DARK PAXTON
by Windryder1
The smell of decaying plant life and rain drifted into the muggy training room through the open windows. Autumn's fingers curled into the final breaths of summer to drag them into the waiting maws of more frequent seasonal storms.
He loved this time of year where all living things writhed in the wind—caught between life and death.
He pushed the strands of black hair away from his dark eyes and took his place for the final time. He held out one fingerless-gloved hand and beckoned the short boy in black and red to enter the battle ground. His opponent did so with trembling knees.
They released their fighters from the confines of the red and white spheres to the heart of the training room floor with the first weapons drawn: his Charmeleon, and the others Sandshrew. Both Pokemon set the stage with glares of intimidation, as did the two Humans—a fight easily won by the taller man.
Fear replaced the pathetic, flaccid attempt at confidence in the others dilated blue eyes.
His mouth cracked in a wicked smile. With this victory, the last match of the day would mark another round of flawless wins.
Eight people from Team Rocket had accepted his challenge for a one-on-one single Pokemon fight, thinking foolishly that their mediocre training skills could outwit his sharp tenacity to prevail at all costs. Sure, a few of them and their Trainers would pay a visit to Nurse Joy, but what were a couple of cuts to the lessons these newbies needed to learn?
Scars were simply wounds with immortal memory.
The wind slammed one of the windows closed, and the fight began.
Commands and power assaults of fire twisted with earth lashed through the room. As he predicted, it was a brief, jolted battle. Screams, cries, shouts, and cheers mired together in a wall of sound.
The boy fell back in pain as the Charmeleon's final attack ripped across his Sandshrew, across the open air, and into his chest. His arm raised in futility to block it. The flame seared the long sleeve shirt to blackened rags and left its teeth imprinted forever on his raw flesh. The violent defeat of his Sandshrew left him weak, sweating, and out of breath.
One of the onlookers quickly recalled the wounded ground type, and helped the crying child limp to Medical.
Once again, another ignorant Trainer let themselves bond too closely with their Pokemon. When would they learn that Pokemon were tools only meant to be used by Team Rocket?
He let them go without a word and worked a kink out of his muscled bare arm. So much for a challenge. None of them had brought their A-game, and all of them cried when his Charmeleon wiped the floor with their weak excuses for Pokemon. He let them cry. He let them baby-rage about fairness, and squawk about crap like taking it slow for the kiddies. Simply choosing to walk through the front door of the Team Rocket headquarters and voluntarily done their uniform put every one of them on the world's dankest shit-list. Those outside this building didn't understand the true nature of Humans over Pokemon.
If these idiots didn't learn to destroy their enemies here and now, everyone who caught sight of the crimson R on their chests would destroy them first. That is how the world truly worked; the weak die, and the strong survive.
That is the world that showed its teeth to him long ago.
The room cleared out quickly, leaving him alone in the storm's humidity. He removed his shirt to toss it onto the bench and stretched with his back to the door. "I didn't think something like this would interest you," he turned slowly, eying the business suit shadowing the doorway, "boss."
Giovanni strode into the room with immediate charisma even the fighter respected. "I'd say to go easy on the new recruits, Paxton, but what would be the point."
Paxton folded his arms across his chest. "Who says I didn't? They're weak. Please tell me you're here because you have something worth my skill and time."
"Oh yes. As a matter of fact, I do." Giovanni locked eyes with the youth with the presence of a Persian about to devour its screeching, writhing meal. "And trust me; it'll bring Harmony to that restless soul of yours."
The same insidious smile curled the younger man's lips. At last, he would have his revenge.
At last Professor Willow would pay.
*end*