The far-off jungles of Alola were a place few humans trod—especially not after the recent rumors. Strange creatures, said to be similar to pokemon yet unlike them in every way… some had heard the term “aliens” bandied about; others had categorized them as “Ultra Beasts.”

To an explorer like Derek, it didn’t really matter what it called itself so long as it could be investigated and the information brought back to civilization for a tidy profit.

He was a typical man of his profession—slightly taller than usual, a lean hiker’s build suited for days roughing it in the wilderness, a roguishly tangled mop of hair. Stubble completed the picture. His age was hard for strangers to place, but it was probably somewhere in the twenties.

Derek was unlike his contemporaries in that he traveled without pokemon. The childhood admonitions still rang in his ears as they did for everyone; don’t go out into the wilds alone! The feral creatures will rip you to shreds! Truth be told, wild pokemon weren’t usually so vicious as to seriously hurt a human on their own, especially not a full-grown one. All you had to do was give yourself space and carry yourself with confidence.

(And a few cans of Repel never hurt anyone, either.)

He was days from civilization now, far enough out that he felt confident placing himself at the scene of the reports of this so-called “alien.” It would be a big risk, but the payoff would be incredible.

He was certain the creature was about for how silent it was. Under normal circumstances, the jungle was cacophonous—boughs snapping, fronds swaying, pokemon calling and skittering and fighting and fucking. It was nothing less than a symphony of life.

And yet the pokemon had all quit this part of the jungle, every last one of them, scared off by something… other.

And with that in his head, Derek rounded the corner and found her.

Her? Her. It was impossible for him to think of the alien as anything but female. She was tall, much taller than him, a towering presence by any metric; lithe, too—so rail-thin it was almost distressing. She was humanoid, almost disconcertingly so—two arms, two legs, dexterous claws where a human would have hands. Her feet, for the life of him, looked like stiletto heels. Her chitinous armor—gleaming snow-white, pure and round—almost looked like a dress. She had a wide, flat face, and her insectoid aspect was clear in more than just the armor; a pair of flexile antennae curved off her head, and two silky wing-like membranes crowned just behind them, sweeping back like a curtain of hair.

Derek stood stock still for a moment. She was on the other side of a jungle clearing and clearly hadn’t seen him, but he was so taken in by her presence that seconds had gone by without him making himself scarce. Swallowing, determined to see yet avoid being seen, he took a quiet step backward—then another—

All he did was brush past a frond, a natural sound that should have been swallowed like any other in the jungle. But her head whipped, her eyes fixating on him, and then—

The alien was on him.

One moment she was on the other end of the clearing, the next she was just there, on top of him, her presence looming. Her expression was completely flat, impossible to read, and she made no sound. Derek swallowed wordlessly. The creature wasn’t attacking him. Perhaps if he took one step back—

No, there came her hand, effortlessly catching his wrist. Escape was impossible. She wanted him there, then. Her other hand reached out and probed at the fringed edge of his jacket, playing with the tiny metal teeth of his zipper.

Still kept in that viselike grip, Derek could do nothing but stand there as the creature explored his body—investigating me just like I wanted to investigate her, he thought ruefully. At the very least, she seemed to bear him no ill will, her free hand playing with his jacket and poking into shirt pockets. She was almost like a kid exploring a new toy on their birthday—but perhaps Derek was just projecting. That face was impossible to read.

Eventually she seemed to deduce that his clothes were different from his body. She slipped a hand under his shirt and Derek’s breath caught. Her chitin was… it was cool and impossibly smooth, putting the likes of fresh porcelain or stainless steel to shame. Her touch ranged over his bare chest, making his shirt bulge, and he swallowed. He felt… he felt…