Chapter 11: A Gathering Storm

"Life is the childhood of our immortality." - Goethe

"Now, really… that's just disappointing."

"I know. She just looked at me! Didn't even scream or anything."

"No, I mean the fact that you just left her body where anyone could find it, and they did."

"Oh, right. Well, I lost interest."

"Obviously."

He sighs, drawing up his legs to sit cross-legged on the end of the bed. His naked chest and back are covered with a tracery of scars; some puncture wounds, others long and jagged, some old, others…less so. His long dreadlocked hair is dark gray, reaching past his shoulders, with the last two inches or so colored a vivid purple. He puts his head into his hands—hands with fingers that have been broken or dislocated too many times to count—with another sigh, his thick dreadlocks falling forward, sliding off his shoulders.

"Whatever will I do with you?"

"I could say the same about you, kid," says the red-haired man, abandoning his momentary ennui. He stretches, awkwardly sprawled out on a plush armchair. A banette, with its distinctive zippered mouth, sits on the high back of the chair, playing with a dead clawbit kitten.

"I know. Who is watching over whom, I wonder?"

He watches the man in the armchair as he reaches up and takes the clawbit corpse from the banette, and as he crushes it in one hand, savouring every delicate snap as the tiny bones break one by one. As he abruptly loses interest and tosses the carcass back to the pokémon, the dreadlocked man detects a certain disappointment in the other that the clawbit is no longer alive.

He'd never got much pleasure out of causing mere physical pain, as the red-haired one enjoyed doing. The progression was far too predictable.

Eventually he straightens his posture, turning to the object floating beside him. It resembles a mirror or a glass sheet, but does not reflect the room around it. On its surface is a grisly scene that abruptly fades as the man on the bed waves a hand idly. It is replaced by an inky void in which a sand-colored spirit seems to float, its jet-black eyes the same color as the void around it. "It seems the pilgrimage has been resurrected," he continues, staring at the mirror-like pokémon. "Mirronos," he says, addressing it, "show us Siegg."

The mirronos turns slowly in the air to face the fire-haired one, who smiles as soon as he realizes what is pictured on the pokémon's glass-like surface. The banette looks up from the mangled clawbit corpse, mirroring its master's avid interest.

"Oh my," the red-haired man says, smiling. "How convenient."

He smirks slightly; it would be hard for an onlooker to decide which is the more sinister, the expression of pure, animal hunger of the man in the armchair or the look of amused boredom on the face of the man on the bed. "You'll still have to be careful, obviously, but I think you may be able to have your fun."

x.x.x.x.x

The three of them had slept for ten hours after watching the regional news. They were worrisome, the two murders. Several hundred kilometers apart, but both were linked in that they involved gross mutilations. The thought that something like that could happen to a traveler or a trainer was…unsettling.

Matt was disgusted at their late rising, but they'd forgotten to set the alarm clock, the three of them still profoundly tired after their fourteen-day trek.

At breakfast Moriko was surprised to see Angela, David, Mackenzie and Victoria sitting at one of the tables, looking somewhat subdued. She felt a slightly masochistic impulse to engage them in conversation; Matt and Russell said they'd seen the four checking in to the 'center when they returned from their excursion.

They'd eaten and trotted down to the gym, but it did not open until twelve. The three elected to spend some time letting their pokémon have a run in a wide, tree-shaded park across the walkway. The sky was bright blue and cloudless; the air surprisingly cool, possessing a certain purity that was not as obvious later in the day.

After roughhousing a bit, Moriko and Russell's pokémon eventually joined Matt's ursaring underneath a large oak. They knew a gym battle was less than an hour away, and it would be best to conserve their energy.

"So, what's your name?" Tarahn genially asked the newly-caught stantler; he yawned, flexing his claws and exposing his fangs.

The deer-like pokémon was clearly nervous in the company of so many carnivores; his herd instincts had compelled him to sit near Rufus, who was another herbivore, if not the right species.

"Uh…Keigan."

"How do you feel about being caught so far?" asked Sylvia, pausing her roll in the grass.

"It's…all right, I guess. I don't feel like a slave." The stantler looked at her with a mix of dislike and apprehension; she'd weakened him enough to make him vulnerable to the pokéball that had snared him.

"You're not. Where'd you get that idea?" asked Rufus.

"Everyone knows trainers are like that," said the stantler, looking around and realizing he was probably in the company of the insane.

"Well, maybe some are, but most are pretty decent," Sylvia insisted.

"But if you want to go back that badly, tell Russell and he'll let you go," said Tarahn.

"Well... he seems nice, but I doubt he'd do that," said Keigan dourly.

"Give it some time. If you can't stand it, he'll release you," said Sylvia. She was getting annoyed with his pessimistic attitude, but tried to be kind all the same.

"What's going on over here?" asked Maia, padding over.

"Playing Meet-the-New-Guy," said Tarahn, trying to conceal his amusement at Keigan's heightened discomfort with the addition of a fourth predator.

"What were you doing over with the trainers?" asked Rufus, curious.

"I was supervising while Matthew met with his newest pokémon. He was concerned he would be less than amiable," she replied lightly.

"Was he?" queried Tarahn, with a bit of a grin.

"He told Matthew to give him one good reason why he shouldn't peck out his eyes."

"By the lack of screaming, I'm guessing your illustrious trainer still has complete sight," replied the raigar wryly. "So he convinced him?"

"Matthew reminded him that he had been captured; thus, I, and by extension, Matthew, was stronger than him. Therefore, he was not fit to lead his flock, if he himself could be defeated by a human. Matthew went on to explain to the bird that if he spent some time with him, he would train him to be stronger than he could imagine. If he then wished to return to his flock, he would be able to defend the flock against any foe. When the ravener realized the extent of the good a trainer could do for him, he decided to cooperate."

"Huh. So he tamed a ravener?" asked Tarahn, with the tone equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"Not tamed," grunted Björn, surprising them all. "Conciliated. For now."

x.x.x.x.x

"Huh. Not disfigured, I see?"

Matt sat down on the park bench next to Moriko and dried his palms—damp with nervous sweat—on his khaki cargoes. "No, I got out of that one with both eyes and all my fingers, thank the gods."

"Where'd you learn how to do that?"

Matt blinked, looking at Russell for a wordless instant before shrugging idly. "I'm just persuasive, I guess."

"I hope I can pull it off when I have to appease a dangerous pokémon," Moriko said, staring up at the sky.

"You probably will. It's amazing how eloquent you can become when the situation hinges on something important." Matt ran a hand through his hair. "I was just worried that Badbyax was a libertarian."

"A libertarian? What?" Moriko associated the word more with a human political stance; it didn't really work when applied to a pokémon.

"Oh…it's a behavioral or personality class for pokémon. It's essentially non-existent amongst bred pokémon, but merely rare in the wild." Matt paused, shifting his weight on the bench. "It refers to a pokémon who absolutely needs to be free. Even if you immerse them in luxury, every need or want provided for, even if they think you're an amazing person and love you like a sibling, the knowledge that they are still a 'prisoner' drives them crazy. You're best off releasing a pokémon like that, because you won't be able to keep them."

"Have you ever seen a pokémon like that?" asked Russell.

"I have," said Matt. "A wild-caught charizard in a zoo. He was nearly insane, couldn't sleep, refused to eat. When they finally released him it was almost too late. Pretty bad." He shrugged. "I think it's usually flying pokémon that are most keenly affected."

Moriko examined a lock of her hair, somewhat bored; it was primarily dark green, but she could sometimes find strands of different colors, like blue or blonde. "Do you know any other personality classes?"

Matt frowned slightly as he tried to remember. "Well, let's see…okay, first, there's the warrior. Basically, a pokémon that loves to fight. It'll suffer you as master as long as you keep the battles coming. Next…right, the mercenary: a pokémon that will fight for you as long as you reward it with something. Then there's the pokémon that listens to you because you happen to be providing it with the best deal at that time, the…opportunist, that's it. The last one I can think of is what they call the 'apathetic', the pokémon who really doesn't care. It'll do whatever you tell it."

"Wow…they all sound a little…grim, I guess," said Moriko, going over her pokémon in her mind and not feeling like they felt into any of the classes Matt had listed.

"Those ones mostly pertain to pokémon you've just caught, before you form any emotional bond with them," said Matt, shrugging. He massaged the bridge of his nose. "There's actually quite a few more, I'd have to find the book again though, because I don't really remember any others. One of Professor Alder's books, I think…"

"Alder…Professor Willow mentioned something about him when I was talking to her. She thought she'd read something about celestiule eggs in one of his papers," Russell mentioned.

"It's possible. I think he's done research on pretty much everything. All the analysts agree that he's absolutely brilliant," said Matt. "They were praising him as the new Oak, last I heard, for his work on pokémon speech."

"What were his findings in that particular treatise? Do you know?" asked Russell.

"No, I just read an article about it…it was published a few months ago, but I never had time to find a copy. Anyway, it centered around all pokémon, psychic or not, having at least a very basic form of telepathy…or something to that effect."

"Why don't we see if there's a library here? Maybe they've got it," Moriko suggested, glancing around in case it was within sight.

"That's…actually, not such a bad idea," said Matthew. He checked his watch. "Hey, it's 12:05…why don't we beat the gym leader into a pulp and then check it out after?"

x.x.x.x.x

Verdure Town's grass-type gym had been constructed with plant-based pokémon in mind. Its first half, the south wing, was an enormous greenhouse containing what appeared to be at least one specimen of every plant in the world. A small reception desk was slightly off to the side of the entrance, at which sat a prim secretary typing away at a computer, dwarfed completely by the enormous maple behind her. Red brick paths stretched away from the semicircle-shaped entranceway, weaving through the thick greenery. The air was somewhat humid, simulating an environment not unlike the one they'd left behind in Port Littoral. There was the sound of trickling water, somewhere in the mass of trees and scrubs and climbing vines, interspersed by the occasional birdcall.

"Can I help you?" said the secretary, eventually, breaking them out of their collective, admiring reverie.

"Uh…yeah. We're here to challenge the gym leader," said Matt.

"Go right in, then," she said, dismissive, resuming her typing.

"May I ask you which path is the quickest to take?" said Russell. The greenery was so thick that the five or six different walkways seemed to be doorways leading to other worlds.

"No, you may not. That's the point."

x.x.x.x.x

"Gyms often have puzzles that trainers have to solve before they can fight the leader," said Matt a few minutes later, as they wandered along a randomly selected path with nothing to guide them. "But usually you see them at higher levels, so this is a bit odd," he continued, scratching the back of his head as if genuinely confused.

They went over a number of bridges crossing artificial streams, boots thumping on the wood, and passed a number of decorative koi ponds. One such pond contained a number of water plants that, upon closer inspection, proved to be a collection of lotad, a grass and water-type pokémon, common to both Hoenn and Gaiien. A few of the forks they took terminated in a circular space with a number of iron-wrought benches.

After about ten minutes of wandering, they finally came to a pair of sliding glass doors, which opened smoothly as they came close. Beyond the doors was a medium-sized rectangular arena with bleachers on either side and platforms at either end that would probably rise and lower depending on the battle.

"So nice of you three to join me. How'd you like my maze?" The speaker was a young man, crossing the arena to join them. He was about average height, with longish sea-green hair, was dressed in a blue t-shirt with white at the collar and sleeves, knee-length black shorts and hiking boots.

"Pretty, certainly, but not an excruciating challenge," said Matt, smirking slightly.

"I value the aesthetic quality of my greenhouse as much as the confounding, so I shall take that as a compliment," he responded, smiling pleasantly. "Call me Thorn. I'm the gym leader here in Verdure Town, and if you haven't figured it out already, I use the grass-type. Who wants to go first?"

"I will," said Matt, volunteering immediately. "Matthew Sleet, by the way."

Same as the gym in Umber Village, Moriko thought to herself. Either he wants to get it over with, or he wants to…maybe, let us see how the leader battles? Why would he do that?

"That's great," Thorn was saying. "Is two-on-two all right?"

"Sure." Matt nodded.

"Okay. No items, no time limit, switches allowed. Shall we?"

Matt wandered over to the near end of the arena as Thorn trotted to his end. Matt stepped onto the trainer's box and hit a switch, the platform rising to elevate him by about six feet. Thorn did the same thing, buckling on a dark green trainer's belt as he rose.

"Select your pokémon!" bellowed a referee in the League black and purple, whose sudden appearance startled Moriko slightly.

In the interest of fairness, the two trainers tossed capture balls into the arena at the same time.

"Go, Badbyax!"

"Go, Kaseter!"

The ravener materialized with a flash of blue light and a throaty caw, easily flying in place. He was a large bird, his black feathers showing their luster under the arena lights; he had his back to her, so she couldn't see the weird rune-like markings on the undersides of his wings. The gym leader's choice was a venusaur, the last stage of one of Kanto's celebrated starter pokémon. He blinked wide eyes as a few of his vines snaked out, almost of their own accord.

"Use wing attack," said Matt.

"Sleep powder, Kas."

The venusaur shook his leaves, releasing a large cloud of bluish-gray powder. Badbyax paid it no attention, flying through and striking Kaseter with both an outstretched wing and the misleadingly named 'cushion' of air that accompanied such flying-type attacks.

Thorn laughed suddenly, seeing this. "I forgot about ravener's insomnia ability! I can't believe it!"

Matt shrugged. "You can't be perfect all the time, I guess. Drill peck."

"Body slam!"

The ravener launched himself at his foe, spinning rapidly. Kaseter growled and leapt forward, moving faster than his bulk might lead one to believe. There was a sharp cracking noise like a whip, and Badbyax was knocked back by the force behind the blow. A few of his feathers littered the arena like dark scraps of cloth, but the venusaur now sported a large puncture wound in his forehead which was bleeding dark ichor freely.

"Finish him off," said Matt, almost sounding a little disappointed.

Badbyax cawed scornfully and used what looked like wing attack again, scraping along the venusaur's right side and slicing the tips off a few leaves. Kaseter tried to slap at the bird with his vines, but Badbyax paid them no attention. The venusaur gave a bass groan and collapsed onto his stomach, panting heavily.

"Return, Kas," said Thorn, sounding only mildly disappointed. He put the venusaur's pokéball back on his belt, before selecting another ball. It was hard to tell from across the arena, but he looked like he was smirking slightly. "You're pretty powerful, Matt, that's easy to see," he said, his good humor apparently returned. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to negate your type advantage for now. Go, Perun!"

Moriko pulled out her pokédex. What emerged after the flash of blue light was a large, rangy pokémon that looked vaguely like a short camel with a long neck—a llama, or something. Perun had greenish-yellow fur that shifted more towards green and spikiness along his neck, and pale yellow protrusions that resembled long, dry grass along his spine and jutting out from his shoulder blades.

Galvallama, the llama pokémon, said the pokédex. It evolves from alpavolt with a thunderstone or due to age. A grass- and electric-type, it, like its previous forms, is quite docile and is used as a pack animal in the mountainous areas where it resides. The hair of the basic form, wikuna, is incredibly soft but it grows coarser as it evolves. Galvallama are prone to occasional fits of obstinacy but are otherwise quite agreeable.

Matt seemed to frown for a moment, but as usual he hadn't even touched his blue and bronze pokédex.

"Begin!" shouted the referee, judging that enough time had passed.

"Badbyax, just use the strongest attack you know."

"Perun, thunderbolt."

That's interesting, thought Moriko. Matt had sent the ravener on a sort of kamikaze mission.

The two pokémon began glowing with energy; Perun with electricity and Badbyax with some sort of dark light. A dark sphere quickly grew at the ravener's beak level; it hummed and quivered for an instant before shooting off toward the galvallama. Perun was knocked backwards but the shadow ball did nothing to forestall his own attack, which he loosed a moment later.

Badbyax cawed harshly, equal parts pain and anger, as the electricity coursed through his body. Moriko could smell burnt feathers; there were plenty of them littering the field by this time.

"Badbyax, have you had enough?" said Matt, the bird's super ball at the ready.

The ravener's reply was completely clear, even to the spectators: "Fuck you!"

Matt grinned as Badbyax flew upwards, climbing high above his opponent before tucking in his wings and barreling downward in a dive bomb attack. Perun launched another electric-type attack just as the ravener struck him.

Matt recalled the unconscious form of Badbyax, minus a few feathers and with the addition of a few electrical burns. He seemed to think for a moment before tossing Björn's super ball out onto the field.

The wood-brown ursaring seemed to unfold as he stood on his hind legs, fully seven feet tall or so, and gave an enormous roar.

"Begin!"

"Thunder wave, Perun."

"Slash, Björn."

Matt's ursaring gave a barking growl and loped towards the galvallama, his huge paws held high and ready to batter the llama pokémon. Perun emitted a pulsing wave of energy as Björn drew near; with a roar, the ursaring swiped at the grass-type—

And halted suddenly, a few inches from contact. Björn twitched and shook, every muscle locked in a state of paralysis. Perun gave a goatlike laugh and headbutted the ursaring in the stomach.

Björn strugged to his feet again, massaging his stomach and trying to get his wind back; meanwhile, the galvallama was dancing just out of his reach, taunting, laughing and occasionally sending a thundershock or two his way. Enraged, he tried to lunge at the cheeky llama but found that all his limbs were stiff; while his gait was lumbering before, now it was a painful shuffle. He swiped jerkily as Perun seemed to come close but was far too slow to do a thing. He was getting angrier and angrier—

"Björn! Think about this for a second!"

Moriko noticed that the bear actually stopped, stopped in his tracks, as Matt said that. Then, bizarrely, he sat down in the middle of the arena and put his paws to his face, and if she could see and hear properly, had started crying. Yes! There were the salt tears, seeping out between his claws.

"The hell?" she breathed.

"I'm going to have to concur with that for now," muttered Russell.

Perun was equally mystified, or maybe just curious; he crept a little closer to Björn.

Thorn recognized that there was something out of place, as he said "Perun, don't—" just as the ursaring disappeared.

He reappeared a split-second later, right beside the galvallama, the faint attack manifesting itself as a backhanded swipe to the head. Perun was taken completely by surprise, and the powerful attack left the llama pokémon unconscious on the floor of the arena.

"Fake tears," said Thorn, after he'd recalled the fainted electric-type. He shook his head. "I should have known. In any case," he said, mood brightening, "congratulations! You may pick up your prizes from my secretary at the front when you leave. Next!"

Matthew returned Björn and leapt off the platform before it had fully descended, landing catlike on the concrete floor.

"Whew!" he said, running his fingers through sweat-dampened hair, "I was a little worried for a minute or two there."

"That was a dirty trick," said Russell, grinning. "I'll have to remember that one."

"So who's next?" asked Matt.

"I'll go, unless you want to, Mor," Russell said.

"'S all yours," she replied, lightly.

He nodded before loping easily over onto the platform; as it rose, he didn't sway or lose his balance.

"Russell Ignatius," he said, declaring his name.

Thorn nodded politely. "Same conditions as before?"

"Agreed," said the red-haired trainer.

"Select your pokémon!"

There was a short pause before the two young men threw a pokéball each, filling the arena with red light.

"Go, Keigan!"

"Go, Xylia!"

The gym leader's choice was a vaguely wolflike xyleon, the grass-type eevee evolution. The pokémon was a dark forest green with a neck ruff of a wide variety of shapes and colors of leaves. Her pelt was actual fur, quite unlike the mossy fuzz that Sylvia possessed. Her claws were a bright, gleaming yellow that contrasted with her liquid, solid-black eyes. She barked happily, apparently pleased to be on the battlefield, and wiggled her stump of a tail.

"The stantler's nervous," Matt commented, arms folded as he regarded the brief pre-battle posturing.

"How can you tell?" asked Moriko, feeling like she was indulging him, somehow.

"He's stamping a hoof and arching his neck quite a bit. Wants to appear tough, but he'd be calmer if he actually felt that confident."

"Oh really—" she said, just as the battle began.

"Xylia, razor leaf."

"Hypnosis, Keigan!"

The cervine pokémon's antlers were not especially grand, but they did display a pair of his species' distinctive, somewhat crystalline orbs. As he executed his attack, the air seemed to ripple around them, like it was being distorted by heat. Xylia watched her opponent for a second or two, blinking dazedly, before shaking her head decisively and launching a flurry of variously colored leaves.

Keigan broke off his own attack as he noticed the missiles flying towards him, but he was too slow to evade them; several slashed across his pelt, leaving thin red lines in their wake. He grunted in pain, but it seemed they merely stung.

"Use bite," said Thorn.

The xyleon had launched herself at Keigan before Russell could react; luckily, the stantler instinctively countered the grass-type's strike with a stomp attack. Xylia gave a small whimper as the deer-like pokémon's hooves came down hard on her, but she quickly leapt away as Keigan shifted his weight for another strike. The stantler paused for an instant, feeling like there was some sort of direction forthcoming; the xyleon used the instant to bite deep into her opponent's right foreleg.

"Use astonish!" Russell said, as his pokémon bellowed in pain.

Keigan bit one of Xylia's ears, desperately, startling her; she released him and he quickly scuttled backwards, favoring his injured leg.

"Hypnosis again!" Russell ordered quickly; the shock given by the weak astonish attack only lasted a moment or two.

Again the air wavered strangely. This time, the eevee evolution seemed to blink, confusedly, before slumping down to the grassy arena floor, asleep.

Keigan panted, almost desperately, as Xylia's sleeping form was converted to energy and sucked into her pokéball. After clipping the ball back onto his trainer's belt, Thorn paused for a moment before selecting another pokéball and tossing it into the arena.

"Seta, you're next."

The red light coalesced into a specimen of the vaguely lizardlike breloom. Her red eyes glinted mischievously under a broad-brimmed mushroom 'hat' as she bounced lightly on red-clawed feet.

Breloom were both grass and fighting types and along with their formidable physical strength, one attack would probably finish Keigan off.

Russell thought silently for a second or two before saying, "Keigan? Do you want to stop?"

Keigan seemed to sigh before saying, "I think I've got one more turn left."

Moriko felt, watching the pokémon, like he would like nothing better than to return to the dream-state of his pokéball, but something was compelling him to give this battle every ounce of his strength.

"Begin!" shouted the referee.

"Take down," said Russell.

"Seta, use sky uppercut."

Keigan seemed to take a deep breath before bellowing and charging his opponent; Seta grinned and took a fighter's stance. The stantler's attack connected, but the breloom performed some interesting gymnastics, rebounding to hit an astonished Keigan in the face with a powerful uppercut. Keigan was flipped onto his back from the force of it and stayed there, his chest rising and falling painfully until his body was converted to energy and drawn back into his pokéball.

Russell muttered something to the pokéball—making Moriko wonder if pokémon could actually hear it when their trainer did that, it was something to ask Matt or whoever—before selecting Sylvia's pokéball.

She must've decided to look as intimidating as she could upon her exit from the ball; the cayvine howled eerily and growled, slaver dripping from her jaws. The breloom's light-hearted expression faltered for an instant before returning.

"Mach punch," said Thorn, apparently deciding not to wait for the referee.

"Sylvia—"

Seta moved almost too quickly to see: one instant she was standing still, and in the next, she was delivering a flurry of swift, hard punches to Sylvia's shoulder and neck. The cayvine gave a little whine of shock, staggering to the side under the assault, before snarling angrily and sinking her teeth into one of the breloom's legs.

Seta shook her mushroom hat, dislodging a little cloud of spores as Sylvia bit again, this time with a little bit of greenish venom dripping out of her jaw.

The breloom leapt backwards as soon as Sylvia relaxed her hold; the two pokémon began to circle each other warily. Although Russell's pokémon had sustained the stronger attack, Seta was panting heavily, her eyes starting to look somewhat glassy, like she'd been poisoned.

Russell looked a little confused—a bite attack's extra power came from dark-type energy, which wouldn't have really affected the fighting-type breloom. Sylvia'd probably mastered a new technique, but it seemed that Russell couldn't remember what it could be, as he said "uh, whatever you did, Sylvia…do it again!"

"What attack was that?" Moriko asked Matthew.

"Probably poison fang…and if the venom sacs in her jaw have matured, it means she's close to evolving," he said. Moriko didn't bother asking how he knew that.

"Sky uppercut, Seta," Thorn was saying.

Sylvia leapt at her opponent, landing on her hard as she was winding up for the powerful punching attack. Pinned against the ground, Seta could only score a few glancing blows against Sylvia's face before she savagely bit into the space between the breloom's neck and shoulder.

"Careful!" Russell said abruptly, as the fighting-type gave a ghastly screech.

The cayvine relaxed her hold obediently, only to receive a low kick attack to the stomach. She yelped, leaping backwards at the shock, but quickly shifted to a growl as Seta rose, streaked with red-brown ichor and the grass-type wolf's venom. She wheezed painfully before giving an enraged shriek and treating Sylvia to another barrage of quick punches.

Russell opened and closed his mouth as he seemed to wrack his brain, trying to think of anything Sylvia could do to counter the attack; meanwhile both pokémon were growing weaker and weaker as the poison coursed through Seta's body and as she pummeled the cayvine.

Then, suddenly, inspiration found a footing: "Sylvia, drop to the ground!"

The wolf dropped to her belly as if all her legs had given out at once, and in the instant where Seta realized she was hitting nothing but air, Sylvia bit her viciously in the stomach. The breloom screeched again, scrabbling at Sylvia's face and muzzle before the cayvine rose to her feet and gave an almost contemptuous flick of her head. Seta was tossed across the arena, rolling and coming to a stop on the grassy turf, and did not rise.

"Return," said Thorn, almost sadly. He clipped the ball back onto his belt, saying, "that's enough."

"But—"

"Xylia can technically still fight? I know. But I think you deserve the badge. It and your other prizes will be waiting for you on your way out," said Thorn. "Good day to you."

Russell smiled. "Thank you. And great battle by the way! Return," he said, drawing Sylvia back into her pokéball.

The platform sunk to the ground and he dismounted from it, calling, "your turn, Mor!"

Moriko exhaled strongly, a bit nervous—she had a type advantage on two counts, so her battle wouldn't…shouldn't be too hard, but…imagine she lost? What shame!

No, she told herself, it'll be fine.

"What?" she said, realizing Matt was talking to her.

"I said, 'good luck'," said Matthew, looking like he was about to laugh.

"Oh…thanks."

She nodded, a bit weakly, at Russell as she passed him, and jumped slightly to ascend onto the trainer's platform. Her heavy boots hit the hollow metal structure as she moved to the side facing the arena and grasped the railing, taking care to keep her balance as the platform rose.

"So, miss…I believe you already know me," said Thorn, tucking a strand of hair behind one of his ears, apparently unaware of how feminine the motion was, or maybe just not caring. "What is your name?"

"Moriko Rotewald. Speaking of names, there's something I wanted to ask you…you wouldn't happen to be related to a Professor Hawthorn in Port Littoral, would you?"

Thorn grinned, abruptly. "I would, actually—the old goat is my father. My full name is Alexander Hawthorn. How is he?"

"Well…he was really strict when he used to teach us Pokémon Theory," she replied, trying to be objective. "But I don't know what he was like outside of school."

"As I'd expect. All right…shall we begin?"

"Let's."

"Select your pokémon!" said the referee.

"Jurojin!"

"Go, Tarahn!"

Thorn's selection appeared from the greenish-blue light of a net ball: it was a mooskeg buck, probably locally caught, judging by its similarity to the one she'd seen a few days earlier. This one lacked the hunted look of that other one, and was probably older: his antlers had come in, and he was taller at the shoulder. Tarahn paced, facing his opponent; but she wondered if he had his teeth bared and his purple eyes glinting predatorily, his easygoing nature shed due to the seriousness of the battle?

"Begin!"

"Use take down," said Thorn.

"Poison claw!" said Moriko quickly.

Jurojin snorted and charged Tarahn, his head lowered so the impact would be supplemented by his antlers. The raigar snarled at the oncoming grass-type, standing his ground for a second or two before seeming to leap straight up in the air. He landed lightly on the mooskeg's back as he skidded to a halt; Jurojin immediately gave a bellow of rage, which grew in pitch and intensity as Tarahn raked his back and flanks with his claws. The moose pokémon began to run in a maddened circle, bucking in an attempt to dislodge the electric-type on his back. Tarahn hung on for a second or two, just to prove that he could, before leaping gracefully off.

"Try a spark attack," said Moriko. Tarahn's poison-type attacks would probably do more damage, but they required him to make physical contact with the target, and that could be dangerous given the characteristically low defensive abilities of the raigar species.

"Water pulse, Juro."

Sparks of electricity danced along Tarahn's body as his fur stood on end; with a miniature thunderclap, a bolt of electricity shot at the mooskeg. At the same time, Jurojin spat a ball of water at the cougar pokémon. Tarahn saw the water coming, too slow to react to it and was knocked back across the arena; the mooskeg bellowed in pain as the electric energy coursed through his body.

"Take down," said Thorn, again.

"Use—hell's bells, Tarahn!"

The raigar had turned his back on the moosekeg and proceeded to shake himself vigorously, sending a spray of water in all directions as the grass-type charged him. He looked up in time to desperately throw himself out of the take down attack's path, but not quickly enough to avoid being raked by Jurojin's antlers as he galloped past. Tarahn yowled, his left hind leg capable of only a limp as he tried to right himself and face his opponent.

"Finish him with stomp," said Thorn. Tarahn wasn't that badly hurt, but an attack like stomp would probably render him unable to battle if he couldn't dodge it.

"Spark again," said Moriko, as Jurojin's path curved back around towards the raigar and accelerated.

Tarahn growled as electricity was being drawn from all over his body and focused into one shot—but he was too slow, the mooskeg would hit him before then—he was surrounded by an electric aura now—Jurojin was on his hind legs, about to bring down all his weight—

There should have been a terrific flash of light. Instead, there was only a snarl, followed by a cervine scream, as Tarahn leapt and sunk his teeth and claws into the mooskeg's belly. For an instant, it looked like the two pokémon were in some sort of bizarre embrace, and then Jurojin overbalanced and fell to the arena floor with a thud and the clatter of antlers. He kept screaming as the raigar tore into his vulnerable underside.

"Tarahn! Cut it out!" There wasn't much that pokécenter healers couldn't fix, spinal injuries included, but if too much damage was done before they got there—

Tarahn obeyed, limping away, his paws and muzzle dark red with the mooskeg's blood. Jurojin panted and groaned with pain, his belly covered with deep slashes in addition to the others he'd sustained.

"Return," said Thorn quickly. An aide came rushing up to the trainer platform and Thorn handed her Jurojin's net ball, then removed an ultra ball from his trainer belt. He took the belt with its other four balls, the pokémon that Russell and Matt had faced, and passed that down to the aide as well, who sped off towards the back; presumably they had their own pokécenter facilities somewhere in the gym.

"I think you'd better stop too, Tarahn," Moriko said.

"If you insist," he said lightly, but she could tell he was relieved.

Moriko clipped the raigar's rather scuffed pokéball to her belt and selected Rufus's ball, flicking it out into the arena. With a burst of red light, the fire-type bull materialized, his mane and tail burning bluish in places. He gave a deep bass moo and pawed the turf of the arena restlessly.

Thorn was just watching, holding the one capture ball he had left as if it was something precious he was loath to part with.

"I forgot that I'd left this pokémon on my belt," he said eventually. "She is almost too strong for me to use legally. Your having a fire type makes me feel slightly better for my…oversight. You might actually have a chance."

Moriko felt a chill, not at what he said but how he said it; she was used to this kind of pre-battle boasting, but not to how expressionless his voice had become. "Why can't you get an aide or someone to bring you a different pokémon?" she asked, although she already had an idea of what the answer was.

"Can't. Illegal. The match would be invalid, no matter who won," said Alexander Hawthorn. He sighed, his wrist curling to hold the ball closer to him, as if what was inside had a thirst to escape and needed to be restrained. "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are." Her eyes flicked down towards Rufus, he had his head turned towards her, his expression questioning insofar as she could determine. She tried not to show her feeling of apprehension.

Thorn nodded, looking utterly tired. "Go, Arantxa…"

Moriko watched the ultra ball curve upward, decelerating until for a split-second, it was motionless in the air; then it fell, accelerating towards the ground, bursting open shortly before impact to reveal, in a flash of bright yellow light—

It was like nothing she'd ever seen.

x.x.x.x.x

HOLY CRAP. :dies: Six thousand words, and I didn't even finish the battle. I've been writing this chapter over, like, the past month or so…so tell me if it stops making sense or anything, because my brain is a puddle of runny stuff. I'm going to have to go back and change professor Thorn's name to Hawthorn, that's what I intended it to be but I'm not sure why I didn't put that. Blah. I'm also thinking about going back and redoing chapter three or four sometime in the future, because the one I'm thinking of sucks.

And yeah. LOOKIT ALL THAT ACTION! Yessss.

Anyway, LOOK! Mirronos! It's Empiric's submitted pokémon! Or the second-stage form at least. I'm sorry if I totally butchered it, but as soon as I noticed that it was a mirror it was too good to waste. Nyee. n.n;;

And a big thanks to all my reviewers; you guys make me feel real special. Chapter twelve coming soon, hopefully:D