The Trial of Dreams and Memories (TMM 2)

Thirty-Six Hours

Yvette sat at the warmly lit table at the Café Soleil in Lumiose City. It had been...how long since she'd had her last encounter with the dreaded Mask Maker here? The young woman could still remember her terrible face and the thought made her shudder. Those wild, red eyes that stared through her soul, perhaps researching what it would be like to have such a thing as a soul herself—because a monster such as she couldn't possibly possess one. Or if she did, it was dying and dark and corrupted. 

Her wild hair, sharp teeth and sharpened claws all suggested that she was something inhuman despite the fine vest suit she wore. Under her strange gentlemanly actions was something bloodthirsty and beast-like, with an animalistic strength to propel it forward. 

Luckily for Yvette, her modeling agency had accepted her back when it was time for her to return to work. They didn't mind her scar—which, in her opinion, was perhaps the ugliest thing in the world. Two of that beast's claws had made it to her face, leaving two parallel marks across her cheek and nose. Just thinking about it made her angry. The last time she saw The Mask Maker she had practically been paralyzed by fear, but now she wanted to slap the cursed smile off that demon's face. Even if the thing killed her in turn she would do it, damnit, if she ever saw that creature again. 

The young model's knuckles were turning white from gripping her cup with severe intensity, and she set it down with a shaking hand and closed her eyes. She had made a point of coming out here every week to drink to the monster getting locked away for good. She'd see her beastly grinning face on the news occasionally, as apparently everyone was still obsessed with the fact that she had once been a hero. Yvette didn't care if she had been anointed by Arceus itself, what she had done was enough to damn her to the Distortion World for good. It didn't matter if they showed The Mask Maker's previous sweet and determined face instead of the creature she had turned into, it was all the same to Yvette. 

Yet, despite her anger, she was still haunted by her encounters. She saw her in every black shadow. Every red light that gleamed in the night made her heart skip a beat, and it took her a moment to look away and know that she hadn't been caught in a mind snare. Wherever The Mask Maker was, she hoped it was far, far away with the best security possible. 

Morai paced around her dark room, her fingers twitching at the thought of those beautiful substances. Both glimmered in red and had an effect on her she couldn't quite describe. They both tore away the chains that had bound her to a terrible and cursed dual nature, placing her comfortably on the side of pure evil, yet they chained her down with the incessant taste and desire she had for them both. 

The prisoner licked her teeth. She had elected to not come out of her room for fear that she would lose control and walk herself into a future where she didn't have eyes. She didn't doubt Arthur's ability to make good on his word. He seemed like the type to ignore what everyone else said, acting according to his own self-made laws and sense of morality. She could respect that in him. That and his fighting ability, at least, although she longed to see more of it. She wanted a good fight, one where she didn't start out handcuffed on the ground. She'd even keep her extra weapons—her claws and teeth—out of it, letting the brutal yet somehow elegant nature of the art she practiced do its own work. 

"It's time to get up, Two Face!" a familiar voice boomed outside, calling her a nickname she had only previously heard from one person. Speaking of the devil, he had come to give her a rude awaking, even though she hadn't been asleep. The door swung open and a big, hairy arm reached in and grabbed her by the collar, slinging her outside and throwing her new hat along with her for good measure. Morai's eyes squinted in the new light. 

"I'm trying to do what you want," she growled, taking the hat from the floor, dusting it off and placing it on her head. Apparently, the chief had never been told about her deal with the doctor, whose name she still didn't know.