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Borne of Caution (Pokemon Isekai)
- Thread starter Fuggmann
- Start date
Reman Septim
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Jun 1, 2023
- Messages
- 1,278
Blissey can facetank a Focus Blast but not a well-placed Brick Break.
- Joined
- May 31, 2020
- Messages
- 1,314
Norman planned this quite well.
Even if he loses, after putting off a fairly even fight against two of the toughest trainers around, he's gonna get a boost to his reputation.
With how well Slaking has been putting pressure on Sceptile and Marshtomp even with Blissey practically half-asleep, people are gonna be afraid of this guy.
Sceptile was already strong enough to face Pokémon approaching Elite Four tier before he evolved, and with how much stronger he grew in the Dragon Crater, I imagine most trainers watching are slightly scared by the fact they could not see Sceptile when he was moving, and that Slaking managed to grab him anyway.
Even if he loses, after putting off a fairly even fight against two of the toughest trainers around, he's gonna get a boost to his reputation.
With how well Slaking has been putting pressure on Sceptile and Marshtomp even with Blissey practically half-asleep, people are gonna be afraid of this guy.
Sceptile was already strong enough to face Pokémon approaching Elite Four tier before he evolved, and with how much stronger he grew in the Dragon Crater, I imagine most trainers watching are slightly scared by the fact they could not see Sceptile when he was moving, and that Slaking managed to grab him anyway.
Ryumancer
Dragons Are Romance
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2020
- Messages
- 1,247
Tbf, they can sometimes facetank that, too. They may have almost no Defense, but the sheer quantity of HP they have, combined with Recover or Softboiled? It's not a position they like to be in, but it sometimes works, if you're just waiting for Poison or Burn to finish your opponent off. Naturally, you'll be stuck healing yourself every turn, so you can't actually KO such an opponent yourself, after all...
Silveraith
Argent Phantasm
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2016
- Messages
- 317
All official League gym battles are recorded and streamed, it was stated earlier it acts as a source of ad revenue and documentation for officials.
Professor Birch even watched the video of Ninetales vs Typlosion at the Fire-type gym.
Act 3: Chapter 6
Fuggmann
Inventor of Sex 2
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2020
- Messages
- 199
Take a look here!
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As always, thank you for reading.
With every step the crazed Slaking takes, the ground under his feet craters, fragmenting under just the force of him running. In only a second, he's on top of Sceptile and Marshtomp.
"Move!" both Lee and Brendan cry at once.
Sceptile darts to the side, snagging Marshtomp's arm and dragging the smaller pokemon along, and in just the nick of time, as the fist of Norman's pokemon collides where they stood like a meteor.
KRA-BOOM!
'Arceus!' Lee curses to himself as he nearly loses his footing.
Screams run through the spectators as the entire gym shakes under the force of the missed blow, as if Slaking used Earthquake rather than a punch. The plume of dirt that explodes out fills the inside of the barrier with dust instantly, obscuring all of the pokemon within.
Once the sediment begins to settle, Lee is treated to the sight of Slaking's entire fist buried in the ground, and when he pulls it free, the gym's shattered concrete foundation follows.
'Moore wasn't joking when he said Norman was dangerous to underestimate,' Lee thinks to himself, wiping a bead of nervous sweat from his brow. 'A single hit is game over.'
Slaking turns on a heel, bloodshot eyes locking onto a narrow-eyed Sceptile and gaping Marshtomp. With a snort that shoots actual steam from his nostrils, Slaking rears his fist back, tensing for another titanic charge.
"Lee "
Lee's attention shifts to Brendan, who is taking in the suddenly turned tables with a pensive face. "Let me and Marshtomp be the distractions," he says, looking away from the arena for only a moment to meet Lee's eyes. "Sceptile should come at him from behind. The stronger pokemon needs to last if we're going to win."
"Let it never be said that Brendan Birch isn't a team player," Lee says lightly. "Sceptile! Extreme Speed!
"Marshtomp, Mega Punch!"
Both pokemon move, already understanding their roles.
From the front, Brendan's mudfish charges Slaking without so much as an ounce of fear. No, if anything, he's eager, with a grin and his own crackling fist drawn back to meet Slaking head-on.
Sceptile, meanwhile, vanishes from sight with only a swirl of dust around his feet to signal it.
The collision in the center of the ring is like watching a freight train hit a compact car.
Marshtomp's fist meets Slaking's massive knuckles with a thunderous CRACK that reverberates through the arena. For one impossible moment, the mudfish pokemon actually holds his ground, his feet digging trenches in the packed earth as he strains against the titanic force pressing down on him.
Then physics reasserts itself. Violently.
Marshtomp is launched backward like a cannonball, tumbling end over end before catching himself with a desperate Water Gun blast that arrests his momentum just short of the barrier wall. He lands hard on one knee, his right arm hanging limp and visibly swollen, drawing a wave of sympathetic "Oooooh"s from the crowd.
At that exact moment, Sceptile materializes behind Slaking as if he teleported, his regenerated Siphon Blade singing through the air towards the great ape's spine.
The strike connects with a wet thunk, but instead of the deep gouge Lee expected, the blade barely penetrates Slaking's hide. It's as if the energy from Blissy's Golden Egg has turned his skin into living armor.
"Damn," Lee mutters, watching Sceptile leap back as Slaking spins around with a backhand that could cave in a skull.
Across the arena, Norman's expression is as grim as it is determined. "Slaking, ignore the Sceptile. Finish Marshtomp first!"
The tactical logic is both sound and ruthless, drawing a grimace from Lee. Take out the wounded pokemon, then deal with the faster threat without distractions.
Slaking's bloodshot eyes lock onto the struggling Marshtomp, and he charges forward with earth-shaking steps.
"Brendan!" Lee calls out in warning.
"I see him!" Brendan's voice is tight with concentration. "Marshtomp, Bulldoze! Make him work for it!"
Marshtomp slams his good fist into the ground, sending a rolling wave of fractured earth toward Slaking. The massive pokemon simply plows through it, concrete chunks bouncing harmlessly off his reinforced hide.
"Mud Slap! Blind him!"
A spray of thick mud catches Slaking across the eyes, and for a moment he stumbles, pawing at his face. Marshtomp uses the opening to roll aside as another devastating punch craters the ground where he'd been standing.
But it's clear that every exchange is taking its toll. Marshtomp's breathing is labored, his movements just a fraction slower than before. Slaking, meanwhile, seems to be getting stronger, the Golden Egg's effects pushing his already monstrous capabilities to their absolute limit.
"Water Gun, rapid fire!" Brendan orders desperately.
Marshtomp unleashes a barrage of pressurized blasts, each one precise and powerful enough to dent steel. They splash harmlessly against Slaking's advance, the buffed pokemon simply eating the hits as he closes the distance like a tank with a nitrous kit.
Lee watches the one-sided exchange with growing dread. 'This isn't working. Brendan's running out of options, and Marshtomp can't keep this up much longer.'
Could Sceptile manage Slaking alone? Lee has nothing but faith in his green-clad speedster, but Marshtomp's strikes could make a Salamence flinch. Slaking taking the hit and overpowering Brendan's starter isn't good news. For all his ability, Sceptile isn't durable enough for a slugfest, and Slaking only needs to land one good hit to flip the odds.
Lee's mind races as he watches Marshtomp struggle against the relentless assault.
A Crush Claw nearly takes off Marshtomp's head, nicking one of his fins.
A barely-redirected Mega Punch skips off the barrier with a sound like a gong, making the Alakazam keeping the shield up wince.
A Body Press leaves a gaping crater in the floor, one where Marshtomp is nearly flattened.
All the while, Sceptile is darting in and out with furrowed brows. Every slash from Siphon Blade opens a new weeping wound on Slaking, with the ape only bothering to protect his face and his joints, and even those moments last only milliseconds.
'Sceptile's attacks are landing, but they're not doing enough damage fast enough.' Lee glances at Brendan, who is shouting into the arena, trying every trick he can to keep his pokemon up and conscious. 'At this rate, Marshtomp goes down, and then it's a one-on-one.'
His eyes flick between the combatants, calculating angles and possibilities. Slaking's defense has clearly spiked along with his offense. Whatever that Golden Egg did, it turned him into a walking fortress.
'I need to force Norman's hand with a cannon that fortress walls can't handle, make him choose between finishing Marshtomp or dealing with a threat he can't ignore.'
"Sceptile!" Lee calls out, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Solar Beam! Maximum charge!"
Sceptile's head snaps toward him, yellow eyes widening slightly in surprise. It's a risky move, and Lee can see the question in Sceptile's eyes.
Solar Beam requires time and focus, leaving the user vulnerable, but if any attack can force Norman to change priorities, it has to be the only move that plays second fiddle to Frenzy Plant.
The grass-type breaks off from his hit-and-run tactics, putting significant distance between himself and the melee. He plants his feet, tilts his head back, and takes a deep, measured breath. The sunlight streaming through the arena's windows seems to bend toward him once more, gathering at the tips of his tail spines and flowing up his back in an ever-brightening golden stripe.
Lee watches Norman's face, waiting for the inevitable order to redirect Slaking's attention. Solar Beam is widely considered to be on par with Hyper Beam in the right hands. No sane trainer would let their pokemon take a hit like that.
But… The order never comes. Norman remains focused on Marshtomp's increasingly desperate evasions. "Slaking, keep the pressure on Marshtomp! Don't let up!" he calls.
'What?' Lee's brow furrows in confusion. 'Why isn't he…? Solar Beam could end the fight if it lands! Why ignore it?'
A few unspoken ideas roll in his head, a few idly flowing in from Ninetales, but it doesn't make sense.
The light gathering around Sceptile intensifies, becoming almost painful to look at directly. Marshtomp rolls away from another crater-making punch, his movements noticeably sluggish now. The mudfish pokemon is running on fumes.
Sceptile's charging reaches its crescendo after the longest ten seconds of Lee's life, the collected solar energy humming through the gecko pokemon's body and lighting him up from within. He lowers his head, the brilliant light shifting to his mouth in a rolling, molten orb, and Lee can see his pokemon's lips blister a little with the sun's fury floating between them.
That's when Norman's lips curl into the faintest of smiles.
"Good thing Slaking's alone in the arena, since it's rude to hit teammates," the gym leader remarks casually. "Slaking! Blizzard!"
All of a sudden, Norman delaying his response makes sense. Lee's jaw drops, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Brendan cursing under his breath.
'Fuck me.'
Sceptile's Solar Beam erupts from his mouth as a golden lance, speeding towards its target. At that same instant, the great ape's arm fur glitters with newly-formed ice crystals, and when he throws his arms in a circle, a howling whiteout explodes outward to meet the beam.
Solar Beam slams into the heart of Blizzard like a red-hot spear thrust into a frozen lake, the wind and frost as dense as solid ice. For a heartbeat, the two attacks war against each other in the center of the arena. Molten light wrestling with crystalline death in a maelstrom of steam and prismatic reflections.
But Solar Beam, for all its heat and power, is a beam of Grass TE trying to overpower a tempest of Ice TE.
The golden beam begins to waver, its coherence fractured by the chaotic winds. Ice crystals slice through the light like razors, weakening it, destabilizing it, until the whole beam detonates.
The explosion sends a shockwave through the arena that rattles teeth and stops hearts. Sceptile's eyes go wide as his own attack turns against him, and he throws himself backward out of the blast zone, Siphon Blade extending to slash away the following razor-sharp ice shards that chase him like seeking missiles. He lands hard against the far barrier wall, steam rising from his scales as the bitter cold gnaws at him even from this distance.
Marshtomp, caught mere feet from the epicenter of the arctic maelstrom, has nowhere to run.
The Water pokemon's bellow of agony is cut short as the supernatural cold washes over him and saps even the will to cry out. Frost spreads across his blue hide in seconds, creeping over his fins, his arms, his face. His movements slow, then stop entirely as ice locks his joints in place. Within moments, he's encased in a shell of glittering crystal, frozen solid and helpless.
"Marshtomp!" Brendan's voice cracks with horror.
Slaking drops the Blizzard with a satisfied grunt, the vortex gradually dissipating to reveal snow and hoarfrost on every surface of the arena. Without hesitation, he draws back one massive fist, energy crackling around his knuckles.
"Mega Punch!"
The blow connects with the sound of breaking glass. Marshtomp's icy prison shatters into a thousand fragments as the massive fist smashes into his stomach, making his eyes bug out.
Slaking then twists, carrying Marshtomp with the blow in a half-circle, then slams his smaller foe into the transparent barrier wall, pinning him there with his knuckles.
Another round of exclamations rolls through the stands as Marshtomp slumps over the sternum-sized hand keeping him aloft.
Beside Lee, Brendan falls to his knees. Shock, dismay, and a hundred and one other emotions flying over his face.
Marshtomp coughs weakly, a wet, rattling sound that sends droplets of blood spattering against Slaking's arm. His body trembles just from the effort of staying conscious, every breath a monumental struggle with his no-doubt powdered ribs.
Lee sighs. 'Damn it all. Sorry, Brendan. I think Marshtomp is about to be smoked.' Outwardly, he prepares for a one-on-one and says: "Sceptile, Synthesis!"
Lowering his pale arms, Sceptile shuts his eyes, glowing faintly as the sunlight streaming in through the windows starts to chase away the painful chill in his bones.
On the other side of the arena, Slaking begins to withdraw his massive fist, clearly satisfied that his opponent is finished. As his knuckles start to pull away from the wall, though, Marshtomp's hand shoots out, frost-bitten fingers wrapping around the great ape's thick wrist in an iron grip.
The mudfish pokemon's head tilts up, one eye swollen shut, the other blazing through a curtain of blood streaming from a split in his scalp. His grip tightens, refusing to let go even as his arm shakes with the effort.
Slaking looks down at the smaller pokemon with an expression that, to Lee, seems equal parts annoyance and grudging respect. With a low rumble, Norman's ace draws back his free fist, energy crackling around the knuckles as he prepares to finally turn this two-on-one into something more fair.
The massive fist falls like a sledgehammer.
Marshtomp's other hand flies up at the last possible second, palm meeting Slaking's knuckles with a resounding CRACK that echoes through the suddenly silent arena. The tremendous blow stops dead, caught by a pokemon a fraction of Slaking's size and weight.
'No way…' Lee's eyes widen, both itching a little as Ninetales intently watches through them. 'Brendan, I think you're about to be a damn happy kid.'
He's proven right when Marshtomp begins to glow.
The light starts as a faint shimmer around his battered form, but quickly intensifies into a brilliant white that forces spectators to shield their eyes. His body contorts and stretches within the cocoon of energy, muscles expanding, bones lengthening, his very essence reshaping itself. The glow pulses like a heartbeat, each flash brighter than the last, until the entire arena is bathed in the shine.
Brendan's expression transforms in an instant, dismay melting away into explosive joy. "Yes! YES! You did it, buddy!" He leaps back to his feet, both fists in the air.
Lee exhales a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, tension bleeding from his shoulders. 'Talk about perfect timing.'
The shape inside the white light grows larger, and larger, and yet larger still, and when it fades, where Marshtomp once struggled stands a towering, snarling Swampert.
The amphibian pokemon is unearthly. Marshtomp was already a bundle of muscle that could swim, but Swampert takes everything his old body had and dials it to eleven. Blue skin is stretched taut over dense, coiled muscle, appearing so tight that it looks as if his hide would split open if he flexed with too much enthusiasm.
His stature, likewise, is out of this world. Marshtomp stood head and shoulders over other examples of his species at three and a half feet tall, and he has more than doubled in height. If Lee's eye is correct, then even with his species' semi-four legged slouch, Swampert has to be seven feet tall, minimum.
Without warning, Swampert's arm pistons forward in a simple, unenhanced punch that catches Slaking square in the jaw. The impact reverberates through the arena like a thunderclap, and for the first time since Blissey powered him up, Norman's ace staggers backward, shaking his head to clear the stars in his vision.
Freed from the pin, Swampert rolls his shoulders, then looks down at his hands, flexing the unfamiliar digits that greet his eyes.
Then he clenches them into fists, draws in a deep breath that makes his chest expand, and throws back his head with a roar.
The sound is primal, violent, a challenge that seems to come from the very depths of the earth itself. The sheer force of it kicks up a gale that sends dirt and melting snow swirling through the arena, and the psychic barriers flare a translucent pink as they strain to contain the acoustic assault. Several spectators in the front rows clap their hands over their ears, wincing at the volume.
Brendan, though?
From the look on his face, Lee would say it's the most beautiful sound the kid has ever heard.
Brendan only allows himself to admire his freshly evolved friend for a second, then he shakes off most of his excitement, though the grin plastered across his face refuses to budge. He turns to Lee, eyes bright with renewed confidence. "Plan's unchanged," he says, voice steady despite his obvious elation. "Let Swampert take the big guy head-on. Sceptile can angle for something nasty while they're locked up."
Lee's answering smile is sharp with anticipation. "Couldn't agree more."
Oh, he can already feel that badge in hand.
"Swampert!" Brendan calls out, his voice cracking a bit with his enthusiasm. "Show him what you're made of! Close quarters combat!"
"Sceptile," Lee adds, "Siphon Blade, don't let him rest!"
Across the arena, Norman looks absolutely poleaxed by the sudden reversal of fortune. To his credit, the gym leader shakes off his shock in seconds, his jaw set.
"Slaking! Engage! Don't let them dictate the pace!"
Swampert charges forward, bounding on his short, coiled legs, and Slaking rushes to meet him halfway.
Brendan's pokemon cocks back a white-knuckled fist like a spring-loaded hammer.
Norman's does the same, his teeth bared in a grimace.
Both strike, and Lee swears he sees sparks, not from any move, but from the air itself igniting under the force of the two pokemon's raw strength.
When their fists collide, an impact reverberates through the arena that makes the entire building groan. The psychic barriers flare again just from the shockwave.
Where Marshtomp struggled desperately against Slaking's overwhelming power, Swampert meets it pound for pound, blow for blow. Both fighters abandon any pretense of finesse, throwing haymakers that could demolish concrete walls. Each punch lands with the force of a wrecking ball and the sound of a cannon shot, making the dust and slush on the floor dance with each impact.
Swampert can't wipe the savage, wild grin off his face even if he tried. It doesn't matter how many times Slaking's massive fists find their mark, it doesn't matter how many purple bruises are blooming across his hide, he's giving as good as he gets and then some. Lee can only imagine that the intoxicating rush of newfound strength has the Water and Ground type deep in a special kind of high.
Swampert throws his head back, laughing a deep laugh as bloodthirsty as it is manic.
Slaking, by contrast, is furiously trying to keep pace, his eyes growing wider and teeth clenching harder with each exchange. Every blow from the freakishly powerful Swampert sends ripples through his whole body, and he can't help but wince as Swampert's knuckles find their mark again and again.
"Slaking, back off and re-!" Norman's order is lost in the dull boom of another punch connecting with Slaking's stomach.
There's no time for either combatant to break away and use proper techniques, and Norman's cries for Slaking to make distance mean nothing. All they can do is swing wildly, each trying to batter the other into submission through pure, overwhelming force.
But Slaking isn't just dealing with one opponent, as the rapidly multiplying slash wounds on his limbs and back give away.
Every time the great ape tries to turn and swat away the green blur harassing his flanks, he pays dearly for taking his eyes off Swampert. A devastating uppercut to the ribs, a cross that snaps his head sideways, a body blow that drives the air from his lungs in a whooshing gasp, all that and more each time he tries to stop the Grass-type tearing into him.
Sceptile is relentless, zipping in with Extreme Speed to open fresh wounds with Siphon Blade before vanishing like a ghost the instant retaliation looks like it's on its way. Each strike is precise, calculated, targeting joints, tendons, anywhere that will slow the mighty ape down.
Cut, cut, cut, cut! Red is pooling at Slaking's feet, dyeing the slush and mud a ruddy color.
Try as he might, Slaking's burst of energy is beginning to flag under the relentless two-pronged assault. His movements are growing just a fraction slower, his guard dropping incrementally lower with each passing second. The Life Orb glows brighter and brighter around Slaking's neck, pulling away all the limiters on the behemoth, but it's only delaying the inevitable.
Norman's ace is losing.
Sceptile flashes in again, his Siphon Blade finding its mark on the back of Slaking's right leg. The glowing leaf slices deep into Slaking's achilles tendon, and Lee watches with grim satisfaction as the great ape's leg simply gives out beneath him.
Slaking crashes to one knee with a pained grunt, his massive frame suddenly vulnerable and off-balance. The brief lull in the melee stretches for two precious seconds, long enough for Swampert to see his opening.
The amphibian rears back, his whole body coiling as he puts his entire seven-foot frame behind one final, bone-shattering punch. With yet another bellow, his fist flies forward with enough force to derail a train, connecting with Slaking's jaw in a blow that lifts the massive pokemon clean off the ground.
Slaking flies backward through the air, end over end, before crashing down in the center of the arena with an impact that sends cracks spider-webbing through the floor. Dust and mud explode outward from the point of impact, splattering on and running down the psychic walls.
For a moment, the great ape lies motionless. Then, incredibly, he begins to push himself up, his arms trembling with the effort. Blood streams from dozens of wounds, his eyes struggle to focus, but still, still, he forces himself back to one knee, swaying and punch-drunk.
The crowd erupts into absolute pandemonium. The entire arena is a wall of sound, spectators losing their minds at the incredible back-and-forth fight.
In the arena, Swampert approaches the wounded Slaking from the front while Sceptile circles around behind, both pokemon still tense and ready to jump to action the moment the word is given.
Slaking stares up at Swampert through blood and exhaustion, his expression a mixture of frustration and stubborn defiance. Even now, even broken and beaten, Norman's ace refuses to yield.
Swampert makes a deep, rumbling croak, almost conversational, as if to say no hard feelings. Then he raises both massive fists high above his head, fingers interlocked for a hammer strike.
"End it, Swampert!" Brendan's voice cuts through the noise.
The blow sends Slaking's skull bouncing off the cracked ground with a sickening thud, his eyes rolling back as consciousness finally abandons him. The mighty pokemon's body goes completely slack, his labored breathing the only sign he's still alive.
The referee steps forward on his chalk-line box, his voice mystified as he begins the count. "One! Two! Three!" He raises his hand with a flourish, voice only heard over the onlookers thanks to his microphone. "Slaking is unable to battle! The winners are challengers Brendan Birch and Lee Henson!"
The noise from the stands redoubles, cameras flashing. Lee can see Zinnia in the stands, on her feet and cheering wildly, her hands thrown high in the air as she screams herself hoarse.
They actually did it. Norman threw their plans in the trash, and they still won!
'See, love? Nothing to worry about. Sceptile and Swampert had it handled.' Lee smiles as the barrier around the battleground begins to fade.
The mental click of a non-tongue echoes in his head. 'I suppose…'
'We'll hit up an ice cream shop after this, both to celebrate the win and to make up for benching you. Fair trade?'
That makes the usually omni-present warmth from Ninetales begin to flow readily again. 'Very well, I will accept your bribe,' she replies with a sniff. 'Three scoops of peach and I will forget your transgressions… for today.'
'Lucian was right. We do sound domestic.'
Nine's love-laced giggles fade into the back of his mind as he and Brendan make their way to meet Norman in the utterly wrecked arena.
"You did it! You did it!" Brendan races ahead towards his giant starter, grin so wide it has to hurt. He does a flying leap into Swampert's open arms, and the two twirl around in a circle (or Swampert twirls around and Brendan is along for the ride), laughing in jittery, adrenaline-fueled joy like the kids they are.
"Do you want a hug, too?" Lee jokes as he steps up next to Sceptile.
The tall lizard just looks down at him with a flat expression, crossing his arms and shifting his chewing twig in his lips.
"Well, if you wanna be like that, fine." Lee mirrors Sceptiles crossed arms with a smile, looking at the nubs where Sceptile's back seeds were. "Hug or no hug, I'm so damn proud, Sceptile. You went in, messed up an Elite pokemon, and came out with barely a scratch. We'll rush-order some of that special Fallarbor kale, and I'll make a king-sized veg quiche for dinner tonight, all for you."
The prospect of a hearty meal after a big win? Now that has Sceptile smiling.
Norman quietly recalls Slaking with a flash of red light, his shoulders sagging slightly as the massive pokemon disappears. Lee and Brendan, with their pokemon at their sides, make their way across the crater-pocked arena to meet him in the center, stepping carefully around the worst of the damage.
When they converge, Norman looks genuinely exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that comes from watching a carefully laid plan crumble in real time. His smile, however, seems genuine as he extends a hand to each of them in turn.
"Congratulations, both of you," he says, his grip firm despite his fatigue. "That was one hell of a battle. You earned this win."
"Thanks." Brendan beams, practically bouncing on his toes.
Norman chuckles, then his expression grows more thoughtful. "I have to admit, I planned for days to face down your Ninetales and Latias," he says, gesturing between Lee and Brendan. "Even taught Slaking Blizzard and Surf specifically to try and exploit their typings."
Lee's mouth quirks into a dry smile. "We figured something like that was coming with the sudden format change. That's why we mixed up our team picks."
"Smart thinking." Norman nods, even if his smile grows uncertain. He glances around at the destroyed arena before leaning in, voice low. "I hope there's no hard feelings about the unexpected double battle format." His voice carries a note of concern. "I genuinely thought a straightforward challenge would have been too easy for trainers of your caliber..." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "And on my end, if I was going to lose, I needed to make it an exciting, valiant loss for the bean counters upstairs."
Brendan waves it off immediately. "No worries! That was the most fun I've had in a battle in weeks!"
Lee stays quiet, not entirely sure how to respond. He understands that the Gym Leaders all have political pressures coming down from on high, and it sounds like Norman is feeling it keenly for some reason, but the setup still feels a tad unfair.
Norman seems to pick up on the reason behind his silence, but doesn't press. Instead, he turns toward the crowd and raises one hand high, gradually bringing the excited hollering and whooping down to a manageable roar.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Norman says, voice carrying clearly over the arena speakers, "today you witnessed something special. These two trainers and their pokemon stepped up to an unprecedented challenge like true professionals, proving they possess that rare balance of skill and power that defines a truly masterful trainer."
He turns back to Lee and Brendan, producing two gleaming badges from his jacket pocket. The Balance Badges catch the arena lights, their metallic surfaces reflecting tiny rainbows.
"Lee Henson, Brendan Birch," Norman says formally, "I present you with the Balance Badge, proof of your victory here today."
As Lee and Brendan take their badges and hold them high for the crowd, another thunderous round of cheers erupts from the stands, accompanied by a storm of camera flashes that turn the arena into a constellation of light.
The badge is small, but it's laden heavy with sweet, sweet achievement.
Five down, three to go.
Unbeknownst to most, a woman, her petite form wrapped in a fine kimono of pink silk, slips away from the Petalburg Gym arena with a delicate frown on her face.
"A bond I was shown, yet it wasn't the correct one…" she mutters to herself, stepping out onto the street.
All around her, foot traffic parts like water, yet not a single set of eyes acknowledges her, nor do a single set of ears hear her murmurs.
"Foolish kits, reaching directly into the fire simply because you find the light and the warmth captivating," she continues, with only herself to hear. "You will burn yourselves. I warned you that you would burn yourselves, yet you trundle on, insisting your paws feel not the heat."
Behind her, a paper cup discarded on the ground is blown away, as if caught in the wake of something agitated and unseen whipping about.
"Fine then," she huffs, casting a look over her shoulder to the Gym. "If you insist on playing such coy and childish games with me, then clearly needs must." She resumes her march.
"I shall test you myself."
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With every step the crazed Slaking takes, the ground under his feet craters, fragmenting under just the force of him running. In only a second, he's on top of Sceptile and Marshtomp.
"Move!" both Lee and Brendan cry at once.
Sceptile darts to the side, snagging Marshtomp's arm and dragging the smaller pokemon along, and in just the nick of time, as the fist of Norman's pokemon collides where they stood like a meteor.
KRA-BOOM!
'Arceus!' Lee curses to himself as he nearly loses his footing.
Screams run through the spectators as the entire gym shakes under the force of the missed blow, as if Slaking used Earthquake rather than a punch. The plume of dirt that explodes out fills the inside of the barrier with dust instantly, obscuring all of the pokemon within.
Once the sediment begins to settle, Lee is treated to the sight of Slaking's entire fist buried in the ground, and when he pulls it free, the gym's shattered concrete foundation follows.
'Moore wasn't joking when he said Norman was dangerous to underestimate,' Lee thinks to himself, wiping a bead of nervous sweat from his brow. 'A single hit is game over.'
Slaking turns on a heel, bloodshot eyes locking onto a narrow-eyed Sceptile and gaping Marshtomp. With a snort that shoots actual steam from his nostrils, Slaking rears his fist back, tensing for another titanic charge.
"Lee "
Lee's attention shifts to Brendan, who is taking in the suddenly turned tables with a pensive face. "Let me and Marshtomp be the distractions," he says, looking away from the arena for only a moment to meet Lee's eyes. "Sceptile should come at him from behind. The stronger pokemon needs to last if we're going to win."
"Let it never be said that Brendan Birch isn't a team player," Lee says lightly. "Sceptile! Extreme Speed!
"Marshtomp, Mega Punch!"
Both pokemon move, already understanding their roles.
From the front, Brendan's mudfish charges Slaking without so much as an ounce of fear. No, if anything, he's eager, with a grin and his own crackling fist drawn back to meet Slaking head-on.
Sceptile, meanwhile, vanishes from sight with only a swirl of dust around his feet to signal it.
The collision in the center of the ring is like watching a freight train hit a compact car.
Marshtomp's fist meets Slaking's massive knuckles with a thunderous CRACK that reverberates through the arena. For one impossible moment, the mudfish pokemon actually holds his ground, his feet digging trenches in the packed earth as he strains against the titanic force pressing down on him.
Then physics reasserts itself. Violently.
Marshtomp is launched backward like a cannonball, tumbling end over end before catching himself with a desperate Water Gun blast that arrests his momentum just short of the barrier wall. He lands hard on one knee, his right arm hanging limp and visibly swollen, drawing a wave of sympathetic "Oooooh"s from the crowd.
At that exact moment, Sceptile materializes behind Slaking as if he teleported, his regenerated Siphon Blade singing through the air towards the great ape's spine.
The strike connects with a wet thunk, but instead of the deep gouge Lee expected, the blade barely penetrates Slaking's hide. It's as if the energy from Blissy's Golden Egg has turned his skin into living armor.
"Damn," Lee mutters, watching Sceptile leap back as Slaking spins around with a backhand that could cave in a skull.
Across the arena, Norman's expression is as grim as it is determined. "Slaking, ignore the Sceptile. Finish Marshtomp first!"
The tactical logic is both sound and ruthless, drawing a grimace from Lee. Take out the wounded pokemon, then deal with the faster threat without distractions.
Slaking's bloodshot eyes lock onto the struggling Marshtomp, and he charges forward with earth-shaking steps.
"Brendan!" Lee calls out in warning.
"I see him!" Brendan's voice is tight with concentration. "Marshtomp, Bulldoze! Make him work for it!"
Marshtomp slams his good fist into the ground, sending a rolling wave of fractured earth toward Slaking. The massive pokemon simply plows through it, concrete chunks bouncing harmlessly off his reinforced hide.
"Mud Slap! Blind him!"
A spray of thick mud catches Slaking across the eyes, and for a moment he stumbles, pawing at his face. Marshtomp uses the opening to roll aside as another devastating punch craters the ground where he'd been standing.
But it's clear that every exchange is taking its toll. Marshtomp's breathing is labored, his movements just a fraction slower than before. Slaking, meanwhile, seems to be getting stronger, the Golden Egg's effects pushing his already monstrous capabilities to their absolute limit.
"Water Gun, rapid fire!" Brendan orders desperately.
Marshtomp unleashes a barrage of pressurized blasts, each one precise and powerful enough to dent steel. They splash harmlessly against Slaking's advance, the buffed pokemon simply eating the hits as he closes the distance like a tank with a nitrous kit.
Lee watches the one-sided exchange with growing dread. 'This isn't working. Brendan's running out of options, and Marshtomp can't keep this up much longer.'
Could Sceptile manage Slaking alone? Lee has nothing but faith in his green-clad speedster, but Marshtomp's strikes could make a Salamence flinch. Slaking taking the hit and overpowering Brendan's starter isn't good news. For all his ability, Sceptile isn't durable enough for a slugfest, and Slaking only needs to land one good hit to flip the odds.
Lee's mind races as he watches Marshtomp struggle against the relentless assault.
A Crush Claw nearly takes off Marshtomp's head, nicking one of his fins.
A barely-redirected Mega Punch skips off the barrier with a sound like a gong, making the Alakazam keeping the shield up wince.
A Body Press leaves a gaping crater in the floor, one where Marshtomp is nearly flattened.
All the while, Sceptile is darting in and out with furrowed brows. Every slash from Siphon Blade opens a new weeping wound on Slaking, with the ape only bothering to protect his face and his joints, and even those moments last only milliseconds.
'Sceptile's attacks are landing, but they're not doing enough damage fast enough.' Lee glances at Brendan, who is shouting into the arena, trying every trick he can to keep his pokemon up and conscious. 'At this rate, Marshtomp goes down, and then it's a one-on-one.'
His eyes flick between the combatants, calculating angles and possibilities. Slaking's defense has clearly spiked along with his offense. Whatever that Golden Egg did, it turned him into a walking fortress.
'I need to force Norman's hand with a cannon that fortress walls can't handle, make him choose between finishing Marshtomp or dealing with a threat he can't ignore.'
"Sceptile!" Lee calls out, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "Solar Beam! Maximum charge!"
Sceptile's head snaps toward him, yellow eyes widening slightly in surprise. It's a risky move, and Lee can see the question in Sceptile's eyes.
Solar Beam requires time and focus, leaving the user vulnerable, but if any attack can force Norman to change priorities, it has to be the only move that plays second fiddle to Frenzy Plant.
The grass-type breaks off from his hit-and-run tactics, putting significant distance between himself and the melee. He plants his feet, tilts his head back, and takes a deep, measured breath. The sunlight streaming through the arena's windows seems to bend toward him once more, gathering at the tips of his tail spines and flowing up his back in an ever-brightening golden stripe.
Lee watches Norman's face, waiting for the inevitable order to redirect Slaking's attention. Solar Beam is widely considered to be on par with Hyper Beam in the right hands. No sane trainer would let their pokemon take a hit like that.
But… The order never comes. Norman remains focused on Marshtomp's increasingly desperate evasions. "Slaking, keep the pressure on Marshtomp! Don't let up!" he calls.
'What?' Lee's brow furrows in confusion. 'Why isn't he…? Solar Beam could end the fight if it lands! Why ignore it?'
A few unspoken ideas roll in his head, a few idly flowing in from Ninetales, but it doesn't make sense.
The light gathering around Sceptile intensifies, becoming almost painful to look at directly. Marshtomp rolls away from another crater-making punch, his movements noticeably sluggish now. The mudfish pokemon is running on fumes.
Sceptile's charging reaches its crescendo after the longest ten seconds of Lee's life, the collected solar energy humming through the gecko pokemon's body and lighting him up from within. He lowers his head, the brilliant light shifting to his mouth in a rolling, molten orb, and Lee can see his pokemon's lips blister a little with the sun's fury floating between them.
That's when Norman's lips curl into the faintest of smiles.
"Good thing Slaking's alone in the arena, since it's rude to hit teammates," the gym leader remarks casually. "Slaking! Blizzard!"
All of a sudden, Norman delaying his response makes sense. Lee's jaw drops, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Brendan cursing under his breath.
'Fuck me.'
Sceptile's Solar Beam erupts from his mouth as a golden lance, speeding towards its target. At that same instant, the great ape's arm fur glitters with newly-formed ice crystals, and when he throws his arms in a circle, a howling whiteout explodes outward to meet the beam.
Solar Beam slams into the heart of Blizzard like a red-hot spear thrust into a frozen lake, the wind and frost as dense as solid ice. For a heartbeat, the two attacks war against each other in the center of the arena. Molten light wrestling with crystalline death in a maelstrom of steam and prismatic reflections.
But Solar Beam, for all its heat and power, is a beam of Grass TE trying to overpower a tempest of Ice TE.
The golden beam begins to waver, its coherence fractured by the chaotic winds. Ice crystals slice through the light like razors, weakening it, destabilizing it, until the whole beam detonates.
The explosion sends a shockwave through the arena that rattles teeth and stops hearts. Sceptile's eyes go wide as his own attack turns against him, and he throws himself backward out of the blast zone, Siphon Blade extending to slash away the following razor-sharp ice shards that chase him like seeking missiles. He lands hard against the far barrier wall, steam rising from his scales as the bitter cold gnaws at him even from this distance.
Marshtomp, caught mere feet from the epicenter of the arctic maelstrom, has nowhere to run.
The Water pokemon's bellow of agony is cut short as the supernatural cold washes over him and saps even the will to cry out. Frost spreads across his blue hide in seconds, creeping over his fins, his arms, his face. His movements slow, then stop entirely as ice locks his joints in place. Within moments, he's encased in a shell of glittering crystal, frozen solid and helpless.
"Marshtomp!" Brendan's voice cracks with horror.
Slaking drops the Blizzard with a satisfied grunt, the vortex gradually dissipating to reveal snow and hoarfrost on every surface of the arena. Without hesitation, he draws back one massive fist, energy crackling around his knuckles.
"Mega Punch!"
The blow connects with the sound of breaking glass. Marshtomp's icy prison shatters into a thousand fragments as the massive fist smashes into his stomach, making his eyes bug out.
Slaking then twists, carrying Marshtomp with the blow in a half-circle, then slams his smaller foe into the transparent barrier wall, pinning him there with his knuckles.
Another round of exclamations rolls through the stands as Marshtomp slumps over the sternum-sized hand keeping him aloft.
Beside Lee, Brendan falls to his knees. Shock, dismay, and a hundred and one other emotions flying over his face.
Marshtomp coughs weakly, a wet, rattling sound that sends droplets of blood spattering against Slaking's arm. His body trembles just from the effort of staying conscious, every breath a monumental struggle with his no-doubt powdered ribs.
Lee sighs. 'Damn it all. Sorry, Brendan. I think Marshtomp is about to be smoked.' Outwardly, he prepares for a one-on-one and says: "Sceptile, Synthesis!"
Lowering his pale arms, Sceptile shuts his eyes, glowing faintly as the sunlight streaming in through the windows starts to chase away the painful chill in his bones.
On the other side of the arena, Slaking begins to withdraw his massive fist, clearly satisfied that his opponent is finished. As his knuckles start to pull away from the wall, though, Marshtomp's hand shoots out, frost-bitten fingers wrapping around the great ape's thick wrist in an iron grip.
The mudfish pokemon's head tilts up, one eye swollen shut, the other blazing through a curtain of blood streaming from a split in his scalp. His grip tightens, refusing to let go even as his arm shakes with the effort.
Slaking looks down at the smaller pokemon with an expression that, to Lee, seems equal parts annoyance and grudging respect. With a low rumble, Norman's ace draws back his free fist, energy crackling around the knuckles as he prepares to finally turn this two-on-one into something more fair.
The massive fist falls like a sledgehammer.
Marshtomp's other hand flies up at the last possible second, palm meeting Slaking's knuckles with a resounding CRACK that echoes through the suddenly silent arena. The tremendous blow stops dead, caught by a pokemon a fraction of Slaking's size and weight.
'No way…' Lee's eyes widen, both itching a little as Ninetales intently watches through them. 'Brendan, I think you're about to be a damn happy kid.'
He's proven right when Marshtomp begins to glow.
The light starts as a faint shimmer around his battered form, but quickly intensifies into a brilliant white that forces spectators to shield their eyes. His body contorts and stretches within the cocoon of energy, muscles expanding, bones lengthening, his very essence reshaping itself. The glow pulses like a heartbeat, each flash brighter than the last, until the entire arena is bathed in the shine.
Brendan's expression transforms in an instant, dismay melting away into explosive joy. "Yes! YES! You did it, buddy!" He leaps back to his feet, both fists in the air.
Lee exhales a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, tension bleeding from his shoulders. 'Talk about perfect timing.'
The shape inside the white light grows larger, and larger, and yet larger still, and when it fades, where Marshtomp once struggled stands a towering, snarling Swampert.
The amphibian pokemon is unearthly. Marshtomp was already a bundle of muscle that could swim, but Swampert takes everything his old body had and dials it to eleven. Blue skin is stretched taut over dense, coiled muscle, appearing so tight that it looks as if his hide would split open if he flexed with too much enthusiasm.
His stature, likewise, is out of this world. Marshtomp stood head and shoulders over other examples of his species at three and a half feet tall, and he has more than doubled in height. If Lee's eye is correct, then even with his species' semi-four legged slouch, Swampert has to be seven feet tall, minimum.
Without warning, Swampert's arm pistons forward in a simple, unenhanced punch that catches Slaking square in the jaw. The impact reverberates through the arena like a thunderclap, and for the first time since Blissey powered him up, Norman's ace staggers backward, shaking his head to clear the stars in his vision.
Freed from the pin, Swampert rolls his shoulders, then looks down at his hands, flexing the unfamiliar digits that greet his eyes.
Then he clenches them into fists, draws in a deep breath that makes his chest expand, and throws back his head with a roar.
The sound is primal, violent, a challenge that seems to come from the very depths of the earth itself. The sheer force of it kicks up a gale that sends dirt and melting snow swirling through the arena, and the psychic barriers flare a translucent pink as they strain to contain the acoustic assault. Several spectators in the front rows clap their hands over their ears, wincing at the volume.
Brendan, though?
From the look on his face, Lee would say it's the most beautiful sound the kid has ever heard.
Brendan only allows himself to admire his freshly evolved friend for a second, then he shakes off most of his excitement, though the grin plastered across his face refuses to budge. He turns to Lee, eyes bright with renewed confidence. "Plan's unchanged," he says, voice steady despite his obvious elation. "Let Swampert take the big guy head-on. Sceptile can angle for something nasty while they're locked up."
Lee's answering smile is sharp with anticipation. "Couldn't agree more."
Oh, he can already feel that badge in hand.
"Swampert!" Brendan calls out, his voice cracking a bit with his enthusiasm. "Show him what you're made of! Close quarters combat!"
"Sceptile," Lee adds, "Siphon Blade, don't let him rest!"
Across the arena, Norman looks absolutely poleaxed by the sudden reversal of fortune. To his credit, the gym leader shakes off his shock in seconds, his jaw set.
"Slaking! Engage! Don't let them dictate the pace!"
Swampert charges forward, bounding on his short, coiled legs, and Slaking rushes to meet him halfway.
Brendan's pokemon cocks back a white-knuckled fist like a spring-loaded hammer.
Norman's does the same, his teeth bared in a grimace.
Both strike, and Lee swears he sees sparks, not from any move, but from the air itself igniting under the force of the two pokemon's raw strength.
When their fists collide, an impact reverberates through the arena that makes the entire building groan. The psychic barriers flare again just from the shockwave.
Where Marshtomp struggled desperately against Slaking's overwhelming power, Swampert meets it pound for pound, blow for blow. Both fighters abandon any pretense of finesse, throwing haymakers that could demolish concrete walls. Each punch lands with the force of a wrecking ball and the sound of a cannon shot, making the dust and slush on the floor dance with each impact.
Swampert can't wipe the savage, wild grin off his face even if he tried. It doesn't matter how many times Slaking's massive fists find their mark, it doesn't matter how many purple bruises are blooming across his hide, he's giving as good as he gets and then some. Lee can only imagine that the intoxicating rush of newfound strength has the Water and Ground type deep in a special kind of high.
Swampert throws his head back, laughing a deep laugh as bloodthirsty as it is manic.
Slaking, by contrast, is furiously trying to keep pace, his eyes growing wider and teeth clenching harder with each exchange. Every blow from the freakishly powerful Swampert sends ripples through his whole body, and he can't help but wince as Swampert's knuckles find their mark again and again.
"Slaking, back off and re-!" Norman's order is lost in the dull boom of another punch connecting with Slaking's stomach.
There's no time for either combatant to break away and use proper techniques, and Norman's cries for Slaking to make distance mean nothing. All they can do is swing wildly, each trying to batter the other into submission through pure, overwhelming force.
But Slaking isn't just dealing with one opponent, as the rapidly multiplying slash wounds on his limbs and back give away.
Every time the great ape tries to turn and swat away the green blur harassing his flanks, he pays dearly for taking his eyes off Swampert. A devastating uppercut to the ribs, a cross that snaps his head sideways, a body blow that drives the air from his lungs in a whooshing gasp, all that and more each time he tries to stop the Grass-type tearing into him.
Sceptile is relentless, zipping in with Extreme Speed to open fresh wounds with Siphon Blade before vanishing like a ghost the instant retaliation looks like it's on its way. Each strike is precise, calculated, targeting joints, tendons, anywhere that will slow the mighty ape down.
Cut, cut, cut, cut! Red is pooling at Slaking's feet, dyeing the slush and mud a ruddy color.
Try as he might, Slaking's burst of energy is beginning to flag under the relentless two-pronged assault. His movements are growing just a fraction slower, his guard dropping incrementally lower with each passing second. The Life Orb glows brighter and brighter around Slaking's neck, pulling away all the limiters on the behemoth, but it's only delaying the inevitable.
Norman's ace is losing.
Sceptile flashes in again, his Siphon Blade finding its mark on the back of Slaking's right leg. The glowing leaf slices deep into Slaking's achilles tendon, and Lee watches with grim satisfaction as the great ape's leg simply gives out beneath him.
Slaking crashes to one knee with a pained grunt, his massive frame suddenly vulnerable and off-balance. The brief lull in the melee stretches for two precious seconds, long enough for Swampert to see his opening.
The amphibian rears back, his whole body coiling as he puts his entire seven-foot frame behind one final, bone-shattering punch. With yet another bellow, his fist flies forward with enough force to derail a train, connecting with Slaking's jaw in a blow that lifts the massive pokemon clean off the ground.
Slaking flies backward through the air, end over end, before crashing down in the center of the arena with an impact that sends cracks spider-webbing through the floor. Dust and mud explode outward from the point of impact, splattering on and running down the psychic walls.
For a moment, the great ape lies motionless. Then, incredibly, he begins to push himself up, his arms trembling with the effort. Blood streams from dozens of wounds, his eyes struggle to focus, but still, still, he forces himself back to one knee, swaying and punch-drunk.
The crowd erupts into absolute pandemonium. The entire arena is a wall of sound, spectators losing their minds at the incredible back-and-forth fight.
In the arena, Swampert approaches the wounded Slaking from the front while Sceptile circles around behind, both pokemon still tense and ready to jump to action the moment the word is given.
Slaking stares up at Swampert through blood and exhaustion, his expression a mixture of frustration and stubborn defiance. Even now, even broken and beaten, Norman's ace refuses to yield.
Swampert makes a deep, rumbling croak, almost conversational, as if to say no hard feelings. Then he raises both massive fists high above his head, fingers interlocked for a hammer strike.
"End it, Swampert!" Brendan's voice cuts through the noise.
The blow sends Slaking's skull bouncing off the cracked ground with a sickening thud, his eyes rolling back as consciousness finally abandons him. The mighty pokemon's body goes completely slack, his labored breathing the only sign he's still alive.
The referee steps forward on his chalk-line box, his voice mystified as he begins the count. "One! Two! Three!" He raises his hand with a flourish, voice only heard over the onlookers thanks to his microphone. "Slaking is unable to battle! The winners are challengers Brendan Birch and Lee Henson!"
The noise from the stands redoubles, cameras flashing. Lee can see Zinnia in the stands, on her feet and cheering wildly, her hands thrown high in the air as she screams herself hoarse.
They actually did it. Norman threw their plans in the trash, and they still won!
'See, love? Nothing to worry about. Sceptile and Swampert had it handled.' Lee smiles as the barrier around the battleground begins to fade.
The mental click of a non-tongue echoes in his head. 'I suppose…'
'We'll hit up an ice cream shop after this, both to celebrate the win and to make up for benching you. Fair trade?'
That makes the usually omni-present warmth from Ninetales begin to flow readily again. 'Very well, I will accept your bribe,' she replies with a sniff. 'Three scoops of peach and I will forget your transgressions… for today.'
'Lucian was right. We do sound domestic.'
Nine's love-laced giggles fade into the back of his mind as he and Brendan make their way to meet Norman in the utterly wrecked arena.
"You did it! You did it!" Brendan races ahead towards his giant starter, grin so wide it has to hurt. He does a flying leap into Swampert's open arms, and the two twirl around in a circle (or Swampert twirls around and Brendan is along for the ride), laughing in jittery, adrenaline-fueled joy like the kids they are.
"Do you want a hug, too?" Lee jokes as he steps up next to Sceptile.
The tall lizard just looks down at him with a flat expression, crossing his arms and shifting his chewing twig in his lips.
"Well, if you wanna be like that, fine." Lee mirrors Sceptiles crossed arms with a smile, looking at the nubs where Sceptile's back seeds were. "Hug or no hug, I'm so damn proud, Sceptile. You went in, messed up an Elite pokemon, and came out with barely a scratch. We'll rush-order some of that special Fallarbor kale, and I'll make a king-sized veg quiche for dinner tonight, all for you."
The prospect of a hearty meal after a big win? Now that has Sceptile smiling.
Norman quietly recalls Slaking with a flash of red light, his shoulders sagging slightly as the massive pokemon disappears. Lee and Brendan, with their pokemon at their sides, make their way across the crater-pocked arena to meet him in the center, stepping carefully around the worst of the damage.
When they converge, Norman looks genuinely exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that comes from watching a carefully laid plan crumble in real time. His smile, however, seems genuine as he extends a hand to each of them in turn.
"Congratulations, both of you," he says, his grip firm despite his fatigue. "That was one hell of a battle. You earned this win."
"Thanks." Brendan beams, practically bouncing on his toes.
Norman chuckles, then his expression grows more thoughtful. "I have to admit, I planned for days to face down your Ninetales and Latias," he says, gesturing between Lee and Brendan. "Even taught Slaking Blizzard and Surf specifically to try and exploit their typings."
Lee's mouth quirks into a dry smile. "We figured something like that was coming with the sudden format change. That's why we mixed up our team picks."
"Smart thinking." Norman nods, even if his smile grows uncertain. He glances around at the destroyed arena before leaning in, voice low. "I hope there's no hard feelings about the unexpected double battle format." His voice carries a note of concern. "I genuinely thought a straightforward challenge would have been too easy for trainers of your caliber..." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "And on my end, if I was going to lose, I needed to make it an exciting, valiant loss for the bean counters upstairs."
Brendan waves it off immediately. "No worries! That was the most fun I've had in a battle in weeks!"
Lee stays quiet, not entirely sure how to respond. He understands that the Gym Leaders all have political pressures coming down from on high, and it sounds like Norman is feeling it keenly for some reason, but the setup still feels a tad unfair.
Norman seems to pick up on the reason behind his silence, but doesn't press. Instead, he turns toward the crowd and raises one hand high, gradually bringing the excited hollering and whooping down to a manageable roar.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Norman says, voice carrying clearly over the arena speakers, "today you witnessed something special. These two trainers and their pokemon stepped up to an unprecedented challenge like true professionals, proving they possess that rare balance of skill and power that defines a truly masterful trainer."
He turns back to Lee and Brendan, producing two gleaming badges from his jacket pocket. The Balance Badges catch the arena lights, their metallic surfaces reflecting tiny rainbows.
"Lee Henson, Brendan Birch," Norman says formally, "I present you with the Balance Badge, proof of your victory here today."
As Lee and Brendan take their badges and hold them high for the crowd, another thunderous round of cheers erupts from the stands, accompanied by a storm of camera flashes that turn the arena into a constellation of light.
The badge is small, but it's laden heavy with sweet, sweet achievement.
Five down, three to go.
Unbeknownst to most, a woman, her petite form wrapped in a fine kimono of pink silk, slips away from the Petalburg Gym arena with a delicate frown on her face.
"A bond I was shown, yet it wasn't the correct one…" she mutters to herself, stepping out onto the street.
All around her, foot traffic parts like water, yet not a single set of eyes acknowledges her, nor do a single set of ears hear her murmurs.
"Foolish kits, reaching directly into the fire simply because you find the light and the warmth captivating," she continues, with only herself to hear. "You will burn yourselves. I warned you that you would burn yourselves, yet you trundle on, insisting your paws feel not the heat."
Behind her, a paper cup discarded on the ground is blown away, as if caught in the wake of something agitated and unseen whipping about.
"Fine then," she huffs, casting a look over her shoulder to the Gym. "If you insist on playing such coy and childish games with me, then clearly needs must." She resumes her march.
"I shall test you myself."
Below are the names of some patrons who got to view this chapter early and felt like signing it. A huge thanks to them and everyone else who supports this story and everything else I write.
Spice_King, Honin, soup, BrokenOlive, Ultra-Anon, Dicloniuslord, Maestro, Nickerdoodle, ncskeeter56, Kacy Roush, Dingus, OmegaEntertainment, Aelias, GreenPhoenix, Ash The Kitsune, Meadow, GordianVapCat, Cat, puppy0cam, Moonlit Chaser, Wing Shot, demonmonkey89, drykeon, Bunny Waffles, Kaledux87, Adean23, Sinnohan, ShaRose, Fabhar, Latscry, Siphon Rayzar, MrPerson0, WiseKitsune, SparkzVultrix, IdiotRaiju/EmpressKoyan, Soah1086, Grey, Zany Old Coot, speedyzman13, Zazs31, Planetace, Papito12495, Moxie, Forever21Jeans, WhatAFungi, Nithalys, Rémi C., Berusella, IAmYourKingAndMaster, TitaniumPho3nix, Priam, Luc, Emeraldleafeon, Cynicals, MidnightJayguar, Bruv, Iskierka, Sketchbeard, Shrimperium, Deathkorpsofkrieg, King Eevee, Gleipnir
The Radiance's Follower
The Radiance is best.
- Joined
- Jun 10, 2019
- Messages
- 1,062
Finally. Another badge. Progress is being made.
edk
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2020
- Messages
- 1,386
That's a spinoff isn't it? Never mind, just checked those scenes are in a separate snippet thread. Not canon though.
autobot314
Indeed
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2020
- Messages
- 258
Lokoko wishes to test you! Fox only, no items, Final Destination!
Rin_Morita
[Hunter of Hunters] [Wielder of Malfeasance]
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2019
- Messages
- 335
Someone is a bit peeved she didn't see the floof of fire make an appearance. Maybe next time.
And I went back and re-read the entire story because I hadn't read it in like a year or so. Imagine my surprise when I found stuff I hadn't come across and again when I saw an update today!
This fox is pleased.
And I went back and re-read the entire story because I hadn't read it in like a year or so. Imagine my surprise when I found stuff I hadn't come across and again when I saw an update today!
This fox is pleased.
ThunderBasilisk
Well Worn Bastion
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2020
- Messages
- 19,328
Damn good battle! And woohoo Marshtomp evolved! May his croaks inspire fear in thousands! Also sounds like Lokoko is gonna FAFO
Beans
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2020
- Messages
- 84
I've never had less respect for a trainer in a Pokémon fic than Norman in this one. Bro was so scared to lose to Lee and Brendan that he had to rug pull them with a new custom challenge, with a dedicated team designed to specifically counter them. If marshtomp hadnt have evolved those were starting to sound like career ending injuries. What an absolute pussy of a gym leader.
Switchflip
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- May 8, 2024
- Messages
- 719
dont forget he is also an average pokeprotag's dad, in other words, no parent at all.
doomqwer
Experienced.
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2020
- Messages
- 4,404
Smart even with a powerful boost fighting 2v1 is still a challenge.
He is not a gym leader for no reason, these are the first line of defense and some of the very best of the land.
About time, but damn if it is not at the most hype moment possible.
you really do and its adorable hopefully you can get your turn to show off to as i wanna see how powerful ninetales has gotten.
Well now this is gonna be interesting and likely highly informative as a 500 hundred year old ninetales has got to be an encyclopedia of knowledge.
Vadelent
In your kitchen, stealing your pie.
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2024
- Messages
- 55
That's a bit far don't you think? He's still there and clearly supportive which is far and away more than most of them.
Switchflip
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- May 8, 2024
- Messages
- 719
oh wait, i forgot this is anime continuity.
my B
the game version of him is worse than all the dads not existing because game Norman is there, he acknowledges the player as their child but does jack and shit and is never home, not even at the literal start of the game.
others atleast live with the illusion their dad cares or doesnt come home for a valid reason.
- Joined
- May 31, 2020
- Messages
- 1,314
Thanks for the chapter Fuggman. Keep up the good work!
It's a game.
I don't think the game designers were going to bother writing up parent interactions outside of excuses to seamlessly explain game mechanics.
If you assume anything not seen in a game doesn't exist in lore, every Pokémon game lacks a sky on most of the map.
Granted, it's not like there's anything proving that interpretation wrong either.
It's a game.
I don't think the game designers were going to bother writing up parent interactions outside of excuses to seamlessly explain game mechanics.
If you assume anything not seen in a game doesn't exist in lore, every Pokémon game lacks a sky on most of the map.
Granted, it's not like there's anything proving that interpretation wrong either.
Last edited:
Act 3: Chapter 7
New
Fuggmann
Inventor of Sex 2
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2020
- Messages
- 199
Take a look here!
I'm reader-funded, and need your help to keep writing indefinitely. If you like what you're reading and want to help out, see https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann at the place of patrons. Patrons get to see 2 chapters early, suggest edits to final drafts before they go live, and participate in polls to choose what gets updated next during my moments of indecisiveness.
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As always, thank you for reading.
In a secluded, newly discovered clearing outside Petalburg, the morning air is as crisp as the first bite into a ripe, juicy apple, putting a smile on Lee's face.
Getting here without being mobbed was an interesting ordeal. With the Petalburg Gym done and dusted, his and Brendan's urban legends grew to new heights. The choice to use Sceptile and Swampert rather than their "strongest" pokemon against Norman's unusual challenge whipped up BattleNet into a flurry of speculation about how truly strong the rest of their teams might be.
As Lee half-expected, Norman got very little blowback for his curveball, similar to how Moore got little more than grumbles for his. Hell, losing seems to have been the best outcome for Norman, for he was lauded for giving everything he had and taking his fall with grace.
But the more he thinks about it, the more Lee realizes Norman probably had little choice. Had he taken it easy on them, the accusations of softballing for his best friend's son and employee would have been swift. Even an average challenge might have drawn suspicious eyes.
"And on my end, if I was going to lose, I needed to make it an exciting, valiant loss for the bean counters upstairs."
The sudden change in the challenge still bothers him a little, but in the end, they won, and that's that. He's glad he didn't back out now, for if he had, his and the Lab's own prestige might have been in the crossfire.
Speaking of prestige…
Normally, when trainers find themselves the subject of intense attention online, they'd have something to say on the matter — they'd want to interact — but his and Brendan's steadfast reservation on the matter is driving the powerscaling nerds online into a frenzy, doubly so now that Brendan and Latias have been sighted enough to confirm her capture. The boy's megathread is on fire, and is set to outpace Lee's soon enough.
"Why not use Latias?" they ask. "Surely she's stronger. She's a legend! A pokemon so mighty that nothing can stop them!"
"Where is Ninetales?" they wonder. She fought Ty the Typhlosion to a dramatic standstill, yet her weaker teammate Sceptile went toe-to-toe with Slaking, a pokemon even stronger than Ty. Was it not worth her time?
With Lee's aversion to social media and Brendan's image being carefully maintained by Monty and the lab PR team, they're getting nothing, and they hate it.
'Maybe I should say something at some point, lest expectations balloon out of control…' Lee muses, shifting his notebook and pen to one hand, then taking his phone from his pocket and opening his favorite BattleNet group, Fox Friday.
As it usually is, there are three dozen unread notifications aimed squarely at him, and all of them are ignored. Instead, he scrolls up to see that the theme of the week is "Cuddly Selfies".
There is a teen girl with her Braixen, who has her ear fluff tied in braids like her trainer's brown hair. Both are mid-hug and smiling for the camera.
Another features a pale Galarian boy holding his Nickit, who looks less than pleased with the arrangement.
The one garnering the most attention, however, is a man cradling a small and quite young three-tailed Vulpix, who is fast asleep. Of course, Lee shows his own appreciation by pressing the little heart button under the post, making the counter rise from 77 to 78.
Tapping the attachment button with his thumb, Lee scrolls through his pictures for something to send, and smiles when finds just the right photo.
Today at 11:55 AM
L_Henson: Fluffy
(Attachment #1)
There isn't much to see in the picture, other than the view of his arm emerging from a golden cocoon of tails to hold the phone.
…Multiple people are typing…
'Close, and mute.' He smirks, tucking his phone away and returning his attention outward.
Just a few yards away, in a small, translucent purple box of psychic walls erected by Ninetales, Sylveon and Shinx dart in and out at each other in a game of half tag, half chicken. Sylveon's pink and white fur shimmers faintly in the morning light, and Shinx's own coat crackles with static.
Both the youngest and oldest members of the team are the most physically fragile—which isn't to say they are frail in any way; it's just, when compared to the rest of the team, they aren't the most tanky pokemon around. The solution for this?
Condition them to automatically retaliate when struck, to punish the foe for daring to attack in the first place.
Classical conditioning, or Pavlovian conditioning as it's sometimes called, was something Lee studied in college, then made practical use of under Aasir's watchful eye. It's how animal handlers, dog trainers especially, train their charges to perform tasks or behave. To boil the concept down, it's the process of associating one stimulus to another, like the pleasure of a food reward after following a command, until just the spoken command compels the wanted behavior because of an unconscious association with the other stimulus.
Now, this doesn't work the same with pokemon considering their higher brain functions are comparable to a human, but that doesn't mean the concept is useless.
In the cramped, translucent cube, Shinx ducks under Sylveon's latest charge, then bashes her head into the fairy's stomach.
Immediately, the cube lights up with a burning, silvery light as Sylveon lets a newly-learned Dazzling Gleam rip, drawing a pained hiss from Shinx, who then lets Spark arc over her body, electrocuting Sylveon in a brutal cycle.
Before long, it'll be purely instinct.
The two pull away from each other on shaky paws, both burned and twitching.
Is it a bit of a gamble? Could they accidentally let a move fly after stubbing a toe, or a pulled tail, or something? Maybe, but most trainer-oriented spaces have insurance just for pokemon damage, and he's got the cash to pay little things out of pocket.
'Uh oh, is this how real pros think?' Lee wonders, looking down at his notebook as he scratches down the result of Shinx and Sylveon's latest clash. 'Yeah, sorry my cat started an electrical fire that torched your whole building. My bad.'
From where she sits a few paces away, Ninetales lets out an amused huff. 'I believe that without the adrenaline of a true bout, something as mundane as a pulled tail won't result in property damage.'
'Really? What if I pulled your tail?' Lee shoots back, an eyebrow rising.
The vixen's eyes flash with laughter. 'Goodness, the other half of my soul is planning to give one of mine tails a yank. How could I ever prepare for that?'
Point. 'And if someone else did?'
'Ah, but beloved, that violence would be premeditated, not spontaneous.'
Lee shakes his head. 'Let's not,' he sends, before flipping to an ear-marked page in his notebook and looking over to the other half of the field.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Sceptile, with his Siphon Blade held ready, ducks one supersonic bolt of black from above, which hits the earth like an artillery shell—
BOOM!
—sidesteps another—
BOOM!
—then swipes his weapon downward faster than the eye can see, bisecting the final shot with a shower of sparks. The two halves fly on either side of him, hitting the ground like the others.
BO-BOOM!
Turned dirt and shredded grass flies high, only to be dispelled seconds later by monstrous wingbeats from above.
Flying in a tight circle above the sparring ground, Corviknight keeps a watchful red eye on the green gecko below.
Just under him, and clinging to Corvi's chestplate like an upside-down limpet, or more appropriately, like a cannon fitted to an aircraft, Octillery stares at Sceptile with narrow, vexed eyes.
The duo in the sky both shimmer with the faint pink of Corvi's Light Screen, keeping Octillery shielded from the retaliatory Energy Balls Sceptile was hurling at the beginning of the bout.
Sceptile doesn't give them the chance to attack again freely, and instead fires back with a differing attack, this time a Seed Blast. With only a blink's worth of charge time, he spits a supersonic cone of seeds with green, luminous trails at the pair.
Corvi's eyes narrow, and an emerald sphere surrounds both him and his passenger in the nick of time, sending the seeds deflecting off in every direction with a series of ringing ricochets.
Lee looks down at his notes and scribbles away. 'Gunship Maneuver shows exceptional promise. Eliminates Octillery's key weaknesses and gives the team the power to attack in one direction and move in another. Octillery has no issues adjusting aim from inverted position, as expected. Will test more before live application.'
Beep-beep!
The noon alarm set on Lee's phone goes off, so he shuts his notebook with a snap, sheathes his pen in the binding rings, and takes a deep breath. "Break for lunch, everyone!"
In a heartbeat, all of his pokemon are assembled around him, bright-eyed and ignoring any little wounds they have.
'Wow, that was fast. Maybe Teleport is on the table for more than just Nine and Octillery.' Lee laughs under his breath, dropping his backpack and digging inside.
In short order, cling-wrap-covered bowls of food filled to almost bursting with extra portions are passed out, and any idle talk is eschewed for the sound of munching.
Unwrapping and biting into his own lunch, a simple sandwich, Lee lets his eyes roam the edge of the clearing as he sits in the grass.
'We're a good five-six miles out from Petalburg, and the area is relatively free of any native pokemon,' he plots, keeping his thoughts to himself so Nine can focus on enjoying her food. 'Sceptile is my most level-headed team member by far, but still…' His gaze, now a touch unsettled, falls to the glimmering stone set in the gorget around Sceptile's neck.
'...It's hard to say what he'll be like after getting Dragon as a second type, let alone what his headspace will be like after the mega-evolution itself.'
A glittering akin to the one of Sceptile's megastone beams Lee right in the eye. Squinting, he looks at his own wrist.
There, his keystone stares back. The timepiece built around it ticks away, reading 12:04.
Stuffing the last of his lunch in his mouth and chewing slowly, Lee raises the watch to the sun, where the dark blue-tinted steel band shines and the keystone sends rainbow rays scattering over his face.
The watch really is a work of art, and still he feels as if he underpaid for it despite the four-thousand credit price tag.
After the battle at the Petalburg Gym, Lee set out to find a jeweler who could set his keystone in some kind of sturdy bracelet, so he wasn't carrying the thing just loose in his pocket all the time. Unfortunately, his fame bit him in the ass here, as all of the jewelers in Petalburg are small-time, local shops. When he, the infamous Lee Henson, walked in with a commission that hinged on them signing an NDA before he'd even let them see the stone they were working with, all of them turned him away.
Well, nearly all of them.
Determined to try one more place before hopping on Corvi and flying to a larger city like Mauville, Lee stopped into a shop that specialized in timepieces, finding a rather… peculiar encounter waiting inside.
The ring of the bell above the door can't hope to cover the perfect, synchronized 'tick-tock-tick-tock' of every single clock in the store.
As they step inside, both Lee and Ninetales crane their heads around, taking in the walls utterly filled with a medley of clocks.
In one corner, an artful grandfather clock, carved with tree and grass pokemon motifs, stands, its internal weights and pulleys freshly wound.
On one wall, a cuckoo clock ticks away, and Lee can spy joints around the wings and beaks of the extra, wooden Taillow perched before the central cuckoo clock door. The little birds seem impatient, forced to wait for the top of the hour before they can sing.
Near the back wall and hosting the cash register is a glass jewelry case that stretches from one wall to the next, filled with watches of all sorts. From plain watches with stainless steel bands to pocket watches etched with golden filigree, it seems like there is something for every taste and priced for every budget.
And every single one, down to the second, is perfectly synced.
'Did the owner make all of these?' Lee can't help but wonder. 'I know the sign on the door said everything is hand-made, but…'
Ninetales flicks an ear, but even her sharp hearing can't pick out any kind of flaw in the cadence of the ticking all around them. 'If the sign is truthful, then the proprietor certainly takes their craft seriously.'
"Hoo?"
From a half-open door behind the watch case-slash-front counter, a Hoothoot flutters out and into the register, settling and bobbing his head in-tune with all of the clocks.
"Hey there," Lee greets, struggling to tear his eyes away from all the wild art around him. He shifts the folder holding the NDA for the keystone from under his arm to his hands. "Is the owner in? I'd like to talk about a commission."
"Hmm? A commission?" a whispery voice from the back room Hoothoot just vacated asks. Through Nine's ears, Lee can just barely hear the sound of something small and metallic being dropped into place. "I'm working right now, dear customer, and cannot stop, lest I lose my rhythm, but I'm listening. Please, go ahead."
"Uh…" Lee smiles unsurely and sets his folder on the counter. "It should be simple for someone like you, sir. I just need a jewel set into a band."
"Oh?" the owner asks amid a metallic creak. "I'm sorry, dear customer. I only deal in timepieces. I cannot accept."
Lee blinks. "Uh… This should be an easy commission, sir. It's literally just a sturdy bracelet I need."
"And I cannot accept. I'm sorry."
Lee shares a glance with Nine.
'Is this guy serious?'
Ninetales takes her time to answer, though in real-world time that's hardly a second. 'Artists are usually as eccentric as they are skillful, Beloved. He must have some sort of code or fixation he's unwilling to violate,' she sends back, turning her eyes to a pocketwatch in the case.
The cheery Swablu etched into the case meets her red gaze unflinchingly.
'Perhaps requesting a watch will yield a better result?' Ninetales continues, looking up at him. 'Should you ever need to don formal attire, you'll look quite fetching with a tasteful timepiece to round out the ensemble.'
Lee mulls it over. "Sir? Could you maybe incorporate the jewel I have into a watch? If you could-!"
"Ah, I would be delighted," the unseen owner cuts him off. "Tell me, dear customer, which hand is your dominant hand?"
"Uh, it's my right," Lee answers before raising his folder. "We should discuss a few-"
"Your birthday?"
"Things - It's October 14th. Now, we should-"
"Oh, happy almost birthday then, dear customer."
Lee pauses. 'Oh, shit. That is just a few days away, isn't it?'
'Treat this as a gift to yourself, then,' Ninetales adds her two cents, nosing his elbow.
With his train of thought derailed, the shop owner is free to ask Lee a barrage of seemingly nonsensical questions. When he decided to be a trainer, the date of his high school graduation, what time he was born, things that don't seem to relate at all to making a watch.
"Hmm… That should do…" the man murmurs from his workshop behind the door. "Ah, you wished for the band to be quite immovable once fastened, correct?"
"Thats the idea…" Lee slumps forward and puts his elbows on the glass case. He just wants a watch; why the quiz?
"I understand. Hootie, can you bring everything back so I may begin as soon as this project is done?"
The Hoothoot on the register gives Lee a questioning "Hoo?", but Lee shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to have some paperwork signed beforehand. The gem in question is quite valuable and I require an indefinite NDA for this commission before I can turn it over."
There is a sigh from behind the door, and Lee almost misses it, but from inside comes the sound of a metronome being clicked on, synced to the clocks. "Hootie?"
Hoothoot carefully takes the folder from Lee's hand, and flies back into the workshop. The scratch of a pen over paper follows, and Hoothoot flutters back out, presenting the signed document to Lee.
On the page is a loopy, cursive signature for one 'Willard C. Lock'.
Satisfied, Lee takes the keystone, hidden away in a little drawstring bag, from his pocket. He hesitates, then gives it to Hoothoot, who once more takes it back to 'Lock'.
"Ah… I understand the need for caution," Lock murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard over his clocks. "The strongest material I offer is Aggron shed. Quite robust, and polishes to a mirror shine… Unless there is another material you would like to request?"
'I'm already in this deep, may as well go all the way.' Lee removes his backpack and sticks a hand in, careful not to be too hasty, lest he cut himself. "I have a few feathers from my Corviknight. Could you use those?"
After turning over the feathers and the keystone, Lock told them to come back the next day, which seemed too short to Lee, but sure enough on the morning after, Hootie was waiting with a small box, and inside was the watch.
The dark metal bracelet holding the watch and keystone is formed from thick, hardy links, with a latch that refuses to give no matter how hard Lee pulls at it. The watch face itself is a little marvel, as with the keystone in the center, Lock had to put the hands on the outside edge. Three rings, one for seconds, one for minutes, and one for hours, are each fitted with an inward pointed hand, all of them rotating around the center to point at etched numerals around the keystone. The whole face is covered with shatter-proof glass, keeping the stone and delicate internals protected. With the whole thing being wrought from Corvi's armor, Lee is certain only an act of extraordinary violence could break it.
Nigel already sourced Brendan a thick bracelet with a shutter to hide his keystone, and Zinnia has some loopy, spring-like draconid accessory she's taken to wearing around her leg for her stone. If they didn't already have their own solutions, Lee definitely would have pointed them towards Lock.
The longer he stares at the rainbow gem, the more it shines, and the more it shines, the more his stomach roils with odd emotions, so Lee lowers his hand. 'Huh. It fits perfectly, but I don't remember ever giving Lock my wrist measurements…'
The minutes roll by, and soon six bowls of lunch are polished off. As everyone sits and lets their food hit bottom, nerves build among man and pokemon alike.
Taking a deep breath, Lee stands and gestures for everyone sans Sceptile to get behind him. "Ready, pal?"
Sceptile, cool as can be, nods once.
Taking his notebook from his bag once more, Lee licks his lips and flips to a clean page. "Mega Evolution trials, attempt one," he murmurs, dictating to himself as he writes. "Okay, everyone brace," he warns, raising his watch.
'Please don't go wrong…'
Even if it isn't alive, the keystone sits at the very edge of his consciousness, waiting to be noticed and given energy. If Lee weren't so familiar with minds touching his own, he would have totally missed the stone. Despite not having any kind of telepathic talent of his own, reaching his inner self out to the stone is deceptively easy, and the ephemeral fingers that wrap around the keystone find it quite warm.
"Here goes." Lee gulps, keeping Sceptile and what the great gecko truly means to him in mind.
'Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
Both the stone on his watch and around Sceptile's neck begin to glow with an inner light, and Lee jumps when something reaches into him, past his mind, and deep into trenches only Ninetales has ever seen. It's there and gone for an instant, but the touch is like a shot from a stun gun.
Still, he keeps the internal mantra rolling.
Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
Lee shudders, going back once more to his first real encounter with a Mega pokemon.
The mountain shook with each stomp.
Fire and brimstone rained.
They were set to die.
Sceptile bites down on his twig, and in Lee's chest, a heart that doesn't belong to him feels as if it's beating in-sync with his own. Both are racing.
Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
The light is blinding, and Sceptile's eyes screw shut. The corona around him goes from shining rays, to a prismatic shell, bending in ways that should be impossible. In the span of a breath, all that is left is a crystalline egg.
It holds for one second that stretches on for far too long, then it explodes outward in a shower of shards and raw force.
"Shit!" Lee's arms rise to shield his face, but all of the shards dissolve into motes of light long before they reach him. Tentatively lowering his arms and cracking his eyes open, the sight that greets him drops his jaw.
There, standing in a circle of scorched grass with arcs of wild green TE traveling up and down his body, is Sceptile.
Mega Sceptile.
The first thing Lee notices is his height. The transformed Sceptile would tower over his previous form, and can nearly look Corvi in the eye. The twin ridges on his head and over his eyes now stand up further, with crescent shapes punched into each one.
On his chest, an x-shaped breastplate of rustling, razor leaves grind with each breath Sceptile takes. Like the faded, starburst scars on his old form's chest, the leaves are a pale green.
Then there's the red.
The tips of his wrist leaves, the scales under his eyes, the stripes on his belly, and the new stripes down his spine and around his tail are dyed a deep, bloody red. The tip of his tail, now ending in a four-sided, arrow-like broadhead, has the deepest hue.
Sceptile's eyes snap open, showing tiny black slits amid a sea of wide, wild yellow.
The Mega takes a deep breath, green lightning arcing around him once more, and each time one of the arcs strikes the ground, the grass around the strike zone instantly shoots up to shin height. The air itself is filled with an electric-like charge, and something akin to static runs up and down Lee's body, from his fingertips to his toes.
All around, bird pokemon take to the skies, fleeing the trees with a cacophony of screeches, each one sounding less like warning calls, and more like mindless panic. Once they're gone, all that is left is an eerie silence.
"Sceptile?" Lee asks, trying his damndest to not flinch when the Mega's gaze shoots to him. "How are you feeling?"
How is he feeling?
If evolution was euphoria, then Sceptile has no name for this experience, as it's beyond any words, both 'mon and man.
His whole being thrums with unfettered power, beyond any of his wildest dreams. Before, he mused that with but a flick of his ankles, it felt as if he'd fly up into the sky and never come down.
Now? It feels like that would be reality. One kick upon the earth too hard, and he'd shoot to the moon.
The red-tipped leaf that springs to his palm and extends into a blade as tall as himself. He does so with such ease, that even breathing seems like a labor in comparison. The movement is smooth and easy, but still draws a thrill of unease from his spectators.
That's okay. They're weak. It's natural to be afraid. One cleave from him would tear the whole world asunder, after all.
Sceptile's eyes settle on the one who he's never defeated, always playing second fiddle to.
Next to his human, Ninetales stares back, her jaw set and those pesky tails shivering like Seviper.
Ninetales. Ace and Queen of Team Henson. A fiery tempest upon four legs that only grows more focused and raging as time marches on. His leader, his alpha… until now.
Sceptile raises his weapon, and his heart races with the other phantom heart in his breast. His blood sings, his claws tingle, and his breath comes steady despite the thundering heartbeat in his ears.
It's time. Ninetales has served well thus far, but it's time for the crown to rest upon his head, not hers. Time he takes his place as the strongest with the entire team to bear witness.
Once that crown is his?
The next one, as the strongest pokemon ever, is only a meager leap away.
He moves, there one moment, gone the-
"Sceptile, Stop!"
To Lee's horror, his sole Mega raises his leafy sword high, and the blade, even moving at a sedate pace, cuts through the uneasy silence with the whistle of air upon a beyond-razor edge. Those wild, dragon-like eyes stare burning holes into Ninetales. Lee's heart won't stop its frantic drumbeat, mirrored by the reflection of Sceptile's own heart.
The heart on the other side of his chest…
In a way, it's like his bond with Ninetales, only so much more focused yet muted all at the same time. There aren't any words or feelings, just bodies and… and something else moving in sync. Every movement Sceptile makes, his own muscles want to imitate, and even now, his right arm twitches as if it wants to rise and mimic Sceptile's stance.
That odd bond, so familiar yet different, is why he feels the strike long before it actually comes.
"Sceptile, Stop!" Lee screams, jumping right into the Mega's path as the sword screams down like a flash.
'Lee!' Nine cries, her words almost lost as Shinx, Sylveon, Octillery, and Corviknight all cry out as well, far, far too slow to do anything.
The humming, glowing blade stops dead, only an inch from splitting Lee's skull in two. Where there should have been an explosion of wind from the sudden stop, there is nothing, barely even a whisper of displaced air, and the hairs on Lee's neck stand up.
"Hrrrn?" Sceptile growls, staring down at him with narrow, accusing eyes.
"No, Sceptile." Lee stares back up, forcing the shakes that want to overtake him back. "This isn't you. Whatever… Whatever this is," he begins, reaching up and pinching the sword between his eyes with a finger and thumb, pushing it away, "its not you. Just calm down, okay?"
Lee raises his watch, looking down at the second hand as it turns, and then returns his attention to Sceptile. "Here. Watch the hand tick down, bring your heartrate down with me. One per second, okay?"
There isn't any acknowledgement from the towering lizard, but neither does he move to strike again.
'Lee!' Ninetales hisses within his mind, standing at his side and staring up at Sceptile with flames licking the edges of her lips. 'This is insanity! Back up and let us stall him until he exhausts himself! He cannot handle it and could snap again!'
'Just give me a minute, love,' Lee sends back, moving his tongue to try and wet his dry-as-cotton mouth. 'I have faith in him.'
The seconds roll by, and all of the pokemon around Lee, from Ninetales with her wary stare, to Shinx, who is shaking but crackling with a Spark ready, wait with bated breath. Only the near silent tick-tick-tick of the watch reminds them that time isn't standing still.
With each second, Sceptile leans further and further down, fixated on the second ring of the watch as it turns, and with each tick, Lee feels not only his own heart finally begin to settle, but also the phantom one beside it.
"Thats it, just calm down, Sceptile," Lee murmurs, raising his other hand and gently placing it on Sceptile's brow. The green scales are near-burning hot to the touch, but the man ignores the discomfort. "We're both just going to take it easy for now."
Tick-beat. Tick-beat. Tick-beat. Tick-beat.
Once one minute has come and gone, Sceptile has sunk to his hands and knees, with Lee's hand rubbing a circle on the top of his head.
'It's like with a wild animal.' The realization strikes Lee, and he silently kicks himself. 'Only far more literal. Sceptile wasn't antsy because he could sense my own nerves, he was directly feeding off of them. Shit. Way to go, Lee…' He pinches the bridge of his nose. 'It's fine. No one was hurt. We'll do better next time.'
Sceptile slumps, his fire gone without any warning, making Lee withdraw his hand in surprise. A dull light overtakes his form, and he shrinks back down, leaving him shaking on the ground with his head bowed low.
Lee presses a hand to his chest, feeling only one beat this time, then kneels down next to his pokemon. "Sceptile?" he begins gently. "How are you feeling?"
The gecko shakes his head, refusing to look up.
"Sceptile, c'mon. It's okay, nothing happened," Lee urges, reaching out and touching Sceptile on the shoulder, garnering a flinch in return. "Look at me, pal."
The Grass-type finally raises his head, and never before has Lee seen such profound shame on a pokemon's face. Sceptile's jaws are clenched around his twig, and he can't bear to meet Lee's eyes for longer than a second.
"Hey, don't be like that," Lee says a bit more firmly, getting Sceptile to finally look up glumly. "That was a lot of power you had to handle, and a new typing on top of it. You did great."
"Did great?" Sceptile hisses in disbelief. "I * cut you *! I almost attacked Nine* out of some petty * of superiority!"
With distress throwing off Sceptile's tone, it takes Lee a moment to put the hisses and deep trills into words, but when he puzzles it out, he frowns. "Keyword 'almost'. You listened, you stopped, and you calmed down, all when asked. We all know that Mega Evolution carries risks…"
The volcano and Camerupt's rampage replays for both he and Ninetales, and the fox presses herself to his side. For his sake or her own, neither can say.
"You just needed a little help to keep your head on straight, and you came down just fine," Lee soldiers on, putting the memory behind him. He grips Sceptile's shoulder a little tighter. "I knew you wouldn't actually harm me, Sceptile. I trust you."
Sceptile shudders, hanging his head. "It's not you I wanted to harm…"
Lee looks to Ninetales, who is regarding Sceptile with an uncomfortable glare. "You… You've always been a good teammate and a better friend, Sceptile," Ninetales begins aloud, and it's plain to him that his fox is struggling to not let an instinctive grudge form. "As Lee said, controlling something like Mega Evolution is a daunting task, one few can hope to achieve. I can forgive you for your lapse in control… This once, and only once, however. I expect you to do better."
Sceptile's reply is a quiet hiss, too low for Lee to properly interpret, but the way the tension eases from the Grass-type's shoulders is heartening.
"Well." Lee smiles and stands, offering a hand that Sceptile takes, letting his trainer pull him to his feet. "We know what we did wrong. Are you up for the challenge of trying again?"
Sceptile's face hardens, and his answer is a crisp nod.
The following attempts are much better in Lee's opinion.
The second time, Lee doesn't let his own doubt reach the surface, and keeps a steady rhythm to his breathing, counting along with his watch. When Mega Sceptile emerges once more, it's a far calmer affair.
Again, Sceptile's eyes lock to Ninetales, but there is no violent outburst, and eventually, the newly evolved Dragon drops his smoldering gaze to the grass as Lee comes up close, notebook in hand. Before Lee can finish, the transformation falters, and Sceptile reverts once more.
The third time is the final time of the afternoon. Lee finally finishes his initial observations, and they try to move into practical testing of Mega Sceptile's abilities.
Try being the keyword.
Even though he does little each time, transforming three times in one day is just too much for even a pokemon as hardy as Sceptile, as he drops out of his Mega form before he can use a single move, falling to his knees and nearly down on his face in exhaustion.
"You did so well today, Sceptile." Lee smiles down to the panting gecko pokemon. "You'll have Mega Evolution perfected in no time at this rate."
He gets an annoyed grunt in return, only for that annoyance to turn to mortification as Sceptile's stomach growls like a starving beast. Standing on shaky legs, Sceptile covers his stomach with his hands like it'll silence the demands for food.
"Huh, a heightened metabolic state could potentially explain why your temperature rises so much while transformed…" Lee mutters, pulling his half-rolled up notebook from his back pocket and trying to find space on his latest page, only to find none. He flips to the next page, and the back cover of the notebook greets him. "Damn it, full again?"
Sceptile manages a weak, raspy chuckle, then groans as his stomach audibly tries to eat itself.
Clicking his tongue, Lee tosses the full notebook into his backpack and pulls it on. "We'll call it here for today, everyone," he says, looking between each of his pokemon before stopping on Sceptle. "Think about what you want for an early dinner, Sceptile. We can order in, or I can make whatever you want, double portions."
Sceptile wears a rare grin as he, Sylveon, Shinx, Ninetales, and Octillery are recalled into their balls, leaving Corvi and Lee alone in the clearing.
Checking his watch, which reads 3:07, Lee strokes Corvi's wing as the great corvid sits. "Thanks again for the feathers, Corvi," Lee says as he pulls Corviknight's saddle from his bag and begins unfolding it. "They're some top-notch stuff."
Corvi's chest puffs up, and his deep croak seems to say: "Of course they are!"
Later that evening, with stomachs full of takeout and a movie no one is really watching on the large TV in the living space, Lee and Ninetales sit cuddled on the couch, the last two awake for their final night in Petalburg.
On his side, with Nine spooned to him like a living heated blanket, Lee looks up away from the Fortree hotel reservations on his phone screen to give the living room of the current abode a once over.
Sitting against the corner of the L-shaped couch, Brendan sits fast asleep, held in Latias' short arms. The dragon, who is likewise asleep, is engulfed in Swampert's massive embrace, holding Latias and Brendan like teddy bears as he quietly snores. The shiner Swampert is sporting over his left eye tells everyone that Brendan spent the day battling.
Zinnia lays on her back on the other side of the couch, a pillow over her face and dead to the world. On her stomach, Sliggoo is curled up like a snail, his body partially retracted into the little curly shell on his back. The cute scene almost distracts from the bandages wrapped around her left hand, and the slight scent of ointment that permeates the room.
'What was she up to?' Lee groggily wonders. 'I hope she didn't get the same idea we did…'
The rest of the pokemon are away in their balls, snoozing off their heavy meals.
"Nine?" Lee mumbles, putting his phone down and focusing on combing his fingers through her chest fur.
One of her ears flicks, tickling his nose. 'Yes?'
'It's probably about time we let everyone in on the Giratina thing,' he replies silently. 'It's been almost two weeks.'
'We have been putting it off, haven't we?' the fox sends back rhetorically, returning her head to look back at him with one ruby eye. 'Tomorrow, or when we arrive in Fortree?'
'Forgreen… Fortnite… Whatever, Fortree, you know what I mean.' Lee yawns. 'Once everyone is settled in we'll say something.'
'Mmm.'
'Nine?'
'Yes, beloved?'
'No hard feelings for Sceptile, right?'
This time, Ninetales takes longer to answer, and Lee can feel the mix of emotions in her chest, right under his hand.
'No,' the vixen sighs. 'He wasn't in his right state of mind, and I don't know if Mega pokemon even have a proper state of mind. For all we know, theirs is a madness that never goes away and can only be managed.'
Now it's Lee's turn to ponder, but before he can think of something to say, the phone laying on Ninetales' side suddenly vibrates with a call, making both pokemon and trainer jump.
"Who the hell is calling at this hour?" Lee frowns, picking up his phone and looking at the caller ID.
What he reads snaps him back awake in an instant.
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In a secluded, newly discovered clearing outside Petalburg, the morning air is as crisp as the first bite into a ripe, juicy apple, putting a smile on Lee's face.
Getting here without being mobbed was an interesting ordeal. With the Petalburg Gym done and dusted, his and Brendan's urban legends grew to new heights. The choice to use Sceptile and Swampert rather than their "strongest" pokemon against Norman's unusual challenge whipped up BattleNet into a flurry of speculation about how truly strong the rest of their teams might be.
As Lee half-expected, Norman got very little blowback for his curveball, similar to how Moore got little more than grumbles for his. Hell, losing seems to have been the best outcome for Norman, for he was lauded for giving everything he had and taking his fall with grace.
But the more he thinks about it, the more Lee realizes Norman probably had little choice. Had he taken it easy on them, the accusations of softballing for his best friend's son and employee would have been swift. Even an average challenge might have drawn suspicious eyes.
"And on my end, if I was going to lose, I needed to make it an exciting, valiant loss for the bean counters upstairs."
The sudden change in the challenge still bothers him a little, but in the end, they won, and that's that. He's glad he didn't back out now, for if he had, his and the Lab's own prestige might have been in the crossfire.
Speaking of prestige…
Normally, when trainers find themselves the subject of intense attention online, they'd have something to say on the matter — they'd want to interact — but his and Brendan's steadfast reservation on the matter is driving the powerscaling nerds online into a frenzy, doubly so now that Brendan and Latias have been sighted enough to confirm her capture. The boy's megathread is on fire, and is set to outpace Lee's soon enough.
"Why not use Latias?" they ask. "Surely she's stronger. She's a legend! A pokemon so mighty that nothing can stop them!"
"Where is Ninetales?" they wonder. She fought Ty the Typhlosion to a dramatic standstill, yet her weaker teammate Sceptile went toe-to-toe with Slaking, a pokemon even stronger than Ty. Was it not worth her time?
With Lee's aversion to social media and Brendan's image being carefully maintained by Monty and the lab PR team, they're getting nothing, and they hate it.
'Maybe I should say something at some point, lest expectations balloon out of control…' Lee muses, shifting his notebook and pen to one hand, then taking his phone from his pocket and opening his favorite BattleNet group, Fox Friday.
As it usually is, there are three dozen unread notifications aimed squarely at him, and all of them are ignored. Instead, he scrolls up to see that the theme of the week is "Cuddly Selfies".
There is a teen girl with her Braixen, who has her ear fluff tied in braids like her trainer's brown hair. Both are mid-hug and smiling for the camera.
Another features a pale Galarian boy holding his Nickit, who looks less than pleased with the arrangement.
The one garnering the most attention, however, is a man cradling a small and quite young three-tailed Vulpix, who is fast asleep. Of course, Lee shows his own appreciation by pressing the little heart button under the post, making the counter rise from 77 to 78.
Tapping the attachment button with his thumb, Lee scrolls through his pictures for something to send, and smiles when finds just the right photo.
Today at 11:55 AM
L_Henson: Fluffy
(Attachment #1)
There isn't much to see in the picture, other than the view of his arm emerging from a golden cocoon of tails to hold the phone.
…Multiple people are typing…
'Close, and mute.' He smirks, tucking his phone away and returning his attention outward.
Just a few yards away, in a small, translucent purple box of psychic walls erected by Ninetales, Sylveon and Shinx dart in and out at each other in a game of half tag, half chicken. Sylveon's pink and white fur shimmers faintly in the morning light, and Shinx's own coat crackles with static.
Both the youngest and oldest members of the team are the most physically fragile—which isn't to say they are frail in any way; it's just, when compared to the rest of the team, they aren't the most tanky pokemon around. The solution for this?
Condition them to automatically retaliate when struck, to punish the foe for daring to attack in the first place.
Classical conditioning, or Pavlovian conditioning as it's sometimes called, was something Lee studied in college, then made practical use of under Aasir's watchful eye. It's how animal handlers, dog trainers especially, train their charges to perform tasks or behave. To boil the concept down, it's the process of associating one stimulus to another, like the pleasure of a food reward after following a command, until just the spoken command compels the wanted behavior because of an unconscious association with the other stimulus.
Now, this doesn't work the same with pokemon considering their higher brain functions are comparable to a human, but that doesn't mean the concept is useless.
In the cramped, translucent cube, Shinx ducks under Sylveon's latest charge, then bashes her head into the fairy's stomach.
Immediately, the cube lights up with a burning, silvery light as Sylveon lets a newly-learned Dazzling Gleam rip, drawing a pained hiss from Shinx, who then lets Spark arc over her body, electrocuting Sylveon in a brutal cycle.
Before long, it'll be purely instinct.
The two pull away from each other on shaky paws, both burned and twitching.
Is it a bit of a gamble? Could they accidentally let a move fly after stubbing a toe, or a pulled tail, or something? Maybe, but most trainer-oriented spaces have insurance just for pokemon damage, and he's got the cash to pay little things out of pocket.
'Uh oh, is this how real pros think?' Lee wonders, looking down at his notebook as he scratches down the result of Shinx and Sylveon's latest clash. 'Yeah, sorry my cat started an electrical fire that torched your whole building. My bad.'
From where she sits a few paces away, Ninetales lets out an amused huff. 'I believe that without the adrenaline of a true bout, something as mundane as a pulled tail won't result in property damage.'
'Really? What if I pulled your tail?' Lee shoots back, an eyebrow rising.
The vixen's eyes flash with laughter. 'Goodness, the other half of my soul is planning to give one of mine tails a yank. How could I ever prepare for that?'
Point. 'And if someone else did?'
'Ah, but beloved, that violence would be premeditated, not spontaneous.'
Lee shakes his head. 'Let's not,' he sends, before flipping to an ear-marked page in his notebook and looking over to the other half of the field.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Sceptile, with his Siphon Blade held ready, ducks one supersonic bolt of black from above, which hits the earth like an artillery shell—
BOOM!
—sidesteps another—
BOOM!
—then swipes his weapon downward faster than the eye can see, bisecting the final shot with a shower of sparks. The two halves fly on either side of him, hitting the ground like the others.
BO-BOOM!
Turned dirt and shredded grass flies high, only to be dispelled seconds later by monstrous wingbeats from above.
Flying in a tight circle above the sparring ground, Corviknight keeps a watchful red eye on the green gecko below.
Just under him, and clinging to Corvi's chestplate like an upside-down limpet, or more appropriately, like a cannon fitted to an aircraft, Octillery stares at Sceptile with narrow, vexed eyes.
The duo in the sky both shimmer with the faint pink of Corvi's Light Screen, keeping Octillery shielded from the retaliatory Energy Balls Sceptile was hurling at the beginning of the bout.
Sceptile doesn't give them the chance to attack again freely, and instead fires back with a differing attack, this time a Seed Blast. With only a blink's worth of charge time, he spits a supersonic cone of seeds with green, luminous trails at the pair.
Corvi's eyes narrow, and an emerald sphere surrounds both him and his passenger in the nick of time, sending the seeds deflecting off in every direction with a series of ringing ricochets.
Lee looks down at his notes and scribbles away. 'Gunship Maneuver shows exceptional promise. Eliminates Octillery's key weaknesses and gives the team the power to attack in one direction and move in another. Octillery has no issues adjusting aim from inverted position, as expected. Will test more before live application.'
Beep-beep!
The noon alarm set on Lee's phone goes off, so he shuts his notebook with a snap, sheathes his pen in the binding rings, and takes a deep breath. "Break for lunch, everyone!"
In a heartbeat, all of his pokemon are assembled around him, bright-eyed and ignoring any little wounds they have.
'Wow, that was fast. Maybe Teleport is on the table for more than just Nine and Octillery.' Lee laughs under his breath, dropping his backpack and digging inside.
In short order, cling-wrap-covered bowls of food filled to almost bursting with extra portions are passed out, and any idle talk is eschewed for the sound of munching.
Unwrapping and biting into his own lunch, a simple sandwich, Lee lets his eyes roam the edge of the clearing as he sits in the grass.
'We're a good five-six miles out from Petalburg, and the area is relatively free of any native pokemon,' he plots, keeping his thoughts to himself so Nine can focus on enjoying her food. 'Sceptile is my most level-headed team member by far, but still…' His gaze, now a touch unsettled, falls to the glimmering stone set in the gorget around Sceptile's neck.
'...It's hard to say what he'll be like after getting Dragon as a second type, let alone what his headspace will be like after the mega-evolution itself.'
A glittering akin to the one of Sceptile's megastone beams Lee right in the eye. Squinting, he looks at his own wrist.
There, his keystone stares back. The timepiece built around it ticks away, reading 12:04.
Stuffing the last of his lunch in his mouth and chewing slowly, Lee raises the watch to the sun, where the dark blue-tinted steel band shines and the keystone sends rainbow rays scattering over his face.
The watch really is a work of art, and still he feels as if he underpaid for it despite the four-thousand credit price tag.
After the battle at the Petalburg Gym, Lee set out to find a jeweler who could set his keystone in some kind of sturdy bracelet, so he wasn't carrying the thing just loose in his pocket all the time. Unfortunately, his fame bit him in the ass here, as all of the jewelers in Petalburg are small-time, local shops. When he, the infamous Lee Henson, walked in with a commission that hinged on them signing an NDA before he'd even let them see the stone they were working with, all of them turned him away.
Well, nearly all of them.
Determined to try one more place before hopping on Corvi and flying to a larger city like Mauville, Lee stopped into a shop that specialized in timepieces, finding a rather… peculiar encounter waiting inside.
The ring of the bell above the door can't hope to cover the perfect, synchronized 'tick-tock-tick-tock' of every single clock in the store.
As they step inside, both Lee and Ninetales crane their heads around, taking in the walls utterly filled with a medley of clocks.
In one corner, an artful grandfather clock, carved with tree and grass pokemon motifs, stands, its internal weights and pulleys freshly wound.
On one wall, a cuckoo clock ticks away, and Lee can spy joints around the wings and beaks of the extra, wooden Taillow perched before the central cuckoo clock door. The little birds seem impatient, forced to wait for the top of the hour before they can sing.
Near the back wall and hosting the cash register is a glass jewelry case that stretches from one wall to the next, filled with watches of all sorts. From plain watches with stainless steel bands to pocket watches etched with golden filigree, it seems like there is something for every taste and priced for every budget.
And every single one, down to the second, is perfectly synced.
'Did the owner make all of these?' Lee can't help but wonder. 'I know the sign on the door said everything is hand-made, but…'
Ninetales flicks an ear, but even her sharp hearing can't pick out any kind of flaw in the cadence of the ticking all around them. 'If the sign is truthful, then the proprietor certainly takes their craft seriously.'
"Hoo?"
From a half-open door behind the watch case-slash-front counter, a Hoothoot flutters out and into the register, settling and bobbing his head in-tune with all of the clocks.
"Hey there," Lee greets, struggling to tear his eyes away from all the wild art around him. He shifts the folder holding the NDA for the keystone from under his arm to his hands. "Is the owner in? I'd like to talk about a commission."
"Hmm? A commission?" a whispery voice from the back room Hoothoot just vacated asks. Through Nine's ears, Lee can just barely hear the sound of something small and metallic being dropped into place. "I'm working right now, dear customer, and cannot stop, lest I lose my rhythm, but I'm listening. Please, go ahead."
"Uh…" Lee smiles unsurely and sets his folder on the counter. "It should be simple for someone like you, sir. I just need a jewel set into a band."
"Oh?" the owner asks amid a metallic creak. "I'm sorry, dear customer. I only deal in timepieces. I cannot accept."
Lee blinks. "Uh… This should be an easy commission, sir. It's literally just a sturdy bracelet I need."
"And I cannot accept. I'm sorry."
Lee shares a glance with Nine.
'Is this guy serious?'
Ninetales takes her time to answer, though in real-world time that's hardly a second. 'Artists are usually as eccentric as they are skillful, Beloved. He must have some sort of code or fixation he's unwilling to violate,' she sends back, turning her eyes to a pocketwatch in the case.
The cheery Swablu etched into the case meets her red gaze unflinchingly.
'Perhaps requesting a watch will yield a better result?' Ninetales continues, looking up at him. 'Should you ever need to don formal attire, you'll look quite fetching with a tasteful timepiece to round out the ensemble.'
Lee mulls it over. "Sir? Could you maybe incorporate the jewel I have into a watch? If you could-!"
"Ah, I would be delighted," the unseen owner cuts him off. "Tell me, dear customer, which hand is your dominant hand?"
"Uh, it's my right," Lee answers before raising his folder. "We should discuss a few-"
"Your birthday?"
"Things - It's October 14th. Now, we should-"
"Oh, happy almost birthday then, dear customer."
Lee pauses. 'Oh, shit. That is just a few days away, isn't it?'
'Treat this as a gift to yourself, then,' Ninetales adds her two cents, nosing his elbow.
With his train of thought derailed, the shop owner is free to ask Lee a barrage of seemingly nonsensical questions. When he decided to be a trainer, the date of his high school graduation, what time he was born, things that don't seem to relate at all to making a watch.
"Hmm… That should do…" the man murmurs from his workshop behind the door. "Ah, you wished for the band to be quite immovable once fastened, correct?"
"Thats the idea…" Lee slumps forward and puts his elbows on the glass case. He just wants a watch; why the quiz?
"I understand. Hootie, can you bring everything back so I may begin as soon as this project is done?"
The Hoothoot on the register gives Lee a questioning "Hoo?", but Lee shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to have some paperwork signed beforehand. The gem in question is quite valuable and I require an indefinite NDA for this commission before I can turn it over."
There is a sigh from behind the door, and Lee almost misses it, but from inside comes the sound of a metronome being clicked on, synced to the clocks. "Hootie?"
Hoothoot carefully takes the folder from Lee's hand, and flies back into the workshop. The scratch of a pen over paper follows, and Hoothoot flutters back out, presenting the signed document to Lee.
On the page is a loopy, cursive signature for one 'Willard C. Lock'.
Satisfied, Lee takes the keystone, hidden away in a little drawstring bag, from his pocket. He hesitates, then gives it to Hoothoot, who once more takes it back to 'Lock'.
"Ah… I understand the need for caution," Lock murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard over his clocks. "The strongest material I offer is Aggron shed. Quite robust, and polishes to a mirror shine… Unless there is another material you would like to request?"
'I'm already in this deep, may as well go all the way.' Lee removes his backpack and sticks a hand in, careful not to be too hasty, lest he cut himself. "I have a few feathers from my Corviknight. Could you use those?"
After turning over the feathers and the keystone, Lock told them to come back the next day, which seemed too short to Lee, but sure enough on the morning after, Hootie was waiting with a small box, and inside was the watch.
The dark metal bracelet holding the watch and keystone is formed from thick, hardy links, with a latch that refuses to give no matter how hard Lee pulls at it. The watch face itself is a little marvel, as with the keystone in the center, Lock had to put the hands on the outside edge. Three rings, one for seconds, one for minutes, and one for hours, are each fitted with an inward pointed hand, all of them rotating around the center to point at etched numerals around the keystone. The whole face is covered with shatter-proof glass, keeping the stone and delicate internals protected. With the whole thing being wrought from Corvi's armor, Lee is certain only an act of extraordinary violence could break it.
Nigel already sourced Brendan a thick bracelet with a shutter to hide his keystone, and Zinnia has some loopy, spring-like draconid accessory she's taken to wearing around her leg for her stone. If they didn't already have their own solutions, Lee definitely would have pointed them towards Lock.
The longer he stares at the rainbow gem, the more it shines, and the more it shines, the more his stomach roils with odd emotions, so Lee lowers his hand. 'Huh. It fits perfectly, but I don't remember ever giving Lock my wrist measurements…'
The minutes roll by, and soon six bowls of lunch are polished off. As everyone sits and lets their food hit bottom, nerves build among man and pokemon alike.
Taking a deep breath, Lee stands and gestures for everyone sans Sceptile to get behind him. "Ready, pal?"
Sceptile, cool as can be, nods once.
Taking his notebook from his bag once more, Lee licks his lips and flips to a clean page. "Mega Evolution trials, attempt one," he murmurs, dictating to himself as he writes. "Okay, everyone brace," he warns, raising his watch.
'Please don't go wrong…'
Even if it isn't alive, the keystone sits at the very edge of his consciousness, waiting to be noticed and given energy. If Lee weren't so familiar with minds touching his own, he would have totally missed the stone. Despite not having any kind of telepathic talent of his own, reaching his inner self out to the stone is deceptively easy, and the ephemeral fingers that wrap around the keystone find it quite warm.
"Here goes." Lee gulps, keeping Sceptile and what the great gecko truly means to him in mind.
'Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
Both the stone on his watch and around Sceptile's neck begin to glow with an inner light, and Lee jumps when something reaches into him, past his mind, and deep into trenches only Ninetales has ever seen. It's there and gone for an instant, but the touch is like a shot from a stun gun.
Still, he keeps the internal mantra rolling.
Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
Lee shudders, going back once more to his first real encounter with a Mega pokemon.
The mountain shook with each stomp.
Fire and brimstone rained.
They were set to die.
Sceptile bites down on his twig, and in Lee's chest, a heart that doesn't belong to him feels as if it's beating in-sync with his own. Both are racing.
Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family. Legend. Dear friend. Irreplaceable. Family.'
The light is blinding, and Sceptile's eyes screw shut. The corona around him goes from shining rays, to a prismatic shell, bending in ways that should be impossible. In the span of a breath, all that is left is a crystalline egg.
It holds for one second that stretches on for far too long, then it explodes outward in a shower of shards and raw force.
"Shit!" Lee's arms rise to shield his face, but all of the shards dissolve into motes of light long before they reach him. Tentatively lowering his arms and cracking his eyes open, the sight that greets him drops his jaw.
There, standing in a circle of scorched grass with arcs of wild green TE traveling up and down his body, is Sceptile.
Mega Sceptile.
The first thing Lee notices is his height. The transformed Sceptile would tower over his previous form, and can nearly look Corvi in the eye. The twin ridges on his head and over his eyes now stand up further, with crescent shapes punched into each one.
On his chest, an x-shaped breastplate of rustling, razor leaves grind with each breath Sceptile takes. Like the faded, starburst scars on his old form's chest, the leaves are a pale green.
Then there's the red.
The tips of his wrist leaves, the scales under his eyes, the stripes on his belly, and the new stripes down his spine and around his tail are dyed a deep, bloody red. The tip of his tail, now ending in a four-sided, arrow-like broadhead, has the deepest hue.
Sceptile's eyes snap open, showing tiny black slits amid a sea of wide, wild yellow.
The Mega takes a deep breath, green lightning arcing around him once more, and each time one of the arcs strikes the ground, the grass around the strike zone instantly shoots up to shin height. The air itself is filled with an electric-like charge, and something akin to static runs up and down Lee's body, from his fingertips to his toes.
All around, bird pokemon take to the skies, fleeing the trees with a cacophony of screeches, each one sounding less like warning calls, and more like mindless panic. Once they're gone, all that is left is an eerie silence.
"Sceptile?" Lee asks, trying his damndest to not flinch when the Mega's gaze shoots to him. "How are you feeling?"
How is he feeling?
If evolution was euphoria, then Sceptile has no name for this experience, as it's beyond any words, both 'mon and man.
His whole being thrums with unfettered power, beyond any of his wildest dreams. Before, he mused that with but a flick of his ankles, it felt as if he'd fly up into the sky and never come down.
Now? It feels like that would be reality. One kick upon the earth too hard, and he'd shoot to the moon.
The red-tipped leaf that springs to his palm and extends into a blade as tall as himself. He does so with such ease, that even breathing seems like a labor in comparison. The movement is smooth and easy, but still draws a thrill of unease from his spectators.
That's okay. They're weak. It's natural to be afraid. One cleave from him would tear the whole world asunder, after all.
Sceptile's eyes settle on the one who he's never defeated, always playing second fiddle to.
Next to his human, Ninetales stares back, her jaw set and those pesky tails shivering like Seviper.
Ninetales. Ace and Queen of Team Henson. A fiery tempest upon four legs that only grows more focused and raging as time marches on. His leader, his alpha… until now.
Sceptile raises his weapon, and his heart races with the other phantom heart in his breast. His blood sings, his claws tingle, and his breath comes steady despite the thundering heartbeat in his ears.
It's time. Ninetales has served well thus far, but it's time for the crown to rest upon his head, not hers. Time he takes his place as the strongest with the entire team to bear witness.
Once that crown is his?
The next one, as the strongest pokemon ever, is only a meager leap away.
He moves, there one moment, gone the-
"Sceptile, Stop!"
To Lee's horror, his sole Mega raises his leafy sword high, and the blade, even moving at a sedate pace, cuts through the uneasy silence with the whistle of air upon a beyond-razor edge. Those wild, dragon-like eyes stare burning holes into Ninetales. Lee's heart won't stop its frantic drumbeat, mirrored by the reflection of Sceptile's own heart.
The heart on the other side of his chest…
In a way, it's like his bond with Ninetales, only so much more focused yet muted all at the same time. There aren't any words or feelings, just bodies and… and something else moving in sync. Every movement Sceptile makes, his own muscles want to imitate, and even now, his right arm twitches as if it wants to rise and mimic Sceptile's stance.
That odd bond, so familiar yet different, is why he feels the strike long before it actually comes.
"Sceptile, Stop!" Lee screams, jumping right into the Mega's path as the sword screams down like a flash.
'Lee!' Nine cries, her words almost lost as Shinx, Sylveon, Octillery, and Corviknight all cry out as well, far, far too slow to do anything.
The humming, glowing blade stops dead, only an inch from splitting Lee's skull in two. Where there should have been an explosion of wind from the sudden stop, there is nothing, barely even a whisper of displaced air, and the hairs on Lee's neck stand up.
"Hrrrn?" Sceptile growls, staring down at him with narrow, accusing eyes.
"No, Sceptile." Lee stares back up, forcing the shakes that want to overtake him back. "This isn't you. Whatever… Whatever this is," he begins, reaching up and pinching the sword between his eyes with a finger and thumb, pushing it away, "its not you. Just calm down, okay?"
Lee raises his watch, looking down at the second hand as it turns, and then returns his attention to Sceptile. "Here. Watch the hand tick down, bring your heartrate down with me. One per second, okay?"
There isn't any acknowledgement from the towering lizard, but neither does he move to strike again.
'Lee!' Ninetales hisses within his mind, standing at his side and staring up at Sceptile with flames licking the edges of her lips. 'This is insanity! Back up and let us stall him until he exhausts himself! He cannot handle it and could snap again!'
'Just give me a minute, love,' Lee sends back, moving his tongue to try and wet his dry-as-cotton mouth. 'I have faith in him.'
The seconds roll by, and all of the pokemon around Lee, from Ninetales with her wary stare, to Shinx, who is shaking but crackling with a Spark ready, wait with bated breath. Only the near silent tick-tick-tick of the watch reminds them that time isn't standing still.
With each second, Sceptile leans further and further down, fixated on the second ring of the watch as it turns, and with each tick, Lee feels not only his own heart finally begin to settle, but also the phantom one beside it.
"Thats it, just calm down, Sceptile," Lee murmurs, raising his other hand and gently placing it on Sceptile's brow. The green scales are near-burning hot to the touch, but the man ignores the discomfort. "We're both just going to take it easy for now."
Tick-beat. Tick-beat. Tick-beat. Tick-beat.
Once one minute has come and gone, Sceptile has sunk to his hands and knees, with Lee's hand rubbing a circle on the top of his head.
'It's like with a wild animal.' The realization strikes Lee, and he silently kicks himself. 'Only far more literal. Sceptile wasn't antsy because he could sense my own nerves, he was directly feeding off of them. Shit. Way to go, Lee…' He pinches the bridge of his nose. 'It's fine. No one was hurt. We'll do better next time.'
Sceptile slumps, his fire gone without any warning, making Lee withdraw his hand in surprise. A dull light overtakes his form, and he shrinks back down, leaving him shaking on the ground with his head bowed low.
Lee presses a hand to his chest, feeling only one beat this time, then kneels down next to his pokemon. "Sceptile?" he begins gently. "How are you feeling?"
The gecko shakes his head, refusing to look up.
"Sceptile, c'mon. It's okay, nothing happened," Lee urges, reaching out and touching Sceptile on the shoulder, garnering a flinch in return. "Look at me, pal."
The Grass-type finally raises his head, and never before has Lee seen such profound shame on a pokemon's face. Sceptile's jaws are clenched around his twig, and he can't bear to meet Lee's eyes for longer than a second.
"Hey, don't be like that," Lee says a bit more firmly, getting Sceptile to finally look up glumly. "That was a lot of power you had to handle, and a new typing on top of it. You did great."
"Did great?" Sceptile hisses in disbelief. "I * cut you *! I almost attacked Nine* out of some petty * of superiority!"
With distress throwing off Sceptile's tone, it takes Lee a moment to put the hisses and deep trills into words, but when he puzzles it out, he frowns. "Keyword 'almost'. You listened, you stopped, and you calmed down, all when asked. We all know that Mega Evolution carries risks…"
The volcano and Camerupt's rampage replays for both he and Ninetales, and the fox presses herself to his side. For his sake or her own, neither can say.
"You just needed a little help to keep your head on straight, and you came down just fine," Lee soldiers on, putting the memory behind him. He grips Sceptile's shoulder a little tighter. "I knew you wouldn't actually harm me, Sceptile. I trust you."
Sceptile shudders, hanging his head. "It's not you I wanted to harm…"
Lee looks to Ninetales, who is regarding Sceptile with an uncomfortable glare. "You… You've always been a good teammate and a better friend, Sceptile," Ninetales begins aloud, and it's plain to him that his fox is struggling to not let an instinctive grudge form. "As Lee said, controlling something like Mega Evolution is a daunting task, one few can hope to achieve. I can forgive you for your lapse in control… This once, and only once, however. I expect you to do better."
Sceptile's reply is a quiet hiss, too low for Lee to properly interpret, but the way the tension eases from the Grass-type's shoulders is heartening.
"Well." Lee smiles and stands, offering a hand that Sceptile takes, letting his trainer pull him to his feet. "We know what we did wrong. Are you up for the challenge of trying again?"
Sceptile's face hardens, and his answer is a crisp nod.
The following attempts are much better in Lee's opinion.
The second time, Lee doesn't let his own doubt reach the surface, and keeps a steady rhythm to his breathing, counting along with his watch. When Mega Sceptile emerges once more, it's a far calmer affair.
Again, Sceptile's eyes lock to Ninetales, but there is no violent outburst, and eventually, the newly evolved Dragon drops his smoldering gaze to the grass as Lee comes up close, notebook in hand. Before Lee can finish, the transformation falters, and Sceptile reverts once more.
The third time is the final time of the afternoon. Lee finally finishes his initial observations, and they try to move into practical testing of Mega Sceptile's abilities.
Try being the keyword.
Even though he does little each time, transforming three times in one day is just too much for even a pokemon as hardy as Sceptile, as he drops out of his Mega form before he can use a single move, falling to his knees and nearly down on his face in exhaustion.
"You did so well today, Sceptile." Lee smiles down to the panting gecko pokemon. "You'll have Mega Evolution perfected in no time at this rate."
He gets an annoyed grunt in return, only for that annoyance to turn to mortification as Sceptile's stomach growls like a starving beast. Standing on shaky legs, Sceptile covers his stomach with his hands like it'll silence the demands for food.
"Huh, a heightened metabolic state could potentially explain why your temperature rises so much while transformed…" Lee mutters, pulling his half-rolled up notebook from his back pocket and trying to find space on his latest page, only to find none. He flips to the next page, and the back cover of the notebook greets him. "Damn it, full again?"
Sceptile manages a weak, raspy chuckle, then groans as his stomach audibly tries to eat itself.
Clicking his tongue, Lee tosses the full notebook into his backpack and pulls it on. "We'll call it here for today, everyone," he says, looking between each of his pokemon before stopping on Sceptle. "Think about what you want for an early dinner, Sceptile. We can order in, or I can make whatever you want, double portions."
Sceptile wears a rare grin as he, Sylveon, Shinx, Ninetales, and Octillery are recalled into their balls, leaving Corvi and Lee alone in the clearing.
Checking his watch, which reads 3:07, Lee strokes Corvi's wing as the great corvid sits. "Thanks again for the feathers, Corvi," Lee says as he pulls Corviknight's saddle from his bag and begins unfolding it. "They're some top-notch stuff."
Corvi's chest puffs up, and his deep croak seems to say: "Of course they are!"
Later that evening, with stomachs full of takeout and a movie no one is really watching on the large TV in the living space, Lee and Ninetales sit cuddled on the couch, the last two awake for their final night in Petalburg.
On his side, with Nine spooned to him like a living heated blanket, Lee looks up away from the Fortree hotel reservations on his phone screen to give the living room of the current abode a once over.
Sitting against the corner of the L-shaped couch, Brendan sits fast asleep, held in Latias' short arms. The dragon, who is likewise asleep, is engulfed in Swampert's massive embrace, holding Latias and Brendan like teddy bears as he quietly snores. The shiner Swampert is sporting over his left eye tells everyone that Brendan spent the day battling.
Zinnia lays on her back on the other side of the couch, a pillow over her face and dead to the world. On her stomach, Sliggoo is curled up like a snail, his body partially retracted into the little curly shell on his back. The cute scene almost distracts from the bandages wrapped around her left hand, and the slight scent of ointment that permeates the room.
'What was she up to?' Lee groggily wonders. 'I hope she didn't get the same idea we did…'
The rest of the pokemon are away in their balls, snoozing off their heavy meals.
"Nine?" Lee mumbles, putting his phone down and focusing on combing his fingers through her chest fur.
One of her ears flicks, tickling his nose. 'Yes?'
'It's probably about time we let everyone in on the Giratina thing,' he replies silently. 'It's been almost two weeks.'
'We have been putting it off, haven't we?' the fox sends back rhetorically, returning her head to look back at him with one ruby eye. 'Tomorrow, or when we arrive in Fortree?'
'Forgreen… Fortnite… Whatever, Fortree, you know what I mean.' Lee yawns. 'Once everyone is settled in we'll say something.'
'Mmm.'
'Nine?'
'Yes, beloved?'
'No hard feelings for Sceptile, right?'
This time, Ninetales takes longer to answer, and Lee can feel the mix of emotions in her chest, right under his hand.
'No,' the vixen sighs. 'He wasn't in his right state of mind, and I don't know if Mega pokemon even have a proper state of mind. For all we know, theirs is a madness that never goes away and can only be managed.'
Now it's Lee's turn to ponder, but before he can think of something to say, the phone laying on Ninetales' side suddenly vibrates with a call, making both pokemon and trainer jump.
"Who the hell is calling at this hour?" Lee frowns, picking up his phone and looking at the caller ID.
What he reads snaps him back awake in an instant.
INCOMING CALL FROM: CHAMPION STONE
[ACCEPT] [DENY]
[ACCEPT] [DENY]
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ThunderBasilisk
Well Worn Bastion
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2020
- Messages
- 19,328
Damn fine showcase of his mega evolution. Makes sense there would be some hiccups but he's playing it smart. Cant wait to see what it's capabilities are when their able to test them out. And LoL Octillery is an absolute menace and I can't wait to see him unleashed
edk
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2020
- Messages
- 1,386
Really nice chapter. I enjoyed the mega scene but oddly found the clock shop my favorite part. It almost feels like Alice in Wonderland, especially with the not quite unbirthday scene. Plus, I have now learned that I would absolutely buy a pokemon themed grandfather clock.
doomqwer
Experienced.
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2020
- Messages
- 4,404
Ah good to know that you can fuck with Journalist just by doing nothing.
Ah there is that fox/yokai vindictiveness.
Ah well now that is one way to show just how involved Lee has gotten in thing, he has forgotten to give himself a little care while lifting up everyone else.
I really love the way you have portrayed Mega evolution and all the added effect thats come with it.
It really is interesting see just how much the power and the dragon typing effect had on him and it goes to show that mind and body are not separate entities but a lot more interconnected especially when power is concerned
Oh shit I gotta wonder what this is and what Lee is gonna get dragged into next.
lurkingkraken
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Mar 3, 2020
- Messages
- 1,283
Mr. C. Lock is great and I would happily read a story about him doing his best to make clocks despite everything the rediculous demands his customers pile upon him.
Also the image of a hand emerging from nine's fluff is both adorable and the thing you except from a cryptic, given the reputation they have for protecting their tails. So very on brand.
Also would go well in borne of desire, for that matter.
Also the image of a hand emerging from nine's fluff is both adorable and the thing you except from a cryptic, given the reputation they have for protecting their tails. So very on brand.
Also would go well in borne of desire, for that matter.