Cyrus woke to the faint hum of lab equipment, a reminder that the world didn't pause for anyone—not even someone who had just survived a near-Mega-Sharpedo incident. He stretched, feeling the soreness in his shoulders from hauling sensors and field packs, and gave a faint sigh. "Well," he muttered, speaking more to the empty room than to anyone else, "apparently nature's full of big teeth. Who knew?"
Ditto shifted on the countertop, mimicking his reflection in a comically exaggerated stretch. Meltan hovered nearby, tiny sparks blinking as if to punctuate Cyrus's sarcasm. He rolled out of bed and toward the sprawling desk where holographic displays projected maps, charts, and field notes from Hau'oli. The island off the northern coast glimmered on the central screen—a dense, forested silhouette surrounded by rough waters, partially obscured by mist. Preliminary sensor readings suggested rich biodiversity, with anomalous elemental signatures hinting at Pokémon activity.
"Alright," Cyrus muttered, tapping a key, "let's see what the Pokédex apparently forgot to tell us." Scrolling through species historically marked extinct, he murmured, "Tyrunt, Amaura… and a few others whose names I'm only pretending to remember because I want to sound cultured." He scribbled notes, occasionally muttering dry commentary: "Extinct, huh? Somebody forgot to send them the memo. Or maybe the memo got eaten by a Sharpedo. Both plausible."
Ditto morphed into a dino looking doll, bouncing in place. "Yes, I see. Sarcasm appreciated," Cyrus said, running a hand over his face. "You're all just as funny as ever."
He cross-referenced fossil data, migratory behavior inferred from bone structure, and potential environmental needs with the island's projected climate. Forest density, temperature gradients, water sources, coastal terrain—all variables that could support—or destroy—extinct species if they had survived in isolation. "Okay," he muttered, leaning back. "If these creatures exist… they're not going to follow any rulebook."
Moving to the corner where his Pokémon were assembling, he surveyed the team. Meltan floated lazily, Charcadet sat upright with the fire tip flickering nervously, Gengar's shadow stretched along the wall like a permanent smirk, and Ditto shifted between random forms with a flair for the dramatic. "All right, team," Cyrus said, adopting a mock-military tone. "Island survival 101. We're going to have predators, unknown flora, possibly an overzealous Aurorus, and don't even get me started on the Tyrunt's social dynamics. This is not a vacation, people. Meltan, that includes you."
The little steel Pokémon sparked in place, metallic eyes gleaming.
"Charcadet," Cyrus said, crouching to meet its gaze, "you're our utility. Fire-based scouting, obstacle clearing, emergency heat generation. I know your enthusiasm for spontaneous combustion, but please, try not to melt the instruments."
Charcadet hissed, flames curling slightly higher, as if offended at the suggestion.
"Gengar," he said, his voice dropping into mock seriousness, "you're reconnaissance and stealth. Shadows, hiding in plain sight, possibly terrifying any Pokémon that thinks it's safe. Your powers are… terrifyingly perfect for that. Don't get attached to anyone, especially me."
Gengar's grin widened, seemingly approving.
"And Ditto," he leaned against a table and folded arms, "you are versatility incarnate. If something looks dangerous, transform. If it looks edible, transform. If I look like I'm about to fall into a volcano, transform me. Yes, I plan to rely on your questionable judgment heavily."
Ditto shapeshifted into a mini Gengar, mimicking a dramatic scowl. Cyrus groaned. "Not helping."
Training sessions took most of the morning. Meltan zipped through an improvised obstacle course, scanning projected energy patterns while avoiding Charcadet's heat bursts. Gengar flickered through shadows, timing movements to pass sensors unnoticed, and Ditto morphed into copies of each Pokémon in turn, testing reactions and practicing support maneuvers. Between sessions, Cyrus scribbled notes: "Observation: Gengar thrives on mischief. Ditto requires positive reinforcement… or threats of starvation. Charcadet: combustible at random intervals, low predictability, high utility. Meltan: extremely stable, but will short-circuit if overstimulated. Note to self: bring fire extinguisher."
By afternoon, the team had earned a short break. Cyrus used the pause to check equipment: portable lab units, field sensors, drones, environmental analyzers, and emergency packs. "Need to pack enough gear to survive whatever this island decides to throw at us," he muttered, arranging supplies in waterproof containers. "Food, medkits, climbing gear, and… okay, probably another fire extinguisher." He paused, tapping a holographic display of the island, running through scenarios. "Temperature extremes, unknown predators, potential avalanches, random flashes of lightning because apparently my life needs drama. Yep, all accounted for. Probably."
Later, he sat cross-legged on the floor, Goomy resting beside him, Ditto curled into a small, sleepy Wailord. Cyrus let the quiet fill the lab, reflecting on the week ahead. This was more than data collection. It was a challenge to his knowledge, instincts, and—whether he admitted it or not—his courage. "Solo trip," he muttered aloud, "no distractions, no heroics, no sidekick drama. Just me, the team, and whatever prehistoric nonsense is waiting on a forgotten island." He allowed a small grin. "Oh, and I get to be sarcastic and brilliant while doing it. Bonus points."
The final day was spent finalizing logistics. Satellite links, sensor calibration, Pokémon readiness drills. He even built small contingency scenarios: Tyrunt ambush. Check. Aurorus interference with environmental sensors. Check. Lost Ditto transforming into unhelpful forms. Check. Unexpected volcanic vent eruption. Maybe check. He paused, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… going to be fun. Possibly deadly. Absolutely memorable."
Ditto morphed into a tiny clipboard, as if to take notes. Cyrus groaned. "You are officially overqualified for sarcasm enforcement."
That night, he packed his final gear into the transport case, ensuring each Pokémon had supplies and specialized equipment. The island loomed in his mind: mysterious, dangerous, and teeming with life that shouldn't exist anywhere but in textbooks. Cyrus allowed himself one last glance at the maps, one last review of readings. A thrill ran through him—excitement laced with apprehension, tinged with the kind of humor only he could appreciate in the face of unknown peril.
"Three days," he muttered. "Three days until I get to see who forgot to go extinct." Meltan buzzed softly, Gengar flickered in a shadowy grin, and Ditto morphed one last time into a tiny, miniature Cyrus giving a thumbs-up. Cyrus chuckled, tossing a datapad lightly into his bag. "All right, team. Let's go meet the prehistoric party."
The lab lights dimmed. Outside, the world was quiet, but somewhere in the distance, the ocean whispered secrets of an island untouched, waiting for them to arrive. And Cyrus—sharp, witty, irreverent, and brilliant—was already ready to dive in.