Society had long stated that there were certain rules by which one was to abide. Perhaps the most prominent was that if you were to succeed in the world, you must go with the flow and not question those who were in the social elite class. You behaved a certain way, you looked a certain way, and you spoke a certain way.
Raozya could never find it in his heart to abide by these figurative chains. His free spirit demanded deviation and nothing less. It required uniqueness; individuality. He was not content to follow along with society's cookie-cutter philosophies, but rather to behave in such a way that exclaimed individuality. It was his raison d'être. The boldness of his nature lived and breathed the act of making possible the impossible; to cut the cookie-cutters; to throw the opinions of the stuffed-shirt elitists back in their faces and sa—
Chunks of grass and dirt scattered like confetti before Raozya could finish his thought. It took him a few more moments to realize that the airborne turf had been created by his sliding impact with the ground.
The miniature disaster went largely unnoticed by Napalm and Joas — Raozya's Braixen and Espurr, respectively. Sitting under a shade tree, Napalm had his nose buried firmly in a book titled Speech for Idiots. He had accidentally evolved into a Braixen two days earlier as a result of Tierno's supercharged healer machine. The combination of his new, more humanoid appearance, as well as his envy of Joas' ability to talk, had motivated him to begin speech lessons.
Joas was more than eager to assist. After all, he figured his impish affinity for hurling insults at Raozya could be twice as fun if he had Napalm doing it alongside him.
Dazed, Raozya pushed himself up and spat out a mouthful of dirt. Aside from the pain that was shooting across his entire body, something felt...wrong. His push-up was far heavier than usual, as though there was a foreign mass on his back other than his backpack.
"M-ma...maku...hita..."
Okay, weird noise. He glanced over his shoulder and found a large yellow trash bag sitting on his back. The bag had apparently been filled with lard, judging by the way it felt, and light smoke was rising from it. Frustrated by the idea that someone would have attacked him with a bag of garbage, he pushed himself up further, allowing the bag to roll off.
The fact that the bag stood up and walked away nearly made Raozya go grayscale with fear. Whoa, wait, is that a Pokémon?
Raozya pulled his Pokédex from a painful indentation on his hip and aimed it at the creature that had collided with him. The device spoke with a tinny, robotic tone, "Makuhita, the Gutsy Punching Bag Pokémon. Not unlike a zombie, Makuhita always gets back on its feet no matter how many times it's knocked over. This is due to how its brain is incapable of realizing when enough is enough. 90% of its body mass consists of lard and cholesterol."
A curious brow crept up Raozya's dirt-encrusted forehead. "Weird. Reminds me of Snorlax, or Tierno."
The latter name brought back some painful memories and a wince. It had been two days since he had met the rotund teenager, and their overnight gaming party had left Raozya with a newfound lack of faith in strangers. Tierno's psychotic smile and giggling, as well as his disturbingly extreme obsession with dancing, had given Raozya more than enough reason to avoid him for the remainder of his days.
"HEYYY! HEYYY! Sorry!"
Raozya rolled himself off of his stomach and sat up to investigate the source of the voice. A kid was running toward him, waving his arms and displaying a concerned expression. He was wearing a baseball cap, jacket, and shoulder-perched Pikachu — these items spurred Raozya's memory. If this was the same kid from nearly a week ago, he knew he needed to be prepared for chaos.
Straightening himself back up to his five-foot-six stature, Raozya dusted himself off and shook the grass and dirt from his red ponytail. Being a Zoroark disguised as a human, this was more of a feat than the average Joe would have expected since his visible ponytail was only a small fraction of the true size of his mane. As a result, grass and dirt appeared to flutter from thin air.
The kid came to a stop in front of Raozya, panting and puffing from his frantic sprint. "Hey, I hope you're not hurt. I'm Ash, from Pallet Town. I was in a battle, and Pikachu here sent that Makuhita flying."
"Pika!" squealed the cheerful electric Pokémon.
Raozya had no idea where Pallet Town was, but he thought he had heard of it before. It had probably been on the news, perhaps as the site of a natural disaster or a nuclear meltdown; he couldn't remember. That just went to show how important it was to him.
Ash extended a hand in greeting, which Raozya reluctantly accepted with a handshake. He made sure to use his illusory skills to give Ash the physical sensation of shaking a human hand instead of three claws and a furry palm.
Raozya forced a smile. "Not a problem. These things happen."
Ash smiled and kept his grip firm, preventing the now-surprised Raozya from pulling away. "So, you doing some training around here?"
Why won't he let go? "Eh, yeah, here and there."
Struggling didn't help. Ash's grip was a vice. "That's cool! Since we're buddies now, can I have some money? I'm kinda short right now, and Pikachu ran out of ketchup."
Pikachu eyes were now locked with Raozya's, doe-like and bleary. A pouty lower lip finished out the doleful ensemble.
Raozya's heart plummeted into his shoes. Was this kid for real? In the event that this wasn't a joke, Raozya's mind raced to come up with an excuse that seemed at least somewhat plausible. "Oh, uh, nope, sorry. Spent it all on...stocks. Pocket's empty." Empty for you, anyway. UNHAND ME, DIRTY CHILD.
Ash immediately released his grip, his face painted with the unmistakable hue of disappointment. "Aww, okay. Well, we oughta be going now! See ya!"
Raozya gave a passionless wave as Ash made his way across the field in search of another Trainer to battle. No more than five seconds passed before Team Rocket erupted from the ground only a few feet away from Ash. They were inside a giant robot that resembled an old-style deep-diving suit, but it was hunchbacked and had a drill in place of its right hand. Its oversized, spherical head featured several glowing green eyes, giving the bulky robot a more menacing appearance than what was usual for Team Rocket.
The thieving trio recited their team motto — wearily overused in Raozya's opinion — and began their pursuit, prompting Ash to make a run for it while riding his Pikachu like a Rapidash.
A Furfrou balancing on a beach ball and juggling a dozen Joltik would have made more sense than this. Just as it was with any unexplainable mystery, Raozya casually shrugged it off. All he knew was that Ash probably had it coming. His mouth curled into a tiny smile. Heh heh, stocks.
He headed over to a tree within proximity to the one that Napalm and Joas were studying under, and took a seat atop a large, exposed root. After sliding his backpack off his shoulders and into his lap, he excavated a small, colorful jar that was filled with pickled peppers.
The sight of the little green delicacies summoned a growl from within his stomach — a gastric trumpet call of culinary anticipation. While he usually preferred to avoid spicy food, the jar's text promised a very mild experience that was far more sour than spicy. That had been enough to spur his curiosity and the associated purchase.
Curiosity, he soon learned, could be a double-edged sword. The first problem he noticed was that the twist-off lid was missing a warning label, namely a warning that the user's primary hobby should be bodybuilding. He initially believed that he would need a wrench or some other sort of industrial-grade leverage to force the lid off, but it finally succumbed to his strained twisting and nearly threw him from his seat.
The second and arguably more pertinent problem was how the first bite tasted nothing like the label had said. 'Sour' and 'fire' were not the same flavor, and he could taste nothing but the latter.
Raozya's oversized Drowning Flood Master Lemonade bottle was reduced to half of its volume before the inferno on his tongue was extinguished. It took a little longer for him to catch his breath and relax his horror-widened eyes. I wonder how many people have sued them for false advertising. At least I know Napalm will love these.
His backpack received the jar once more before being slipped back on. He abandoned his seat for a stretch, popping his back and sighing. Did life really need to be so cruel?
"HEY, YOU!"
Perhaps it did. An air horn would have been easier on Raozya's nerves. His eyes automatically focused on another child who was standing a mere three feet away, occupying a spot that had been completely vacant of human life nary a moment earlier. Raozya had to force his teeth to stop clenching before he could talk. "Hi."
Pulsing veins on the kid's neck led up to a face that far exceeded the intensity of the average drill sergeant. Jittery from what had most likely been the consumption of untold quantities of sugar and caffeine, the kid pointed a dramatic finger at his new target. "I, THE GREAT STEVE, CHALLENGE YOUUUUU TO A PO-KAY-MAWN MATCH! PREPARE TO TASTE UTTER, CRUSHING DEFEAT, NOOB!"
It must have been a full moon, or maybe a virus was going around. Maybe Team Flare had released hallucinogens into the air in preparation for an attack. All of these options raced through Raozya's head as he attempted to make sense of the situation.
I would gladly take Tierno over this, buuut I might as well have some fun. Raozya pushed his doubts aside, relaxed his muscles, and shot the kid a challenging look. "I think the only noob here is you, Stephanie. I hope you brought extra diapers, because you will be needing them." Take that.
A light tremor pulsed through the ground and traveled straight into the apprehension centers of Raozya's brain. This caught the attention of Napalm and Joas, drawing their gaze over to what was likely going to become a cratered battlefield.
Steve's face twisted into what was perhaps the most intense expression of rage that Raozya had ever witnessed. The latter lamented the fact that Poké Balls were incapable of capturing humans; he would have loved to have this little bundle of anger on his battle roster. He still had much research to do on this, but his training took precedence and thus occupied nearly all of his time. He wanted his first Gym Badge sooner than later.
"Youuu...YOUUUU...I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER BIG SUFFERINGS!" Steve snatched a Poké Ball from his belt and chucked it ahead. "SABLEYE, GRANT MY WISH!"
The Ball hit the ground hard enough to kick dirt into the air and leave a small pit. Energy lanced out and arced to the ground, materializing Sableye uncomfortably close to Raozya's feet and prompting the Zoroark to step back.
The little dark gremlin creature directed its gemstone eyes up at Raozya with all the innocence of a starving Feraligatr. It flicked its tongue around with disturbing menace, granting visual company to a nightmarish growl. This incited a laugh from its Trainer, which came out more as an abbreviated scream than a declaration of amusement. "BEHOLD, THE AWESOME POWER OF THE DARKNESS POKÉMON! TREMBLE!"
Although the Sableye was indeed unsettling, Raozya found Steve's flagrant madness to be much more jarring than this little squirt. In fact, he was pretty sure he had encountered and defeated more intimidating Pokémon over the past few days. "That's cute."
With an expression that was deliberately imbued with boredom, he gave his chosen Poké Ball a gentle toss. "Come meet your new chew toy, Screampuff."
A pop and a flash revealed his pick: a smiling, giggling Swirlix. Appearing to be a living wad of cotton candy, it bobbed and wobbled on two little feet that were barely visible amongst the copious fluff. Having been caught only a day prior, Raozya had quickly learned from Joas' sarcasm-laced suggestions that this creature had a type advantage against Dark-types. If Raozya had his way, he would be making short work of his opponent's little cave-dwelling abomination.
A maniacal laugh exploded from Steve's toothy mouth — unsurprising to Raozya. "A SWIRLIX?! TALK ABOUT CUTE! IS THIS A SICK JOKE OR WHAT?!"
Screampuff squeaked its species name and bounced a few times in gleeful anticipation of its upcoming battle. An untrained eye would falsely judge the small Pokémon as being one of negligible danger. Such eyes, however, belonged to fools.
"The only joke is your suicidal overconfidence, Samantha." Raozya made sure his corresponding smirk was as smug as possible. He wanted to see if Steve knew Self-Destruct. "Let's see if your Sableye can do more than impersonate hard rock musicians."
A rivulet of saliva traveled down the side of Joas' non-expressive mouth as he watched from the sidelines. He had attained a newfound admiration for Raozya due to the latter's merciless trolling of his dangerously unstable foe. As this was sure to become a battle to remember, Joas had begun recording the event with his smartphone shortly after the first shots had been fired. He knew that once it was all over, this cinematic gem would be getting a workout on his social networks.
Napalm, in the meantime, had closed his speech book and was now standing on his feet in preparation for Raozya's call, should the need arise. While he didn't have a type advantage or disadvantage against the Sableye, he was more than willing to give it the fight of its life.
Volcanoes of homicidal fury erupted in Steve's eyes. He gritted his teeth hard enough to be audible and bellowed an inhuman roar before pointing even more dramatically at his now-blood enemy. His broken voice indicated that Raozya had scored a Super-Effective hit on his ego. "SABLEYE! USE ZEN HEADBUTT!"
Sableye was showered with its Trainer's scream-propelled spittle a moment before it took off. It moved with frightening speed, charging across the battlefield with a profound blood lust. Steve's anger served as fuel for Sableye's anger — the intrinsic connection between Trainer and Pokémon facilitated this like an invisible data cable. Steve wanted victory, and Sableye wanted it even more.
This was no different than a carnival for Screampuff. The fluffy creature watched with cheerful expectancy as an embodiment of death sped toward it, as though Sableye was no more threatening than an incoming bumper car. Treating it as such, Screampuff casually hopped to the side at Raozya's behest and allowed Sableye to overshoot, unable to recover due to its tremendous speed. It was now on a collision course with a tree.
Raozya could have sworn he had just seen plumes of hot smoke explode from Steve's ears. Scowling bitterly, the manic child clenched his fists and pumped them down as though he was milking a giant cow. "USE THE TREE AS A RAMP AND LEAP BACK, THEN USE FURY SWIPES!"
Sableye had no complaint about the order. It raced up the side of the tree and leaped off the top portion of the trunk, soaring back overhead. With the Swirlix in its sight, it fanned its arms out and extended its claws, beginning its descent toward its target and grinning with sharp teeth.
Screampuff's doe eyes, as well as the phone of an excessively pleased Joas, tracked the ballistic enemy as it flew across the sky. Raozya's "Fairy Wind!" command reached Screampuff's ears mere moments before Sableye's claws could make impact.
The sound of what could have been compared to a roaring gale filled the air in an instant. Sableye's confidence disappeared when it found itself being buffeted by a tornado-force blast of pink and sweet. The odor...it had such a vile intensity to the dark creature's nostrils that its face contorted in fear and disgust.
Steve watched in horror as his Pokémon fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth and twitching sporadically. His face was equally as disturbed as his Sableye's. "A SUPER-EFFECTIVE CRITICAL?! IMPOSSIBRU!"
"It's far from impossible;" gloated the smiling Raozya, "this is what happens when you don't train your Pokémon prope—"
"SHUT UP!" The tearful Steve called Sableye back into its Poké Ball and plucked another from his belt. He held it in his palm and stared at it with a dark, insane grin. His mind had been broken. "THIS WILL BE THE DETERMINING FACTOR IN THIS BATTLE! YOU HAVE YET TO SEE MY TRUE POTENTIAL!"
Steve's constant tittering tempted Raozya to grab his stun gun. He had known that the kid was in dire need of therapy, but this was making him fear for his life. He decided to offer a consolation in a weak attempt to ease the situation, "Okay, sure. I'm...scared."
"BE VERY SCARED!" Steve chucked his next Ball in the same manner as the previous, but twice as hard. "IT IS TIME TO SHOW YOUR TRUE COLORS, SMEARGLE!"
Smeargle materialized at the bottom of the new impact crater. The white, beagle-like Pokémon peeked over the edge of the crater and stared with innocent wonder at Screampuff, inciting the latter to yip and bounce with joy.
Another dramatic, trembling finger was pointed squarely at Raozya. "SMEARGLE USE FLAMETHROWER NOWWWW!"
Flames of white-hot intensity exploded from Smeargle's mouth. Unable to react fast enough, Screampuff disappeared in the fiery onslaught. Its frantic shrieks told Raozya it was still present, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. Even from a distance of a dozen feet, the air near the jet of fire felt like a furnace.
When the attack had finished, Screampuff could have easily been mistaken for a lump of charcoal with two dinner plate-sized eyes. It coughed out a plume of smoke and uttered a weak yip.
Raozya's eyebrows had taken residence in his hairline. Wasn't Smeargle a Normal-type? How could it have known Flamethrower?
Napalm's wagging tail and clenched teeth and fists spoke silent volumes that he had been set on edge by the turn of events. A stellar fire burned within his body. He was itching to put Steve in his place and avenge his beleaguered comrade.
The Smeargle's capability of making an unexpected move was not news to Joas. He knew enough about these creatures to know that it used Sketch, which allowed it to permanently copy the last move used by its last opponent. He figured it had fought a Growlithe or some other Fire-type in a previous battle.
Raozya's brain wouldn't let him speak a command in time for Screampuff to avoid another Flamethrower assault. Acting on impulse, he held out the appropriate Poké Ball and called the roasted creature back; he couldn't have it being burnt to the point of needing long-term intensive medical care. The Swirlix dematerialized as an ashen streak of energy and entered its Ball, releasing a puff of smoke in the process.
More disturbing than Screampuff's crispy fate was Steve's explosive and slobbery reaction of amusement, which made Raozya jerk in surprise. "BWAHAHAHAHAA! YOU HAVE TASTED ONLY A SMALL PART OF MY VENGEANCE, AND THE FLAVOR WAS INDEED BITTER TO YOUR INFERIOR TONGUE. NOW SEND OUT YOUR NEXT PO-KAAAAY-MAWN FOR ME TO SLAUGHTER!"
A simple twitch of Raozya's eyelid heralded his decision. The battle needed to be stuffed into the grave of obscurity as soon as possible, right alongside Steve's ego trip.
Raozya plucked the next Poké Ball from his belt and gave it a gentle toss, his face showing no emotion. He didn't want to give Steve any visual clues as to his next strategy. This was going to be a blindside attack.
Going past the lack of expression in his opponent's features, Steve could see something within Raozya's eyes that reduced his sociopathic overconfidence ever so slightly. Could it be that he had provoked a monster? NONSENSE. VICTORY WILL BE MINE.
The Poké Ball produced the standard discharge of energy, materializing an Eevee a few feet away from Steve's Smeargle. This was a comedy act in Steve's eyes, prompting a bout of laughter of such intensity that he was incapable of producing words.
Amid Steve's noisy expression of amusement, Raozya gazed down at his Eevee with a tinge of sadism in his face and voice. "Salvo, go give Smeargle a big ol' hug."
The fluffy creature vanished from Steve's line of sight, traveling at such speed that it could have been mistaken for teleportation. Alarms began to sound within Steve's tattered mess of a mind, but his incessant laughter prevented him from noticing them.
Salvo's position atop Smeargle's head was seen for only a millisecond before it was obscured by a blinding flash. Debris scattered like buckshot from the detonation, peppering the surrounding area with high-speed granules of dirt and shreds of grass.
Steve found himself on the ground moments later with a shell of soil occupying the surface of his astonished face.
The now-unconscious Salvo disappeared as a stream of energy that lanced back into his Ball, which itself was returned to Raozya's belt in short order. With a conceited grin that spelled every letter of victory, Raozya dusted himself off and made his approach to his defeated foe.
Having finally regained his bearings, Steve leaped up from the ground and pointed yet another dramatic finger at the incoming Raozya. "HOW?! EEVEE CANNOT KNOW SELF-DESTRUCT! IMPOSSIBRUUU!"
Raozya stopped five feet away from the jittering child. Steve's broken voice and screeched words served as a shining indicator that Raozya had annihilated his ego. Raozya wasn't sure how to make his expression any more smug than it already was. "I make possible the impossible! Let this be a lesson to you."
The rage present on Steve's face morphed into abject sadness. His soul had not merely been shattered; it had been plowed and sown with the seeds of devastation. He had no ego left; only regret.
Steve's Smeargle returned to the ground moments later, its trip to the stratosphere ending in the bottom of a new crater. Without even looking at it, he held out its Poké Ball and called it back. Through his tears, he mouthed something that was too low for Raozya to hear, but the latter figured it was some sort of expression of grief or disapproval. Or an otherworldly curse.
The mouthing slowly but surely began to produce sound, increasing in volume from a faint whisper to frantic scream-babbling. This was accompanied by a scowl that intensified at the same rate as the volume.
Raozya watched as Steve propelled himself in the opposite direction, scream-crying with such magnitude that Raozya was more than a little concerned he would go on some sort of rampage or join a gang. Then again, if he joins Team Rocket, he'll be even less of a threat.
A tug on the pants drew Raozya's attention down to the ground on his left. Joas was staring up with those dead, unnerving eyes of his while holding up a small notepad. "Such a professional and unparagoned display of impishness is not something I happen upon often. May I have your autograph?"
The experience that Raozya had acquired during his travels with Joas gave a figurative swat to his hand before it could even move. Deep down, he knew the notepad was probably hiding a waiver or a contract for something that he would lament later on. With that in mind, he turned and made his way back to his tree. "Nice try."
Joas stood in place, tracking Raozya for a few seconds before following. "You know me too well. Have we really only known each other for a week?"
A pop emanated from Raozya's neck as he gave it a quick twist. "The week that lasted a year."
"Sounds like a book. Perhaps you should abandon this hedonistic practice of Pokémon Training and become the next J.D. Salinger."
Raozya grimaced. "I'm a more hands-on kind of guy. Less writing; more physical action. It makes me cheerful."
Wreathed in purple energy filaments, Joas rose from the ground and floated alongside Raozya, having abandoned the idea of catching up to the latter's pace. "What about a filling station attendant?"
"Boring, plus I'd feel tempted to talk to everyone — maybe even make fun of their poor choice of vehicle design. Then I'd get fired, and then I'd be back to square one, and it would be all your fault. You're free to feel preemptive guilt."
Joas flatbrowed. "I was making a Catcher in the Rye reference. You were supposed to take the cue and make a reference after I mentioned the filling station."
"Never heard that song before. I guess I'm not as well-traveled as you in the world of music."
If it hadn't been for the fact that Dark-type Pokémon such as Raozya were immune to Psychic attacks, Joas would have flung him to the Moon. You're deaf, but certainly not mute. Uncultured savage.
Raozya, on the other hand, knew Joas was probably referencing a book, but he wanted to score a few points in the game of impishness.