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"You certainly have a fair few ideas, don't you? You appear to believe I am completely adversarial to you, that I only have the worse intentions. While I care not what becomes of you and the rest of the Dark One's...acquaintances...I do care what becomes of him and right now his well being is tied to all of you. If you wish to help yourselves, by proxy of him, you will take my well intended advise and seek out the Cult." The person Reno dubbed 'Mister Mushroom' immediately responded to him in his mind, his tone more serious than before with a hint of resentment.

"All-in-all you are free believe what you will, as misguided on certain things as you might be. And of course you're free to do as you wish, but destiny will arrive right on schedule all the same. The only decision you get to make is whether or not you'll live to see that beautiful day of metamorphosis. Oh and...please don't dead name the Dark One, it's rude. Au revoir as they say in Kalos." And with that he not only stopped talking but the mushroom on Reno's person withered away, 'Mister Mushroom' intentionally severing the connection. Looks like he wasn't feeling chatty anymore.

"Ah." A flicker of what looked like disappointment crosses Cruxias' face as he sighs. "Dommage. So you're saying you yourself felt empowered to make that decision. To decide, per your testimony earlier, that you were forced to end his life of your own volition rather than allow him to face justice in a courtroom. I pose the question then, mesdames et messieurs of the jury," He waggles his staff towards the jury box with an exaggerated flourish as he continues. "Whether or not a group that operates with so little scruples as to allow its individual agents to decide whether or not murder was justified and then, as exemplified by their presence here, continue to allow them to operate with no consequences. C'est ce que je te demande. No further questions, your honor." With that, he made his way back over to his prosecutor's desk, moving papers around as the young man adjusted his laptop, scrolling through his notes as he began considering the next Snagem to call to the stand.

"Well, mister L-excuse me, Sub?" Judge Jenny would look up from her own notes, adjusting a pair of rather well-worn spectacles on the bridge of her nose as she appraised the Snagem leader. "The floor is yours to question the witness."

Of the defendants, there was one who had little recourse but simply to listen to Odd's explanation of the Dull incident. She hadn't been born yet. She wasn't even in this reality yet back then. As a result, Monique felt like she was getting a crash course into nooks and crannies of Snagem history, history to her that was far more ancient. Ten years ago? No, that was nearly sixty in her brain. But she was of no use as a witness to Odd's arguments. Unless the topic at hand changed to more recent events, that was not going to change.

She spent the time observing not only Odd but Cruxias. His demeanor and manner of carrying himself got under Monique's fur. She was reminded of King Faba and his lackeys. The Aether Foundation liked white just as much as this guy, which she knew to be true in this reality just as in hers, but behind the dazzling exterior definitely did not lie a soul to match. She could see it plainly. Cruxias was a prosecutor and an interrogator whose questions were designed as bright, luring neon signs, as if they belonged in Nimbasa or The Under, every arrow pointed toward Sub.

She didn't know what line of argument they would lob at her, but it was clear Cruxias would be a formidable foe when she took the stand. And if that was hours away, it was clear today would be a long slog.

Odd quickly rose to his feet as Cruxias began to ask clearly loaded questions. “That’s not what happened and not what I said.” He calmly replied. “Do not twist my words.” He asserted. “You’re bound by the laws here the same as we are.” He reminded Cruxias before sitting back down.

“I told you my life, as well as the lives of others, was being actively threatened and we defended ourselves. It was no choice of mine or anyone’s in Snagem that killing our attacker was the only way to stop him. You think I chose to end a man’s life, Mr. Cruxias?” He asked. “I am a man of the cloth, raised by nuns and priests to be pious and just. I do work as an exorcist outside of Snagem. I remove troublesome spirits from entrapment here in the mortal world either by sending them to the other side or relocating them to more suitable locations.” He explained in his defense. “Dull was a displaced Gengar hybrid. If he had allowed me to help him, I would have done so. But his madness had reached a point where nothing was getting through to him and all he wanted to do was kill and destroy. As he was at his end, his very existence was a miasma of hate and destruction upon the world around him. My skills as a ghost Channeler allow me to sense the negative emotions that dwell within the soul rather than the heart and at Dull’s end, there was nothing but a cloud of those emotions wherever he was: Hatred, envy, a lust for death and destruction, among others, all horrible.” His voice cracked as he spoke here.

He could never know, now, what might have happened if they could have helped Dull. But the hybrid’s Mega Stone had been tucked away ever since that day. He almost wished he had learned to make use of it, now, but it was almost certainly in the hands of SWIPE after they’d raided HQ and taken practically everything that wasn’t nailed down.

Then Sub was called to question him. As the Snagem leader approached him, he wondered just what Sub would -could- ask that would work in their defense? This was no typical trial, not that he had much experience with “typical” trials in the first place. He did know it was unusual for the accused to defend themselves and even more unusual for those in that position to win, however. And then Sub spoke and he understood. A sort of “trial by fire”, so to speak. Strike at the hearts of the jury and public, all watching, likely with bated breath, to see what they had to say and decide the fate of the infamous Team Snagem on both a legal and social level. “We’ve been called to deal with so many Shadow Pokemon at this point, it’s hard to say what the first one was anymore, to be completely honest.” He began. “But I believe it was a pack of Poochyena in Hoenn, before anyone even knew what the Shadow Virus was. We were called by Professor Birch, I think, to help investigate a particularly aggressive pack of the Pokemon. His assistants were either unable or unwilling to aid him due to their aggression, I don’t remember which anymore.”

He began. “I’ll never forget that day, whether it was my first encounter or not.” He admitted. “Those Pokemon, while normally territorial, are jovial, playful pups when left alone. I’ve seen them many times while traveling and they’ve never been truly dangerous to anyone. They often aren’t even that good at hunting for their own food, relying on the Mightyena in their packs to catch prey for them.” He continued. “But that day? Those Poochyena were out for blood.” He shivered for a moment as he thought back to it. “They threw themselves at anything and everything that moved until their bodies were bruised and broken. Some of them were barely clinging to life by the time we saw them and they were so full of rage and hatred for everything around them that even my then-fledgling-Channeler self could sense it.” He recanted, his voice cracking again before he paused, took a deep breath, swallowed hard to steady himself. “They weren’t the only ones, though. Some of the Mightyena in their pack had also been infected. The larger ones were a far greater threat. They fought everything they could. And the local wildlife suffered for it. What even survived their attacks was left with a broken body and a rapidly spreading infection but most things they chose to attack were killed nearly immediately. It was pure luck that Professor Birch escaped, I think. “ He admitted. “Even with Snagem present to assist, we barely managed to fend them all off. I can’t speak for anyone else but I was overwhelmed not just by their power but by their raw emotion. Underneath the rage and the hate, there was fear and heartache and pain. So much pain.” His voice cracked again as he said this part. “It was the most heartbreaking emotion I’ve ever felt, even from the spirits I’ve aided. Those poor Pokemon were acting against their own true desires, attacking anything and everything they could until both their bodies and spirits were broken. Those we were unable to reach in time, the ones already beaten to the point that no help could save them… I could feel their souls crying out for relief. I’ve held onto that memory all this time, letting it drive me whenever we’ve had a Shadow Pokemon to deal with.” He pused for a moment, taking a breath.

Was that even a proper answer to the question? “My own feelings in the moment are still a bit hard to filter out of everything I could feel from those Pokemon.” He admitted. “But there was one thing that I’ll never question: The fear.” He admitted. “I was terrified. Of those Pokemon. Of what they could do - to me and to anyone else. Of what was happening to them, unknown as it was back then.” He hung his head at this point. “And the feeling of helplessness as we were forced to run from them at the time. I wanted to save them. From themselves, each other, whatever was causing them to feel the kind of pain they were in. I didn’t know what it was or how, though. No one did.” He took another calming breath as Sub thanked him before ceding his remaining time to himself.

Ensuring he had been granted the freedom to speak, first, he stood on the witness stand and began to speak from the heart. “Your honor. Members of the jury. People of the public who are watching.” He greeted those gathered. “We of Team Snagem are no war criminals. We are ordinary men and women, just like all of you. We come from varied backgrounds and have very little in common with one another beyond a desire to help people who are unable to help themselves.” He stated, speaking from the heart. “As I stated to Mr. Cruxias not too long ago, I come from a religious background: An orphan raised by nuns and priests in an abbey far from civilization. My husband comes from right here in the heart of Kanto, raised in Celadon City. One of our numbers was once a gym leader’s apprentice in Johto, I think.” He pointed out. “My order’s beliefs state that we cannot be absolved of sin. We must live with our wrongs and do the best we can to avoid them if we wish to stand before Arceus when our final day comes. Ask yourselves this: Why would a man with such beliefs be part of a group that has done the things we have been accused of?” He posited to the gallery before sitting back down, waiting until he was spoken to again, likely to be dismissed, he felt.

~~~

When Leslie questioned their identity, Clare waved their hands in front of themself. “It’s true.” They insisted. “I’m a Nihilego hybrid, after all. Nihilego can regenerate from near-complete destruction as long as their core remains intact.” They explained. “I never wanted to test that before but it seems I got lucky enough to inherit the ability.” They tried to explain. Clearly their memories were more intact than they had been before. “Unfortunately, I need silica to regenerate and I didn’t have enough to reform my normal body. Give me a few days and access to some sand and I can prove I’m Clare.” They would just show off their Pokemon but sadly, they had none of them available. Whether SWIPE had confiscated them after their body had been shattered or if they had been left behind in the team’s flight from captivity was unknown at the moment.