opened his mouth to issue the next command, but somehow, the battle continued. Baffled, he watched as Pikachu used Flail. He tried to attack Celebi, but it looked weak and unmotivated. It did barely a thing, Celebi only flinching a tad at the action. It immediately used Perish Song after. Strange, since it had already been used. Pikachu responded with Frustration. Gold couldn't keep back a gasp as Celebi nearly fell over, giving a distorted noise. It was already close to fainting? The little that was left of its body quivered, yet it stared at Pikachu with its single, unblinking eye determinedly and used Pain-Split. This surprised Gold, for he knew Celebi didn't have that move. His Pokémon visibly grew stronger, lifting its head higher while Pikachu's lowered. Obviously, now they had the same amount of health. It was any man's game now, except...Perish Song. Seemed he and Red were fighting a fruitless battle, where neither had a shot at victory.

    The next turn came, Pikachu using Mean Look, which didn't accomplish a thing. As expected, Celebi collapsed the moment its time to attack came. Afraid to find out what had happened to it, Gold edged closer, leaning over and reaching with his nub. He wondered if Celebi was alive. He didn't have much feeling in his arm, minus pain, but by touching it and staring at it, the answer became clear. Celebi wasn't moving; it wasn't breathing.

    It was dead.

    Horror clamping around his insides, Gold drew back and glanced over at Pikachu who was mysteriously still alive, and the battle was still going on, as if Gold hadn't lost, after all. Pikachu stared at him sadly, then used Destiny Bond, much to Gold's confusion. As soon as he did, Pikachu also died, falling to the ground beside Celebi. Both corpses faded and Red stepped forward. It seemed Gold had won the battle somehow, but he took no delight in it, not just because of his current circumstance, but the fact he felt only dread and pure terror at the sight of Red. He was transparent like before, only this time...he had no head. The sight of his headless neck sent Gold reeling, unable to take in the blood, the jagged bone, or the fact he was seeing someone he once knew decapitated—dead, yet alive, standing there stalk still. Gold looked away, his breaths bursting from his body faster than before, so quickly it hurt.

    His chest tightened and he felt the urge to scream, to shriek over everything that had happened. He wanted it to be over; he just wanted this sick, never-ending torment to end. He tried to cry out, scream with every fiber of his dismembered, pain-wracked body. The sound choked up as soon as it began to leave him, replaced with a horrifying gurgling noise. Warm liquid rose in his throat and clogged it. He choked, the taste of metal tinging his tongue. A deep, sharp pain burned through his neck and face. His vision fizzled into darkness and his attempt to scream finally happened; he hacked out a sudden spray of blood, and then let out a long screech that barely sounded like his own. It stopped as soon as it started, a horrifying snapping sound breaking through his call of misery. All senses vanished into thin air. He tried to move; nothing happened. He tried to look around; he still saw nothing, couldn't even move his eyes, nor his neck. Did he have eyes? Did he have a neck? He tried to breathe—he couldn't breathe. He tried to move anything, anything at all. Nothing happened. Had he died? Fainted? Lost another part of his body? Were his eyes gone? Was his head gone? Was his entire body gone? Gold could do nothing but agonize over each horrifying thought that reached his muddled mind.

    The eerie music soon faded, and finally, he could see. To his confusion, though, he could not move his eyes. He couldn't even blink. He now stood in his old bedroom, though everything appeared out-of-focus to him. Before he could even begin to comprehend what state he was in, he looked up to find himself face-to-face with six Unown, spelling two words.

    No more.

    "No more," he whispered, his voice so soft and raspy he could hardly hear it. "No more..." It grew to a scream, high-pitched and trembling with every ounce of anguish that radiated off of him. "NO MORE!"  

Chapter Text

    Gold was home, finally home. He stood in his bedroom, the very room he hadn't entirely realized he longed for, but after all this torment, he wanted to savor finally being in a familiar and loving place. However, somehow, he felt no comfort. Instead, he felt...cold...emptiness. He tried to move forward, but nothing happened. He couldn't properly move his eyes, nor his limbs. Oh wait, he didn't have them, did he? He felt like he was nothing, as if he had no body left at all, though he couldn't be sure. Not daring to take in his own appearance, he tried to edge forward. By some miracle, he found himself able to drift around. He seemed to be floating. He had to be, since he'd lost his legs, right? At this point, he didn't question the impossibility of such a thing.

    His thoughts growing clouded, he roamed his room and tried to enjoy the comfort of it. He wanted to believe that had all been a dream, but deep down, he knew it wasn't. The dreaded Unown still drifted through the room, shadowing his every non-existent step. This and his own missing body were enough to convince him otherwise. He could hardly begin to comprehend what had occurred, finally growing desperate while he continued to round his room. He tried to bump into something—his bed, his nightstand, his radio, his TV, anything. He went straight through everything, as if he were a ghost or he didn't exist at all.

    Gold halted in the middle of his room, turning his head which now throbbed with a familiar, pulsing pain. It was the only way he could see anything; his eyes didn't move, and he wasn't sure if he had them anymore. This place gave him a strange sense of sorrow and longing. Even in such familiar surroundings, he felt out-of-place, he felt like nothing, he felt...dead.

    Just as unwanted memories began to return to him, he shook his head and headed for the stairs. He breezed down them easily, and when he reached below, he searched for his mother. After all this turmoil, it was the one person he could think of—his dear mother. She could help him, and oh how he longed to see her again. However, he searched the entire lower level, only to discover she wasn't there.

    She's always home, he thought, staring blankly at the floor. Why isn't she here? I...I miss her, I just want to see her. I want help. I want anything, anything but this! A small sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a sob. He couldn't speak anymore, not since he'd wished for no more. He couldn't feel his throat nor form any words with his tongue. His mouth felt dry and sticky, and it was layered with the metallic taste of blood. Grimacing through the horrid sensations, he continued to roam his house, trying and failing to touch or use anything. Though he still thought that being back in his old home would bring him joy and finally peace from this never-ending nightmare, it was not so. He only felt lonely and more hopeless than ever.

    I don't understand. He gazed around himself. Why is this happening to me? What's even going on? At the beginning, he'd woken up in bizarre surroundings, no memory of what happened shortly before that point. Why? Did he remember anything at all? Any reason as to why this might be occurring? Sometimes he felt he could, but almost always repressed the memories just as they came. Why am I doing that? he thought. What happened to me?! He opened his mouth to speak, mourn over the loss of everything, but of course...he could not. Shutting it again, he decided it would be best to leave. Obviously, there was nothing for him here. Not anymore. Perhaps someone in New Bark Town could aid him, if they didn't flee by the pure horrifying sight of him. He didn't know what he looked like but judging by the fact he seemed to be either transparent and mutilated, or having not much of a body except a head, it was a possibility.

    Gold went for the door, silently debating how he would open it. He didn't have to; he went straight through it, exiting into an abyss. His few muscles seized as soon as he did. Why was it he always returned to darkness? Over and over again, no matter where he wandered, he was always taken back to the same depressing void of nothingness.

    He forced himself to ease up a bit. Lowering his head, he forged on. It didn't seem like he had many other options. At this point, he didn't expect things to get any better and figured he might as well go on. Whatever agony was instore for him, he just didn't care anymore. There was nothing left for him.

    Gold travelled for what like ages, uselessly drifting through the dark. Sometimes it felt like he wasn't progressing at all, for his surroundings never changed. However, every time he looked the way he'd come, his beloved house appeared farther away than before, until finally it was out of sight. He kept going, all thoughts and words virtually lost to him in the midst of the pitch black that consumed him. He half expected the void to vanish, send him into new surroundings as it often did, but nothing happened and he went on with no changes, other than the sinking feeling of hopelessness which grew with every inch he progressed.

    Finally, a change to his surroundings arrived. He passed from the dark into pure whiteness, so bright it nearly blinded him. Wincing hard, he struggled onward. He wasn't sure if he liked this any better than the black, for he still saw nothing. It was emptiness, only him. Not even the Unown followed him anymore. He had never felt so alone, but at this point, he didn't care. He kept going with no purpose, silently wishing for it all to end in some way.

    Like before, it took him ages to get anywhere. He never reached a new location, but in the distance, he began to spot something. A person. From far away, he could not tell who it was, but seeing someone else gave him the first burst of hope he'd felt since coming across Red. He picked up his pace, but it slowed again once he neared this mysterious person. He recognized them immediately and it wasn't who he'd expected at all. 

    It was him.

    Gold came to a halt in front of himself, silently struggling to grasp thoughts. The other Gold stared back at him; he appeared completely normal. Black hair, backwards cap, colorful clothing, all his limbs, and sorrowful grey eyes that held the real Gold's gaze steadily.

    "Goodbye forever..." the other Gold said. The moment he spoke these words, he vanished. Gold stared at where his past self once stood, thinking over everything and trying to make any sense of it. Just as his thoughts began to clear, a sudden numbness spread over what was left of his body, followed by a sharp pang in his head. This pain was followed immediately by a rush of images—a pure nightmare. He saw everything that had happened since the beginning. The darkness, the eerie rooms, the dead Cyndaquil, his fall into the abyss, his missing limbs, the gravestones, the excruciating crawl, Celebi and Pikachu's death, headless Red, his own head ripping from his body, uselessly searching for help, and random horrifying images he could not decipher. It all rushed through his head in a flash, earning a painful, broken scream from him. It cracked through the air, high-pitched and hardly sounding like himself.

    As soon as the sound died away, Gold pitched backwards into darkness. He was falling.

    Falling...falling...falling...

    He didn't even feel himself land. There was no pain, not even the sound of impact. He couldn't move; he couldn't even feel anything. This frightened him, but the feeling vanished to usual emptiness as he took in where he was. He now appeared to be in the same enclosed space from earlier, with the stone walls and the graves outside. Was he standing in it? Lying down? He couldn't be sure, for he still felt nothing. Nothing at all. That is, physically. Emotionally, familiar sorrow took over as finally, finally he completely recalled what had happened. He knew where he was; he knew why this was happening.

    The Unown returned a final time, coming from seemingly nowhere. They formed two words before him, once again voicing his thoughts, the very words he knew were true.

    I'm dead.

    The Unown disappeared, leaving Gold alone once again. He didn't even try to move; he knew he still couldn't. Giving into everything, he decided to accept his fate. He couldn't understand everything that had happened, only knew that he was dead, had been dead from the beginning. In an attempt to deny death, he seemed to have sent himself into some sort of torturous purgatory, an endless loop of darkness, pain, and being reminded of past happenings—of the fact that he was forgotten. He hadn't wanted to die, he wished for so much more, to prove himself once again. He had been such a successful trainer, known all throughout Johto and Kanto, past those regions even. But just as he was beginning to lose his life, he'd realized everyone was forgetting him. His legacy was dying away just as his own body had been. In desperateness, he had clung onto life, hoping to come back, to show the world who he was and what he had accomplished. But in the end, it was all for naught.

    Alone in his own grave, Gold finally gave up and accepted his own words.

    "I'm dead," he whispered while the world faded around him, replaced with blackness.