The Right Hand Man, Rye finds, is DEFINITELY the source of all these troubles with memory.

She picks and prods where she does not belong in Rye's memory, tearing apart everything for one answer. When she settles down, things clear up. Suddenly the fog over her mind stops.

Who is the man who did this to us? The million dollar question. A hazy recollection of this man's face was all they had. Dark skin, platinum blonde hair, green eyes.

"Okay, so the base power of Thunder is 120, but it has an accuracy of 75, making it a gamble at best. 75 percent accuracy might as well be a 50-50 shot." Sinnoh finally speaks, but it's with all the exact knowledge that Rye herself possesses. She knows this. She's had this memorized since she was 12. "But if you set up Rain Dance, or even better in earlier generations - Drizzle, then not only does the accuracy shoot to 100% no matter the circumstance, but in gens three through four, it has a 30% chance of breaking protect. Nifty, huh? I set up a Jolteon like this. Slapped Bright Powder on that bad boy, made for one HELL of a lead! Made people rage quit!" Sinnoh Rye laughs, beaming proudly at her brilliant situation.

Oh, what a basic bitch. Right Hand Man has to complain. Elementary, all of it. Why, she can't even use Mega Evolution. What a dolt. Rye reminds Right Hand Rye to shut up. At least being the most vocal, she's gotten used to how her tone is always laced with horrible snark, even within her own head.

The victim of this poor technological breakdown is Ben. The boy is trying, but it's clear - Pokemon isn't his strong suit. Why would it be? This time, they're seated at a lovely little cafe somewhere on what is probably Hellifyno, but there's always the off chance it's... not.

"Uh-huh..." He nods slowly, eyes blank. "So outside of Battle Tower, what else do you do?"

"Contests," Sinnoh answers. "It's really hard. I got my best boy Iggy to win a Master Rank Beauty contest, though! It was tough!" She laughs and slaps her knee.

Oh, hell, and she's got those terrible naming schemes still. Right Hand scoffs, and Rye has to tell her to hush again. Stupid bitch was the one getting all up in arms about getting Sinnoh to talk, and now was more than happy to just talk over her.

"Right. So, um, you do know you're not in Sinnoh right now, do you?" Ben asks next. Rye and Right Hand both listen intently, Right Hand having enough foresight to shut the fuck up for now.

"Yeah, I noticed," Sinnoh says, scratching the side of her head. "I was gonna ask where we are."

"Hellifyno," Ben answers. "It's a hub world of sorts. You don't belong here. Nor do you belong in that body," He explains carefully, and Sinnoh contemplates this. Unlike Right Hand, Sinnoh's thoughts do not ring out. Sinnoh is a brick wall, only coming forth to start explaining that Eeveelutions all have the same base stats but spread out differently, each with one formidable base of 130 which leads to some bizarreness right around Flareon and Leafeon. Of course, Rye knows this anyway.

"Yeah," Sinnoh admits this too. "I thought I felt weird. And... I never dyed my hair." She says, tugging at some of Rye's beautiful blonde locks. Rye scowls as best she can when she doesn't even have control of her own body. Why are they all so shocked?

"That's correct. This isn't what you're supposed to be," Ben nods. "So tell me... you know what your true form is, right? Do you know how you lost it?"

"I... think." Sinnoh's gaze falls. "It... started when I talked to this guy. Tall, blond. Weird eyes." Now Rye's attention is grabbed, and Right Hand's presence is a thorn in her side. Right Hand is practically shoving Rye farther and farther away from the steering wheel.

"Yeah?" Ben presses a little further. "What was weird about him?"

"... I wasn't supposed to," Sinnoh says quietly. "Wasn't it.... I fell into another dimension. We were infringing upon a world we had no right being in. But if I didn't..." A flicker, a twinge, and something snaps in Rye's consciousness. A single connection, a buried recollection suddenly coming to light like it had always been there. "Cyrus would have fought him, and gotten killed or maybe something worse would happen. But I know what was worse. The blond man with the scary eyes... he was a prisoner."

That's right, the Right Hand has the 'eureka' moment too. How could I forget that knucklehead? Does fate dictate I will always meet him? Disgusting.

Straw blond hair, a shade similar to Rye's and yet somehow more disastrous, short and sticking up all over the place. His skin was sickly and pale complexion looking closer to that of the dead, and most notably, eyes black like ink and bright red irises. He wore a black jacket and a red shirt, iron shackles around his wrists but bound to nothing.

"So I did my best to flee. But I had to fight him," Sinnoh says. "And... my team, we came out victorious, but... I don't think things were the same after that."

"Do you know his name?" Ben tries to prod her into a more substantial answer, and the two girls silenced themselves if only just to hear who.

"Morgan," Sinnoh says.

GOD! Right Hand screams right away, so visceral and loud despite her only having a mental presence and no vocal chords that Rye is almost given a headache. I KNOW THAT IDIOT! THAT DOESN'T SOLVE ANYTHING! HE DOESN'T HAVE THE POWER TO DO THIS! HE'S ALL TEETH AND CLAWS AND NO BRAIN!

It was that outburst that suddenly made Sinnoh retract back into the depths of Rye's scattered headspace, and Rye quickly lurches back into control. Ben's staring at her, surprised.

"I, uh," She says breathlessly, like this mental strain actually drained her. "Your friend, she uh, disagrees with that information being useful." Words are failing Rye.

"Oh," Ben is only a little put off. "I kinda knew..." She's seen him countless times through the Right Hand Man's eyes, but this is the first she's had a chance to speak with him. Wrong Ben or not, it's the first time she's spoken to any form of her best friend in nearly ten years. Now that she finally has the chance...

All the things - for ten years - she'd thought about telling Ben, all the apologies, all the things she'd planned - completely disappeared.

"Why's that?"

"Uhhh..." Ben trails off. He's trying, but there's no ignoring how uncertain he is talking to her. It puts a knife right through Rye's heart, but she couldn't say she wasn't expecting some kind of poor reaction from the Benjamin Jacobs who wasn't her friend. "Morgan, we've met him already. He's... uh..."

A Fell Dragon. Right Hand Man slips back in. But...

There's a mutual silence between Ben and Right Hand Man, and Rye huffs in irritation.

"What's wrong?" She asks, an edge of impatience slipping into her tone.

"I'onno," Ben admits, scratching the back of his head and messing his sloppy white hair up more. "I know Morgan, but when I try to recall... It's empty."

My Archnemesis, Right Hand clarifies. But that's all I know. Stupid, right? I should know who my worst enemy is.

"Ben, your memories are fine, right?" There's a spike of panic in her stomach, and Rye shifts in her seat like she's ready to stand. What she'd do once she's on her feet, there's no knowing. "You know the name Morgan. But you're forgetting something, aren't you?"

"Yeah..." Ben stares down at the table, red eyes clouded in intense thought. "By now, there's no way this wasn't intentional."

He's right. Right Hand is back. Whatever happened, you and I are not the only victim. Someone is covering something up with us.

There's finally a lead, but weak and faint. A man built like a monster, with eyes like a ghoul, and dumb as a brick with hair like Rye's.

Morgan, the Fell Dragon. He could join the stupid name club with Rye.

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