08:00 - October 9th, 2007

Hawley stood over Connor, his spiked crimson hair casting a shadow over his eyes, solid amber in hue as they looked daggers at the trainer on the ground before him. His mouth formed a self-assured smirk, the right side of his mouth arched up. His skin was clear, unstained by stress or hardship, his eyebrows neatly trimmed. His teeth were flawlessly white as they peered through his soft, unchapped lips. His arms were carelessly crossed and his shoulders were relaxed as he stood tall and straight, his lean frame casting a long shadow in the rising autumn sunlight. A shadow that surrounded Connor, suffocating him in its authority and sheer commanding presence.

More than a little unnerved, he slowly came to his feet, repositioning himself to cover Aron as he stood to look up at Hawley in the face. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but feel deterred by the stare Hawley was giving him. The height difference between the two was only four inches, but even in the out and open, the new trainer felt as if he were only two feet tall, gazing up at a world-eating monster before him as its glimmering jewels for eyes stared back. His mere presence was enough to send shivers running down Connor's body, the hairs on his body standing on end.

"H-Hawley," greeted Connor, gulping as he forlornly gazed at the floor, backing away from the pair's game of ocular chicken. The tension in the air grew thick, smothering him as a brief silence ensued.

"Hawley what? Answer my question, ingrate!" demanded his rival in explosive response, his arms crossed, his voice unwavering as his grin shifted into an enraged frown.

"R-right, right, Pokémon, yeah… yeah, that's Aron. Just got him today," replied Connor quietly, squirming to avoid his rival's leer. He cast his mind back to his childhood, back when he was eight or nine, when he used to hang out near Lake Verity. All he wanted was to see the Pokémon out in the wild, get a view of nature, have a place to relax. But not if Hawley and his friends had anything to say about it. They'd berate him, terrorize him with Pokémon, call him names, push him in the water when he was caught unaware. He recalled why they stopped, of course - that mystery Pokémon attacked them. Knocked them right out without ever revealing itself. The Pokémon he'd been dying to find out about, striving for years to meet; perhaps one day, if he was lucky, he'd even become its trainer. But that was beside the point - more importantly, Hawley definitely hadn't forgotten that, either. He'd gone out of his way whenever he had the chance to make Connor's life a living hell, it seemed, and it looked as if today was no different.

Connor felt a coldness on the back of his leg, and turned around, looking down to see Aron hiding in his shadow, avoiding the opposing trainer. The Steel-type's soft blue eyes gazed back up at his trainer, and as their gazes met, Connor felt two things. One was a warmth, a certain fondness in the Pokémon's eyes as he regarded his trainer. The other was something of a plea - he noticed his Pokémon's pupils contract, stubby legs quivering. Aron was scared. Scared of the intruder of this peace standing before him. He didn't want to face him - and, truthfully, neither did Connor. As far back as he could remember, Hawley had always been the bane of Connor's existence. At every opportunity, he'd treated him like dirt, crushed his spirit for no discernible reason, stomped on him and kicked him when he was down. Anything Connor could do, Hawley could do ten times better - they both knew it, and his adversary wasn't afraid to let him know this.

"Hmph." Hawley peered around Connor's leg to get a look at his opponent's Pokémon, scrutinizing Aron with an unimpressed frown on his face. The Pokémon met his gaze and quickly backed down, retreating back into the shadow of his trainer, much to Hawley's amusement as he looked back at Connor with a smirk. "You're calling that a Pokémon? I'm not sure whether I should laugh or cry, to be perfectly honest with you. But of course, why do I - why should I - expect any better from trash like you?"

Connor gritted his teeth and began to fidget with his fingers, clenching his right hand into a fist as his Pokémon glanced back up at him, beginning to tremble all over now. "Well, m-maybe he's not the strongest right now, b-but-"

"Buh, buh, b-but w-what, d-dickweed? By Arceus, you'd think you had a stutter!" called out his rival in mocking response, the sound of harsh, cackling laughter poorly masked in the second half of the sentence.

Connor's fist clenched tighter, knuckles beginning to whiten as he took a deep breath in, pausing to consider his words before he spoke, standing up straighter and looking up at Hawley, staring him in the eyes. "But a Pokémon's fighting ability isn't everything, y'know. Me and Aron, we'll get stronger, trainer and Pokémon alike; and maybe I'll catch some other Pokémon on the way, too! Whatever happens, mark my words - I will become stronger than you! Just you wait until I kick your ass someday - and then we'll see who's smiling."

Hawley listened attentively to this, giving a flat and unimpressed look as Connor went along, without breaking his stare. Except for that last part. The ridiculousness of what he was hearing was too much to not react to, as he recoiled in shock, blinking in sheer disbelief. Connor, defeating him? Connor? Defeating him? It was an insult, a slight on his honor, that such an outlandish thought had even crossed his rival's mind. Quite frankly, such insolence could not go unpunished - it would seem, Hawley realized as a smirk began to blossom, that this worthless pile of human refuse needed to be cut down a level or two. Indeed, Connor's balloon of new-found confidence quickly deflated as Hawley approached him. Like a popped balloon, he stood down, sweat beginning to run across his head as his rival, a wry grin on his face, stepped towards him, before beginning with a chuckle.

"Oh, you'll kick my ass, will you? Hah! At least you seem to have grown a pair of balls, I'll commend you for that. Yet I don't think I've heard anything so… so naive, so moronic, so stupid in my life. Do you want a repeat of the lake incidents? Do you need me to beat you again? When will you get it through your thick skull that you are nothing to me? Wh- what has it been, now; eight years, and you still haven't realized that you are completely and utterly beneath me. How can I put this in Pokémon terms, so that maybe for once you'll understand - people like you are like a... like a Magikarp, helplessly struggling along the waters of life, swimming along and going on with your pathetic excuse of a life with no means for growth. You are, and forever will be, trapped in permanent stagnation, doomed to nothing more than painful mediocrity. I, on the other hand, am a glorious Pidgeot, gliding along in the skies of glory and ascending to heights you could not even comprehend if you tried - and I've yet to even begin to peak. Naturally, like a predator and his prey, it would seem the two of us are bound to meet, and naturally, I outperform you in every way you can imagine, and I always will. You're destined to be beneath me forever, and nothing you can ever do will ever change that. So when I tell you to grovel at my feet, it would be much easier for you to stop splashing at my feet, and it saves me the effort of beating you dead, and therefore, when I tell you to grovel, you will fucking grovel! Am I perfectly clear?!"

Connor was silent in response to this relentless tirade, finding himself leaning back, struggling to avoid falling over his diminutive companion as he began to wave his arms about to remain sturdy. With one eye, he glanced back down at the Pokémon. Despite the clear threat imposed by Hawley, Aron was standing tall. He was no longer quivering. He seemed ready to battle. It had seemed that he'd been roused by Connor's speech about growing stronger together and his seeming defiance to bow down to him. Truth be told, he was caught off-guard by his newfound ability to go against Hawley, to defy him and to not feel threatened by his constant rants. Could it be, he thought, that he was more confident because he knew he had a Pokémon on his side? But that was unreasonable - it had only been an hour since they'd first met… yet, try as he might, he couldn't think of anything else it could have been. As cliché as it sounded, Connor reckoned that it was having someone who relied on him, a newly-met friend, that was giving him this sense of confidence. No matter how hard he was made to squirm, no matter how much Hawley loomed over him, he wouldn't back down. After all, he seriously doubted his rival could say the same about having someone to care about, that self-centered asshole?

"Alright. If you're not going to show me any respect, then I suppose I'll have to kick you and your pile of rocks' asses," Hawley declared, no remorse in his voice as he fumbled in his pocket, grabbing a Pokéball of his own as he turned and took a few paces back. He swiveled around on one leg before standing tall, legs wide and shoulders relaxed, staring him in the eyes. Authority emanated from him, the brutality and swagger in his body language giving the impression of complete and impenetrable superiority over his foe.

"Wh- wait, no-"

"Oh, it's too late to back down now, you worthless sack of shit. Croagunk, go!"

Putting an arm out as he hurled the ball overarm, Hawley sent out his first Pokémon. The Pokéball hit the ground with a soft thud, bouncing once before opening to release a flow of brilliant blue light. The light materialized into a frog-like Pokémon, standing about a foot taller than Aron and staring down at him, passive and unaffected. Its red sacs were like bubbles of gum as they inflated and deflated, its mouth an indifferent smile as it prepared to attack.

This was bad. This was very bad. Panic began to set in, slowly eroding Connor's spirit, as he took a step back, sending Aron forth. Alright, Connor, focus - Croagunk. Bands high up - female; quieter than males - perhaps less aggressive? Poison-type, fighting-type - Aron resists poison-type moves completely, but fighting-type? Entirely different story. Equally proficient in physical and special attacks. Mostly only naturally learns physical moves at the early stages of life, but… but… dammit! Think! Was there a-

"Mud-Slap!" called out Hawley, a brutal enthusiasm accompanying his voice. With a nod and a guttural croak, Croagunk took a couple of lumbering steps towards Aron before effortlessly shooting her hands into the Earth with deceptive speed.

"Gah- uh, counter that with a Headbutt, Aron!" blurted out Connor, uncertainty in his voice as he hoped Aron knew what Headbutt was.

Indeed, Connor's hunch proved correct; the Pokémon let out a quiet yet determined 'ar!' as he charged at Croagunk, eyelids narrowed, pupils determined, legs carrying him forward with all the speed and urgency they could handle. Croagunk didn't seem fazed by this in the slightest. But this didn't deter him. Hawley had threatened him, threatened his trainer, the human who seemed determined to protect him. So what if they'd only met a very short time ago? He could tell that his goals were noble, that he had his best interests at heart, that he was going to protect him and look after him - and besides, with the speed at which he ordered that attack, he clearly had everything planned out. Now less than a foot away from the Croagunk, Aron reared his head back and leaped at the Poison-type before him.

Before he had the chance to made contact, his opponent swiftly removed her hands from the ground, scooping up an armful of debris and hurling it at Aron. A wave of mud and earth smashed into his head and body, as he let out a pained screech, scoops of dirt getting into his eyes. The attack threw him off balance and sent him hurtling backward in the air. It was only mud, and yet it felt like something was prying Aron apart as large particles of dirt got in between the steel and rock of his torso.

"And beat it whilst it's down! Wake-Up Slap!" he continued in a triumphant roar, with more than a hint of ruthlessness and harshness present in his voice.

"SKREEEE!" called out Croagunk as she surged forward, hurling her left arm back as she lunged towards the airborne Steel-type. With the speed of a bullet, she brought that arm forward, the backside of her left hand smashing into Aron's torso and sending him flying further backward, utterly helpless and unable to harden himself in time for the attack. The poor thing was barely able to move after it slammed into the ground with a heavy crash, heaving to flip itself over and hide his badly bruised torso, purple from the Croagunk's attacks.

No, no, no! Of course Croagunk learns how to use Mud-Slap when young! Dammit, I should know this! Wake-Up Slap, too - inherited moves! Dammit! There's no way you'll be able to keep up with him if I keep making these brain-dead mistakes - it's taken him two attacks, and Aron's already on the verge of passing out! You utter moron! You absolute cretin! You're a poor excuse for a trainer!

"What was that about kicking my ass earlier, eh?" called out Hawley, smugness oozing from every pore as he gazed menacingly at his adversary, his Croagunk slowly marching towards her wounded enemy, an air of calmness surrounding her as she prepared to finish him off.

Connor wasn't willing to give up, though. He was still willing to fight, and it seemed as though the same was true for his partner. A rebellious smile lit up his face for a split second as he had a thought - Aron, too, was capable of Mud-Slap in the early stages of his life - and whilst it was super-effective on Steel-types and Rock-types, it was also super-effective on Poison-types, too. His eyes shot to Aron, fixing on his Pokémon. "Aron, we can still win this! Mud-Slap, as fast as you can!"

A pained, less enthusiastic nod was Aron's reply as he grunted under his breath, urgently digging his legs into the ground as he launched uprooted soil and dirt at Croagunk's skin, burning like acid as it sunk into her poisonous sacs. This caused her to writhe in pain, clutching at her face and letting out an audible screech of discomfort. Her relaxed look at the Aron turned into one of fury, as her brow furrowed and her expression became a vengeful squint. Hawley became visibly annoyed as a result of this attack, his voice going hoarse with rage as he ordered his next attack.

"How dare you even think that such worthless scum as yourself can even try and defeat my beautiful Pokémon?! Croagunk, show them what we do to garbage like your opponent!"

Roaring with anger, Croagunk took a moment to compose herself as she launched from one leg at Aron, flattening her hands and crossing her arms whilst she propelled through the air. With the fury of a storm, she chopped at Aron, her hands hitting like bricks on her foe's head. The force of the impact was enough to annihilate Aron's defenses, crashing against the steel of his head. The impact was enough to shatter a massive amount of capillaries, and in an instant, it felt as if a hammer was pounding against both his torso and his head, agony pulsating around his entire body, much to Connor's visible shock and despair.

"Hah! Beat me?! You couldn't even beat a drum, you worthless piece of trash! What makes trash like you think you could possibly stand up to someone as powerful as me? The weak must fear the strong, Connor, my boy! That's just the way the world works!"

Connor shot his head down to the ground, shame and disgust enveloping him. With a defeated sigh, he picked up his Pokéball and clicked the button on it. There was no use in persisting - it was clear Hawley would crush him if he tried to fight back, and there was no knowing what he'd do to Aron. He couldn't let his Pokémon get hurt badly so early in his journey - what sort of trainer would gamble their Pokémon's well-being for the chance to settle an old rivalry? The guilt of letting Aron down, the weight of defeat pulled him down like chains on the ground, but for now, he just had to swallow his dignity and take this loss. "Aron… return. We'll work on it, partner."

The heavily bruised Pokémon was enveloped in light as he returned to the safety of his ball, Connor tucking it away from the world and into his pocket as Hawley let out a dry chuckle, doing the same with his Pokémon. "Excellent work, Croagunk," he muttered, not taking his eyes off his defeated foe, as the ball opened, the Poison-type returning to it. "That'll show 'em who's boss."

With both Pokémon off the field, he marched towards Connor, sharply grabbing at his collar with both hands and lifting him up despite his sharp recoil. The air was ripped from his lungs as he was dragged up to face his aggressor at eye level, not daring to fight back as he felt the sanctity of his soul penetrated by that horrible glare of dominance, those pupils dilated like a frenzied shark, and that self-assured smirk. "So, am I clear now?"

"Grk- y, yes," choked Connor, an air of complete desolation falling over him.

"Yes what?" replied Hawley, stern and unblinking, his tone harsh like that of a drill sergeant's.

"Y-yes, Hawley."

"Will you try and beat me? Will you try and kick my ass?"

"No, Hawley."

"And propose you were that much of a damned idiot to do so - would you succeed?"

"...No, Hawley."

With that, he practically flung his opponent back onto the ground, leaving him in a pile of crumpled limbs and broken dreams on the soiled grass below as he marched off.

"Good. Now, stay out of my way, trash. Know your place in future," he called back, running his hair back with his hands as he began to whistle a venomous tune.

About an hour had passed, and yet the self-loathing persisted.

Connor's triumphant, proud stride towards Sandgem had quickly shifted into a defeated, slow trudge; the adventure he had set out to enjoy had turned into a shameful chore, the feeling of defeat weighing a tonne as his feet shuffled down Route 202. Of course, he couldn't throw his toys in the pram and give up after two hours of being a trainer - even by his standards, that was beyond laughable. It was what Hawley would want, too; any failure of his would please that cocky asswipe. As much as it sucked, Connor knew he had to - as his father would say - "build a bridge and get over it." But that didn't make it suck any less. If anything, the comfort of knowing he had a way out would have been a mood lightener in this situation. At least that way, Aron wouldn't have a trainer who let it get hurt badly in some ill-fated attempt to settle a score, a trainer that was so utterly hopeless when it came to people, a trainer who even thought about giving up after losing one battle.

But Connor wasn't about to surrender just yet. No, he'd prove his parents wrong, prove Hawley wrong, prove the world wrong, and he'd be the trainer he dreamt he could be, the one Aron deserved. So what if that asshole was a trainer too? With enough hard work, determination, and practice, any obstacle could be overcome - sure, that was easier said than done, but nothing was impossible.

He knew that these were empty platitudes, of course, but right now, they were all he had. All he could do now was lift himself up, move on and keep repeating them in the outlandish hope that perhaps one day, they were more than just words.

As he trundled along his path, riddled with far too much guilt to check on Aron, he was focused on clenching his teeth; his breathing was deep, each breath in slow and each breath out heavy. Anything to help cope with this awful feeling, so long as it wasn't crying. Tears were a sign of weakness, and whatever he did, no matter how hard things got, crying was absolutely not an option. What would Hawley do if he saw his sixteen-year-old rival blubbering like a baby? He had to suck it up and keep going.

Move on, Connor. Just move on.

He continued to trudge along down the road, despondent as he trudged over a ledge as he continued in much the same line of thought. As he approached Sandgem, he decided it would be more appropriate to head to the Pokémon Center first - after all, he had to be sure Aron was alright. What was more, it gave him a chance to smooth things over with his Pokémon before he headed out to the professor's lab, in case the battle against Croagunk had left a bad taste in the poor guy's mouth; to add to both of those, what sort of impression would it make on the professor if he turned up with a badly bruised Pokémon asking for a certificate? These thoughts still whirred through his mind, wracking his brain as his shoes made their first steps onto the grass of the seaside town.

The freshness of the beach air, whilst coming from a route over, did a pretty good job of lifting the crestfallen trainer's spirits. Whilst there was, admittedly, sparse amounts of sand for the self-proclaimed "Town of Sand," the scenery was still rather quaint; the air complimented this perfectly, clearing his mind as he took a few deep breaths in and out. It felt as though the great burden weighing him down had gone. Of course, it would have been irresponsible to take in the sights for too long - where was the sense in this lingering around when Aron was in the state that he was? No, the Pokémon Center had to come first, followed by a trip to the Professor's lab, then he could relax. A sense of solemn duty overwhelmed him as he marched towards the Center, his hand firmly on his Pokéball as the door whirred open.

"Hi, welcome to the Sandgem Pokémon Center!" chimed the nurse as this young man approached her, beaming widely and raising a waving hand. "How may we help you today, young man?"

What if she sees the state he's in and refuses me service? What if she thinks I beat him? I can't disprove her - and what if she refuses me service because I don't have a license? What if she confiscates him? This is bad - but I can't run out now! What if she thinks I'm some sort of terrorist?! Oh, you've REALLY gotten yourself into a sticky situation now!

He tried desperately to mask the dread he was feeling, a lump in his throat growing as the nurse loomed over him from the other end of the room.

Agh! Snap out of it, Connor, you're overthinking this! All I have to do is take a deep breath, compose yourself, calmly let her know that my Pokémon needs healing, go get your license, come back and I'll be alright.

With that, a fake smile spread across his face. Maybe, just maybe, that'd do it?

"Um… young man, are you alright?" enquired the deeply concerned nurse, getting a closer look at Connor as he shuffled closer. "You're sweating. Is there something I can help you with?"

Why.

His mind went into a frenzy and it showed, much to the increasing disquiet of the worried nurse. Silence as Connor approached the nurse's desk, and silence when he stopped moving, turning towards the nurse. It was as if the word "panic" was etched on his face as he strained to think of a way to phrase his problem, failing with each attempt. The nurse could only tilt her head, struggling to guess what was wrong, as silence still saturated the air.

"Are you a new trainer?" finally asked the nurse, warmly smiling at him in an attempt to get to the bottom of the problem.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I am," stuttered Connor in reply. "How- how could you tell?"

A kind chuckle. "We get them all the time, often just after they face their first loss. They usually come in with expressions just like that, but I've got to admit, you might just be the most nervous one I've ever seen. Please don't fret so much, though. I'll do everything I can to help you. Would you mind telling me your problem, then?"

"I… I got my Aron hurt, because there was this one trainer, who I've known since I was a kid - right - and he made me fight him, because I think he hates me, and I didn't want to, but I did, and he had a Croagunk, and, uh, it got really mad that I-"

"Slow down. Take a deep breath," reassured the nurse, gesturing for him to stop. "You got your Aron hurt because someone made you fight him?"

Connor nodded.

"And you couldn't say no?"

"I guess not? He probably would've killed me if I tried, knowing him, I suppose. I didn't trust him to not attack me with his Pokémon, b-but… I shouldn't have brought mine into it," he said, with a little more confidence than before.

"I see. What's your name, young man?"

Not good! What if she thinks you're lying? What if she thinks you hurt Aron?!

As she waited for a response, the nurse's eyes widened and she awkwardly spurted something out. "Oh - don't worry, I'm not going to get you in trouble or anything! I'm asking so I know who to call when I'm done healing your Pokémon, that's all."

"Oh, haha... uh, my name's Connor, ma'am," he sheepishly laughed.

"Okay, Connor, could you please pass me your Pokéball so I can heal Aron?"

"Huh? Oh, of course, yeah."

Connor, having had a hand on the ball the whole time, still somehow fumbled the ball as he pulled it out from his belt in one swift movement. It slipped from a sweaty palm and over the nurse's desk, much to his horror. "Oh, nurse, I'm sor-"

"Don't worry about it, honestly!" chuckled the nurse. "Your Pokémon is still in the ball. Now, would you mind waiting in the Center whilst we heal your Aron? It should only take a couple of minutes - after all, I doubt a first battle can do that much damage to a Pokémon, so I wouldn't worry too much."

He nodded, giving a thumbs up as he retreated to a seat, spending the next several minutes contemplating the journey that lay ahead of him. It had dawned on him that having roughly the same social skills as a chair was far from the best of plans. Perhaps working on that was a bigger priority than training he first thought. Sure, sticking to what he was good at wasn't a bad idea, either (although using the word "good" to describe his skills was probably a stretch considering the beatdown he had just received), but something had to give - if the first hours of his adventure had been anything to go by, meeting other people was an inevitability, and an inevitability he feared more than most Pokémon. I mean, being afraid of a Pokémon Center nurse? Come on, Connor! You had no problems getting friendly with a creature made of steel and rock that can eat through steel - what gives?!

It only took ten minutes for the waiting to finish, but it felt like much longer before the nurse called out to Connor, gesturing him over to the desk.

"So, uh… is he okay?" asked Connor, his voice flavored with concern. "I really had no idea he'd get hurt so bad, and I know I'm repeating myself, bu-"

"Oh, relax, relax, he's fine. Out of curiosity, though… how long was that battle you had with that other trainer and their Croagunk?" inquired the nurse as she handed the Pokéball back. Her lack of a smile worried Connor.

"They landed three attacks before I called Aron back. Why? What happened? He is alright, isn't he?" he responded, starting to panic.

"I have to say, that's quite a lot of damage for three turns. And you recalled Aron before the fight could go on, did you?"

"I did - look, please just-"

"It's a good thing that you did, then, otherwise your little buddy might've been out of commission for a while. But please, stop fretting, he's absolutely fine! How long have you been traveling with Aron, Connor?"

"About two hours, but the fight happened in the first hour."

"Wait, really? That's… that's genuinely impressive that you already feel so strongly about your Pokémon, then," chirped the nurse, warmly smiling. "I'm also warranting a guess that the Croagunk and its trainer had significantly more than an hour of training. So please don't beat yourself up about it, guy. This seems a lot more like bad luck on your end."

"I… I mean, I'm flattered you think that, but… I shouldn't have let myself get involved in the first place," Connor sighed, abject as his head hung low. "Like, obviously I care about my Pokémon, but a good trainer wouldn't have let himself get involved. I messed up badly."

"Well, nobody can become a good trainer after an hour, Connor - and you did a good job, recalling him before serious damage could have been done. Being a Pokémon trainer is a learning curve, and anyone can do it if they're determined enough. Besides, you said yourself that you don't think you had a choice to get involved, so why blame yourself? My advice to you would be to stop being so hard on yourself, young man. Losing is hardly the end of the world."

He carefully considered these words. Whilst the nurse was right, it still didn't justify putting his Pokémon in danger like he did - however, that was beside the point. He had promised himself that he'd move on, and so far, he was doing a pretty poor job of that. With a half-smile, he looked at the nurse and nodded, faint determination visible on his face. "Alright. Yeah. I'll bear that in mind. Thanks."

"Anytime!"

On that note, he took a seat at one of the tables in the Center. One of the perks of starting on a Tuesday was that most people were at work or school; as such, Pokémon Centers would often be quite empty, as they were now. Indeed, aside from the people that worked there, the only other person in the Center was a trainer with an… interesting fashion sense, who seemed to be trying to gain the trust of his Gible (and failing). Connor couldn't help but wonder what someone with a Gible was doing in Sandgem - or any Dragon-type, for that matter. Not wishing to intrude, he pulled out the Pokéball and released Aron onto the table.

"Hey, Aron," he uttered quietly, radiating a soft smile - one that he couldn't help feel that came off as brittle and weak, and caused Aron to flinch slightly, shoot a somewhat uncomfortable glance to the side. His trainer inhaled through his nose, pausing briefly to thinking of a plan of action. The first time he and Aron had met had ended in Aron getting hurt - so it wasn't out of the question to assume Aron associated him with getting hurt. The solution was obvious, then; he had to prove that he was not, in fact, a threat, and had his best interests at heart.

Connor carefully lay out an open palm in front of the Steel-type, looking him straight in the eyes as he tried to strengthen his smile. "Look," he began slowly, his tone as though he was talking to a small child. "I'm sorry, bud. I didn't mean to get you hurt so bad. It was stupid on my part, and I'm truly sorry. It won't happen again, I promise. You might not be the strongest now, but with a little hard work and training, you can become way stronger than that Croagunk."

As he finished his monologue, the emotion in his voice became more and more evident, the determination in it raw and clear. "I believe in you, little guy, and in future, I'll try to keep you out of stuff like that, and we'll work on getting me smarter and getting you toughened up so that we can kick mean old Hawley's butt together, because one day, there'll be nothing we won't be able to do! Does that sound alright to you, Aron?!"

Aron considered this. Of course, being a Pokémon and lacking any telepathic skills, he understood very little of what his trainer was saying, but the overall message he got was a positive one. His words were warm, his body language friendly, and his delivery full of emotion… Aron couldn't mistake it. It was clear to him that Connor meant no harm; rather, he was just a little green; for now, he was definitely worth placing his trust in. The Steel-type chirped an excited 'ar!' as he approached the outstretched palm, placing a little stub of his own on it.

Connor laughed in relief, reaching into his pocket to pull out another piece of iron. As he did so, he noticed the Gible's trainer was giving him a half-bemused, half-impressed look. Nervously, he raised a hand as if to apologize, before putting the iron on the table before his Pokémon.

This was going to be hard work, Connor thought, but he might just make it yet.

Pokémon Stats - Croagunk

- Trainer: Hawley Wilkins

- Gender: Female

- Type: Fighting/Poison

- Ability: Anticipation

- Level: 12

HP: D (48)

Attack: C (61)

Defence: E (40)

Special Attack: C (61)

Special Defence: E (40)

Speed: D (50)

"Croagunk is a Pokémon known for being laidback and carefree, nonchalant in battle. It doesn't often play fair, and both Croagunk and its evolution have become a staple of rogue-ish characters or villains in movies and TV shows alike. Conversely, though, its relaxed nature makes it easy to care for (so long as physical contact is made with protection) and this has led to it becoming the child-friendly mascot of numerous corporations and, more bizarrely, an internet meme in recent years due to its perpetually smug expression."