A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
TRODAIRE
"Okay guys, I called you in early for a reason." Trodaire said, gathering the team together in front of the boxing ring in the center of the Fight Club. "We're going to be getting done with work early today, because I want to devote a good section of the day to watching film for the three fighters Steven picked. Therefore, I figured it would be smart to get the actual exercise out of the way first." He turned to Excadrill. "I've got to be perfectly honest, little guy, you are tiny. Tiny. If we were to send you in against either Haxorus or even Dragonite, they might be able to stomp you six feet into the ground."
Excadrill shrugged. Trodaire had a point. But before he could get too down on himself, Trodaire grinned.
"But that was never the point, was it pipsqueak? If we were plotting to throw you into a regular slug-it-out match you'd get buried. But I want you to do something completely different. You can't hit nearly as hard as either Armaldo or Aggron, but you can throw shots far, far quicker than either of them. Your only hope is to use quickness, and you're in luck: a Salamence is one of the slower Dragons when it is on the ground. Make no mistake though: it could knock you out in one solid hit. So we're not gonna give it that opportunity, are we?" He asked. Excadrill nodded, and clapped its paws together.
"What do you have in mind?" Steven asked. Trodaire smiled.
"I want him to be able to hold on for dear life. Grab onto the back of that sunavagun and throw punches for all he's got!" He whistled, and Bettie's Conkeldurr sauntered into view. It was carrying what looked like a battering ram, with silver hook sticking out from the ends. It set the wooden plank down, and then unhooked several ropes that were hanging from the ceiling. After tying the rope to the plank, Conkeldurr lifted the wood so that it was about three feet suspended above the boxing ring. Trodaire motioned to Excadrill. "Get on!" He barked.
Excadrill nodded. It scampered to the top of the wooden plank, and straddled it like it was riding a Rapidash. Trodaire pointed to the four corners of the plank.
"Those ropes are holding that baby in place, little guy. As you can see, there's plenty left over for us to do this." He grabbed some runoff rope from a corner, and yanked it down. The wooden plank lurched violently in that direction, and Excadrill gave a cry of shock as it tried to maintain balance without falling off. Trodaire laughed. "You're getting it, Drill! You gotta stay on that thing for as long as you can, because this is what it's gonna be like holding onto the back of an enraged, in-flight Salamence!" He began to shake one of the ropes, and then gestured for Steven to grab another. As the two of them began to make the suspended wooden plank lurch violently back and forth in spastic directions, Trodaire pointed for Cynthia to grab another corner, and then finally had Aggron grab the last corner. As the quartet did their best to make life hell for the poor Excadrill, Paulie watched from the safety of his desk in the office room, sipping a coffee and reading the daily paper.
"Talk about horsin' around…" He grumbled.
Finally, after about two minutes, Excadrill misjudged which direction to lean his body and with a cry fell over and landed hard on his back. Groaning, the little mole-like creature immediately sat back up. Trodaire smirked.
"Way to land on your back instead of your wrists. I don't want you breaking anything while we play with the bucking bronco board of doom." He said. He chuckled a little bit. "This is going to be the hard part: learning to stay on. Once you get that down, it's gonna be easy for you to punch Salamence in the back of the head for like three minutes. Which in case you were wondering, in back-of-the-head time…that's freaking forever."
Everyone got a laugh out of that one.
STEVEN
Trodaire had led the six Pokemon over to a projector screen, and was in the middle of leading them through a film session of studying Lance's most recent battles with the Pokemon he was using that fight. Thus, Steven and Cynthia decided to excuse themselves and go walking through Saffron City. Trodaire agreed, but asked that they remember to show back up before it was time to close up shop for the day.
They had taken a detour away from the more technologically-advanced city center, and had found themselves in a park that bordered the edge of the city and was in the direction of Celadon City. They had found a park bench, and were content to just sit there and watch the trees sway quietly in the wind.
"It's a nice city." Cynthia said quietly. "I never would have figured it when we first came here, but it's starting to grow on me. Maybe we should look into sticking around after the fight." Steven grunted in agreement, which drew a smirk from Cynthia. "Why do I waste my time discussing these sorts of things with guys? They always sound like cavemen…"
"I dunno. I'm not really one to put words to my feelings about things I like." Steven admitted. "I just…like the things I like."
"Or sometimes you don't voice feelings and they boil up inside of you." Cynthia said, raising an eyebrow. "We're away from Trodaire for a while, you know. How are you really feeling about all of this?"
Steven was silent for a very, very long time. When he spoke, his voice was small.
"I believe we can do it. I want to believe it, anyway." He said. "But I have my doubts."
"Don't we all have our doubts?" Cynthia said. "Have a little faith; I believe in you. Shouldn't that be enough if the ones you care about believe in you?"
"Don't the people who care about Lance believe in him too?" Steven asked slightly bitterly. To his surprise, Cynthia didn't get angry. Instead, she laughed. It was a musical kind of sound, and it made Steven feel a little fuzzy inside even though he'd had no intention of feeling that way. Cynthia looked at him, staring silently until Steven turned to make eye contact.
"Do you know why I said you don't want to be like Lance?" Cynthia asked. Steven shrugged.
"I dunno, I just thought that you were saying it as encouragement." Steven admitted. Cynthia snorted.
"Please. I saw how you looked when I more or less admitted to Trodaire that Lance and I saw each other for a short time. First off, don't freak out. Under no circumstances am I leaving you to go back to Lance. One, you know I love you so that jealousy is just silly. Two, you really really are kidding yourself if you think you want to be Lance. I want you to know something that I've never told anyone, ok? And when I'm finished, you'll know why exactly you should be glad that you are Steven Stone, and not Lance the Dragon Master." She said confidently. Steven patiently nodded, and so Cynthia began to speak.
"Well, I went out with Lance for about two months. It was three years ago, before we really met. At the time, I was drawn to him the way we all are first drawn to him: the good looks, the elegance in public, the prestige of being a direct descendant of the Dragon Masters of old, the fact that he is such a hallowed battler, his friendship with that near-mythical boy from Mount Silver…the fancy capes…" they both chuckled at this last one. Then Cynthia's expression saddened a little bit. "But as time went on, and I got to see more of the personal Lance…I started to have reservations. Now don't get me wrong, he always treated me like a queen but…try as I might I could never connect with him. Do you know what I mean?"
Steven wasn't entirely sure he knew what she meant, but knew that the smart thing to do was nod in the hopes that she'd elaborate. So he nodded, and his hunch was rewarded.
"Lance is an absolute genius when it comes to battling," Cynthia said. "He can see things happening in a way no one else I've ever met can. The best analogy I can think of is this: we all watch a Pokemon battle like it's a parade, taking in the sights and sounds and emotions as they come. Well, Lance…it's like he watches the parade from above. He's able to see all of the twists that it might…or might not take. It's just a gift, and it's something that I don't think either you or I will ever truly be able to understand." She sighed. "But all of his gifts as a battler, none of it really translates to the rest of his life."
"What do you mean?" Steven asked. Cynthia shrugged.
"When the battle is over, and the lights go off in the stadium and the fans go home…I don't know what Lance has left. He doesn't really have that many friends if any, the closest family he has is that horrible bitch of a cousin Clair, and his best friend is a young man that I have never heard utter a single word, much less a sound. I could never get him to stop thinking about the next battle; the next thing to do as Champion…he never stopped planning for the next event. He hasn't stopped, I should say." She sighed.
"In a way, I guess I understand it. Ever since he was little he's been known as a great battler. While most of us are learning how to deal with Pokemon for the first time in our lives, he was being crowned Champion of Kanto. He's turning 30 in a few months: he's been the best since he was 13. 13! He's been number one in this country for more than half of his life! He's the champion of Kanto, one of the greatest men to step into the stadium ring, a guy who we'll probably see countless hagiographies written on him when he dies…and yet that's all his life is. He's the Dragon Master. That is his life. He's never been able to enjoy…this." She gestured to the park around them. "He could never enjoy the little things like sitting on a park bench with the one he loved just listening to the way the wind whispers in the trees, because he thinks he doesn't have time for that. He's in a manic race against the clock, or so he's convinced himself, that he needs to spend all of his waking moments proving he is the greatest. He's a charming, intelligent and good-looking man. But he's also painfully, pathetically, poignantly alone."
Then Cynthia did something that Steven couldn't possibly have expected: she cupped her hands around his face, brought him in close, and gave him the most passionate kiss he'd ever had in his entire life. Words couldn't do it justice, and when they broke away he was in a daze. Cynthia smiled slightly.
"You're not like that, Steven. You have interests that go far beyond just Pokemon battling. Your relationship with your team is far chummier than that of the stoic professionalism I saw between Lance and his. You can randomly strike up a conversation with someone off of the street, and even remember their name if you were to bump into them the following day. You actually figured out how to have a life along with your career. That's something that few people are able to do in this world. You are special, and never in a million years should you wish to trade places with anyone. Especially Lance." She winked. "Now, do you still think that you don't want to be you, and instead be Lance?"
Steven blinked once, before smiling a little goofily.
"No…I don't think so." He said finally. "I think I'm just happy the way I am." He looked around. "Do you think we should head back to the Fight Club?" He asked. Cynthia smiled, and shook her head.
"Nah. I think I wanna stay here for a little bit longer." She said.
And so they sat, Steven's arm wrapped around Cynthia's waist while she rested her head on his shoulder. And the wind it blew through the trees, slithering through the leaves like that of a million silenced whispers.
SABRINA
Misty had promised her that they'd videochat at the end of the business day, and when Sabrina logged onto her computer in her private quarters of the gym she was not disappointed to see the little blinking light in the corner of her PC indicating an incoming chat. Pressing the appropriate buttons, Sabrina was greeted with the sight of Misty sitting in front of her own desktop, the aquamarine wallpaper matching the outfit the Cerulean City leader had chosen for the day…perhaps a little too well.
"Still hurting?" Sabrina asked, daring to test the redhead's infamous hair-trigger temper. Misty rolled her eyes.
"As if." She said. "I have this big ol' swimming pool to stretch out the muscles. That, and when one has to deal with an immature Gyarados, one cannot afford to take a sick day due to massive soreness." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had your job. It sounds mighty fun to have Pokemon that are all adult and serious-like in a time like this."
"Don't bet on it." Sabrina said. "Some of them have a disappointingly childish sense of humor."
"I heard that, My Lady."
"Was that your Alakazam?" Misty asked, her eyes widened. "Tell him I say hi! I remember when he was just a Kadabra!"
"I'll pass along the sentiment." Sabrina said. Misty looked satisfied. Then, she had a thought.
"Hey, did you get Lorelei's email?" Misty asked. Sabrina sighed, rolling her eyes. This conversation was gonna suck…
"Yes, I did." Sabrina said. Misty looked expectant.
"Aaaannd? Are you going or not?" She asked. "I hope you are, and I hope you found a date. Brock has been pestering me to find someone for him, and I reeeally don't want to have to say that you're available. I could never do that to a friend of mine." She winked. Sabrina raised an eyebrow.
"Isn't Brock a friend of yours, too?" She accused. Misty held up her hands in protest.
"Well, yeah. But you know the saying: Chicks before Di-"
"I know, I know." Sabrina cut her off. "Thanks for that. Are you going?"
"Duh!" Misty said. "I never miss an opportunity to chow on the free food that the Indigo Plateau serves!"
"Well, that's good." Sabrina said. "Now I have someone to hang with." Misty's eyes widened in realization.
"Ohmigod you're actually going? With wh-" She widened her eyes even further (if that was even possible) "Oh. My. God. Did you ask HIM?"
Sabrina didn't answer, instead blushing a deep shade of crimson. Misty proceeded to squeal.
"I knew it, I knew it, I KNEW IT! I knew you thought he was cute!" She said. Sabrina got defensive.
"I never said that. He's right next door and he was available. Nothing more to it than that." She said. To her surprise (and secret delight), Misty seemed to drop that line of questioning. But the smirk on the Cerulean leader's face led Sabrina to reason that this wouldn't be the last time this topic would be brought up.
"Well I think that that's a great idea!" She scrunched her face up in thought. "Does he have a suit?"
Uh oh.
"A…suit?" Sabrina asked. Misty nodded.
"Yeah! It is a rather high-class event and he'll need a suit and-" Misty seemed to realize what Sabrina's hesitation was. "You're worried about the face tattoos aren't you." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement. Sabrina nodded. "Well, he is a tan-skinned guy and the tattoos are faded white but-"
"But in a suit and tie he's gonna stick out like a sore thumb." Sabrina sighed. "Why did I do this again?"
"Because you are a nice person beneath that supposedly cold exterior. That, and you want to end that reputation you have of being the lonely psychic who can't get a date." Misty said.
"DESPERATELY-I mean, you're right." Sabrina said. "I don't think he has one, but I don't want to go back there and ask. It'll be weird."
"Then I'll do it!" Misty said cheerily.
"What?" Sabrina asked. Misty nodded.
"Yeah, I'm planning on stopping by Celadon tomorrow to visit Erika and get some things for the gym, but I can totally fit in time for suit-shopping with your Desert Prince." She winked. Then, she looked worried. "But this is a Johto/Kanto event, you know that right?"
"So?" Sabrina asked. It always was.
"So that means…she'll be there too." Misty said with dread.
"She? Who are you talking abou-" Sabrina began.
Oh, right. Her.
"Well, Clair can kiss my ass for all I care. Nobody likes her anyway. I don't even think that her boyfriend likes her."
"Then she must make up for it by being really great in-" Misty started, before getting abruptly cut off by an embarrassed psychic.
"STOP, Misty. I don't want to think about that." Sabrina said. Misty frowned.
"But I think you're gonna have to tread lightly, though. Trodaire is explicitly training Steven to beat his cousin. If someone were to ask him what his job is, he would probably say that. And Clair would get mad. Remember how she went after poor, sweet Alder during that Unova retreat when he allegedly 'didn't give Lance enough credit for his own greatness?'" Misty asked.
"I remember." Sabrina said darkly. Thankfully, Alder was more confused during the incident than shamed, but for the longest time all anyone could talk about amongst gym leaders was Clair's psychotic elitism regarding her Dragon Master lineage.
"She'll make that seem like she was Mr. Fuji from Lavender Town if she corners Trodaire." Misty said darkly. Normally, Sabrina would agree with her friend. But then she thought to the times she'd seen Trodaire in duress. Each and every time he had smiled…and proceeded to stay one step ahead of everything.
"I dunno, I think we might have to be more worried about Clair than Trodaire." Sabrina admitted. Misty looked surprised, but decided to trust her friends judgment.
"If you say so, Sabrina. Hey, I gotta go. Gyarados needs to be fed and I don't trust ANY of my sisters to do that job." She smiled and waved. "Talk to you after I go shopping with your Romeo! Byeeee!" She cut the connection, ensuring she got the last word. Sighing, Sabrina leaned back into her chair.
That gala was going to be interesting.
A/N: I DO NOT HATE LANCE. He is easily in my top five most awesome trainers in the game…that being said, I think that it makes for a fascinating character to depict a champion in that manner. What's to say that Lance is a God Mode Sue (Is that what they call it on TVTropes?) who has no discernible flaws outside of his impeccable battling skills? Again, this is not to imply that I will always think of Lance in this way. But for the principle of attemptedly-interesting-storytelling, I aim to give a more Byronic quality to Lance just as I aim to give that to the rest of the people in my story. They're characters in a story, yes, but they are human, and human beings are not perfect. Also, who wants to read a story about flawless characters? Unless there is an acceptable plot reasoning for the flawlessness, then the answer to that question I believe is no.
Anyway, give a review if you can. If you have a question/complaint about my characterization of Lance I will absolutely offer a more in-depth defense to you in a personal message. But remember: I have portrayed Cynthia's depiction of Lance. We still haven't even met him yet. What's to say that he's as bad as she says? Or, on the other hand, what's to say that she is greatly exaggerating his positives?
We'll find out, I guess, won't we?
See you next time!