AN: Reviews appreciated and reciprocated!

The hulking brown mass of a Blastoise shell hurtled across the sandy battlefield, spinning on its axis like a top. Rings of light glimmered in the air around it, generated by the speed of its gyroscopic turn. In the blink of an eye, the Shellfish Pokemon was upon its small, pink foe.

"Counter it with Metal Claw!"

Blastoise's minute opponent dug its sharp feet-claws into the ground and raised its hooked claws. The shiny Weavile gritted its teeth and lashed out at the rapidly approaching shell; its three-pronged hands glinted silver as it drew into the impact, and Metal Claw met Gyro Ball with a sickening screech. The first few rows of the audience, those who could hear the battle first hand, covered their ears and squealed in disdain, but neither the combatant Pokemon nor the trainers took any apparent notice. Though its arms shook from the force it was holding back, Weavile remained steady, keeping the Blastoise at bay. Slowly, the water Pokemon's rotations began to decrease. Its power was wearing out…

"Togekiss! Attack Blastoise while it's distracted!"

The trainer issuing this command was a slender boy of fourteen, perhaps a bit on the tall side, clad in somewhat typical trainer attire of red denim pants, a white t-shirt, baseball cap, and a versatile black nylon vest with a Poke ball print on the lapel; there was a red bandanna tied bandit-style around his neck, which clashed strikingly with his overlong, pale green hair. The trainer motioned as he called to his other Pokemon, which in turn soared into the fray.

Togekiss glided toward its foe, its crown lighting up with a glittering Zen Headbutt. The Jubilee Pokemon's gaze, usually so serene and caring, was locked in frustration on its opponent. At the last second, Blastoise reversed the direction of its spin, spiraling away from Weavile and Togekiss to an uproarious cheer from the crowd. The trainer in the red bandanna bit his lip, temporarily at a loss. Then, from the opposite side of the field,

"Blastoise, fight back with Ice Beam!"

In the far corner, a younger (though perhaps a bit larger) trainer with short, curly blond hair… his face made didn't so much as twitch to indicate either confidence or doubt. Though he was down to his last Pokemon, he remained weirdly calm in his royal blue shirt.

The water Pokemon surged to its feet while still gyrating and came to a spinning stop that kicked up yin-and-yang dust clouds at its feet; its head was already lowered, cannons extended before its foes could move. From deep within its right barrel, a pale blue glow emanated. In the blink of an eye, a white-cold beam lanced across the field and through Togekiss. The Jubilee Pokemon was struck down in one hit; its trainer returned it reluctantly.

"Alright Weavile!" he called. "We've still got this, just hang in there!"

The Weavile nodded and spit a hailstone on the ground defiantly. Blastoise smirked; the blue trainer remained blank.

"Use Hydro Pump," he ordered.

The standoff ended as an immense jet of water erupted from Blastoise's left cannon. The jet tore across the field, but Weavile was faster, agilely leaping over it. The ice-type Pokemon came down hard and rolled its ankle, almost falling on the sand behind Blastoise.

"Dark Pulse!" called its trainer.

Weavile pivoted upright. An aura of energy manifested in the air around Weavile, darkening it; the aura formed into a semisolid black crescent, which arced impressively across the field… but the attack dissipated almost harmlessly against Blastoise's shell, and the huge Pokemon turned around slowly, sneering and amused.

Weavile could no longer run, its ankle was unsteady. It cast about desperately, looking for a way to hold Blastoise off.

"Finish it off," said the blue trainer coolly, finally showing some emotion: relief.

Blastoise's twin cannons rumbled deeply and another Hydro Pump washed across the short distance between it and Weavile… the ice Pokemon was swallowed up, swept into the wall and into submission by the water…

Or so I heard. No, of course I wasn't there, I had and have better things to do with my time than to sit around watching the petty battles of overconfident young trainers.

But, alas, I hear about them often enough. People just tell you things when you're Elite, never mind if you're officially retired and haven't battled any upstarts for years; if it's not some gym leader, it's Bruno, or Lance, or Samuel Oak's boy going on about the amazing potential of some of these kids… and then I never hear about them again. Who cares? Kids come and kids go. I don't ever hear about any of them fulfilling any of that hoity-toity potential.

Then again, I make a point of not listening.

I'm Agatha. If you have to call me, you'll call me Agatha, not Aggy nor Ms. A, and especially not Grandma –I'm not your grandma. Of Elite Four fame, I suppose, though I haven't had anything to do with those ragamuffins in a long time.

In fact, it was just a few days after that battle I was just telling you about that I decided to retire.

I say "I" was telling you about it, but it was more Lorelie's words than mine. She's got a bit of poet's eye for description like that; it's nice description, don't get me wrong, I know just what's going on in the fight, but it's a touch flowery for my taste and I would be wasting my time trying to write it. Still, I'm glad she writes it just the way she does. Lor is a sweet thing, quitting with me when the League told me to retire. What? I said I decided to retire? Well I did, after everyone else had decided for me. Anyway, Lorelie: she's a damn good cook and editor to boot. She and I sort of take care of each other these days.

So; on that fateful day…

The Board of Trustees of the Pokemon League had called a meeting for the Elite Four and gym leaders. Most of us were in attendance, though I didn't see Flint's boy anywhere, the one from Pewter City… Mr. Kanagawa, the balding, diminutive Chairman of the Board, stood behind the long table at the head of the meeting room, calling all to order.

"Um. We've, uh, we've asked you all here today to discuss the confrontation of a dire threat against our, err, our proud, proud nation..."

He paused, not so much for affect as to read the script his secretary had typed up, which lay on the podium before him. He adjusted his glasses nervously. I sat in the back, struggling quietly to light my pipe.

"A dire threat," he repeated. "Uh, that is, the decreased levels of tourism."

I raised an eyebrow. No one else in the room seemed to have thought anything of what he said; perhaps, then, it was true, and I was the ignorant old fool after all. Perhaps, but I tend to doubt it.

Idiots.

"In the, uh, the last five years, first Johto, then Hoenn, and Sinnoh have all begun to promote their own leagues that draw in trainers from all over the world. That in itself is, uh, not a bad thing, per se; we've, you know, advertised quite a bit ourselves. We are still the oldest and original Pokemon League.

"But two years ago, this man"- a slide was projected on the wall of a fat man, flamboyant haircut, cutthroat smile, in shades and a Hawaiian shirt-"Scott Enishida, an, uh, entrepreneur from Hoenn, opened up the world's first Battle Frontier on an island east of the Hoenn mainland in conjunction with the Hoenn Pokemon League… Now, um, a little less than a year after that, the Sinnoh Pokemon League opened up its own Battle Frontier as well. Shortly after, the Johto League announced that they, uh, would be constructing a Battle Frontier as well in sync with Sinnoh's endevoir, and that they would be sharing some facilities and resources with Sinnoh on that, uh, on that project."

A few graphs replaced the fatass on the projector. I didn't bother reading them, but I did notice a few gym leaders shaking their heads sadly at what they saw. Eh. The Conference every year was enough to keep me busy, and if less trainers showed up, my job was only easier. But you know the Pokemon League, bunch of whiny little girls. Like Kangawa, with his ass-mouth drawl.

"As you can see, not only have we, the League, uh, suffered from the loss of trainers, but so have Kanto Businesses. Poke Mart Incorporated has reported a, uh, forty percent decline from the number of visits and purchases made from before the opening of Hoenn's Frontier. Even our, uh, national powerhouse, the Sylph Company, is beginning to fall behind the, um, Devon Company, which now manufactures all of the battle equipment for the other Frontiers. The sad truth is, we are falling behind internationally. Our nation's very, uh, reputation as the home of Pokemon Battles is at stake."

"So what do you propose we do about it?" asked Erika, battling her eyes daintily but accusatorily. Good girl.

"Yeah!" barked Surge, crunching on his cigarette. "It's dandy that you're tellin' us this, but just tellin' doesn't do us any good."

"That," murmured a voice from the back of the room, "would be where I come in."

Everyone but me turned to see who had spoken. I gave it a few seconds and then turned too; what, you think i knew who it was? Agatha's heard a lot of voices in her life, can't be expected to keep them all straight; I just didn't want to look like an idiot jerking my head around like everybody else.

Standing in the far corner was Blaine, bald as a rock, his ginger, handlebar mustache bristling like the scruff on an excited dog. He was baring his teeth like a dog too, old bugger. Let me tell you, Blaine is one fucked up old son of a bitch. Smart as a slap, sure, but crazy as a Wobbuffet.

The old man (what, are you saying I'm old too? I'm a woman, you can't call me old; show some respect, you sexist pig) strutted smartly up to replace Kanagawa at the podium. The Chairman shuffled quietly away.

"You see," said Blaine firmly into the microphone. He paused, cleared his throat. "You see, I came to Mr. Kanagawa here –thank you, by the way, Mr. Kanagawa, for your most informative presentation- with a proposition a few weeks ago. I said to him, 'Kanny, I've been thinking about it, and you know, I just so happen to have an abandoned island on my hands. Ever since the eruption and subsequent abandonment of my beautiful Cinnabar, things just haven't been the same. No Pokemon trainers running around, roughing each other up on the beaches, sunning themselves out on the sand… So I was thinking: why don't we just open up ourselves our own Battle Frontier Right here in Kanto! Cinnabar Island is bigger than the island they've got in Hoenn, and bigger than the facilities in Johto and Sinnoh. We can have ourselves something even better, state of the art, and brand-spakin'-new frontier right here in Kanto!'

"And so he called up this here meeting to spread the news: the board has just signed a deal with Sylph Co, who'll be funding this little venture, to begin the planning and construction official Kanto Battle Frontier. Or, as I like to call it, Poketopia!"

Blaine raised his arms triumphantly, practically shouting the ridiculous name into the mic (which squealed loudly, as if in protest). There were a few hearty cheers, a few interested nods, and a lot of half-hearted claps.

I stood up.

No one really noticed at first, but slowly, one by one, gym leaders and Elite started turning slowly to see me. I tapped my pipe out loudly on the table to grab the attention of the few that were still oblivious. Blaine was the last. He raised a bushy eyebrow in question, opening his mouth to speak…

But the rest of that story is for another day. I have other things to tell you about, and after all, you've barely even met Humbra yet, and this is his story, I'm just the one telling it.

So before I go into how I lost my job (and Lorelie's, come to think of it), and came to find a new quasi-job, I'll tell you some more about him.

Humbra, that is. A boy in need of a little help…