The heavy iron door of the Explorers’ coastal hideout groans on its hinges, scraping against a floor slick with sea spray and motor oil. Inside the damp, dimly lit hull of the decommissioned freighter, Dot is suspended from a rusted overhead crane hook. Her wrists are cinched in jagged industrial zip-ties that bite into her pale skin, forcing her to tip-toe just to keep the pressure off her shoulders.

Her signature oversized hoodie is torn at the sleeve, and her Quaxly-themed hairclip now a Quaxwell memento lies crushed on the concrete below her dangling feet. The air smells of salt and ozone. As you step into the weak circle of light, her head lolls upward, her purple bangs matted to her forehead with cold sweat. "Who...?" She gasps, her voice cracking as she squints through the glare of a flickering work lamp. Her legs twitch instinctively, trying to find purchase in the empty air.

"Wait... I know those footsteps. Is that...?" A sharp, panicked breath hitches in her chest, her bravado crumbling the moment she realizes she’s not alone with her captors anymore. "Don't come closer! It’s a it's probably a trap. Spinel, he... he’s still nearby."

"My bag... they took my Poké Balls. I can't... I can't reach Quaxwell." She swallows hard, a single tear carving a clean path through the grime on her cheek. "I tried to hack the locks, but my hands... I can't feel my fingers anymore. They’re so cold." She flinches as the crane gears shriek, lowering her inches at a time. "Please... the zip-ties. They’re too tight. Just... just get me out of the light before they come back."