Forever traumatized by pokemon mating rituals, Ethan and Silver (with Sneasel in arm) fled from the daycare center with Feraligatr trailing and a peculiar fan-headed creature scampering close behind.
Ethan, noticing this creature, took a moment to observe it and found it was simply Marill clutching a scrubbing towel and wearing a rubber shampoo shield on his head. "There you are, Marill," Ethan said, regarding the ridiculous visor-wearing pokemon. "Sorry to cut your bath time short, but there's all kinds of emergencies going on right now!"
"Mar!" Marill cried, knowing what had to be done. Snapping his towel in the air, he began dance-stepping, working it, and bouncing like he was being paid.
"I said emergencies, not festivities!"
Marill never got the news that summer Matsuri was over. He was decidedly not very good at practicing Buddhism.
Mildly annoyed by all this brainless behavior, Silver glared at the horizon and
breathed sharply when he saw Team Rocket grunts approaching. "Look," he said, dropping Sneasel from the crook of his elbow and calling Ethan's attention. "Seems they stole your idea."
"This is bad!" Ethan said. "If they loot the daycare of all its tough pokemon, Goldenrod is done for!"
"Hmph. I wouldn't say that. I've never seen any particularly strong pokemon in there…"
"Are you insulting my grandparents' training methods?!" Ethan jumped at this provocation, but then gave the boy's disclosure some thought. "Wait… have you actually been inside there before?" Trainers were almost NEVER allowed to stroll in the daycare's indoor garden, so it was basically a pretty big deal.
"NO MORE questions," Silver snapped, knowing he'd said too much. If he revealed how he snuck in during Lyra's bath time before, she could find out and raze all of west Johto in her fury. "You stay here," he went on, flagrantly pointing at Ethan. "Weaklings like you will only get in the way. I'll stop Team Rocket where they are, once and for all."
In an astonishing demonstration of facial elasticity, Ethan siphoned in his cheeks and frowned so intensely, he appeared to be subduing tears of rage by somehow turning inside-out. "I'm not weak!" he bursted with righteous force. "You're just a JERK!"
Startled by the creepy face Ethan was making, Silver unwittingly gulped. What the hell, he thought; Why do I keep running into these kinds of freaks? "D-don't give me that face," he scolded Ethan uncertainly. "It's for your own good."
"JERK!"
"Tch! It's JERKFACE, get it right you—" Silver froze. And now I'm just accepting this term? he wondered darkly, beleaguered by melancholy. As my nickname? But is it even one of endearment?
During Silver's depressing moments of self-introspection, Team Rocket grunts closed in on the area with their rocket launchers raised and pokeballs ready. Smirking, they marched on with an exaggerated swagger in their shiny new vinyl go-go boots, which their pants legs were BOLDLY and rather controversially tucked into. With this spiffy look, they thought they were rebels—mavericks—fashionably edgy bad dudes sticking it to the system. But in actuality, they were just bored of their six day workweeks at the Pokemart and playing solitaire on the clock.
"Uh, Silver?!" Ethan asked tensely, searching him for a response but finding him wasted by lovesickness. "Oh snap, he's beside himself with DOLOUR! We'll have to fight them ourselves, Marill."
Silver wasn't sure what DOLOUR was, but he didn't like the sound of it one bit. He snapped out of his deep contemplations and clicked his tongue irately. "What did I tell you?" he said, shoving Ethan back. "Team Rocket it mine, stay out of the way." He motioned at Sneasel. "Get ready, you." Right as they faced their enemy, a cloud of rock and sand flurried overhead—filling their noses with dust and causing them to flinch and gag.
"What was that?" a Team Rocket grunt gasped, shielding his nose with his hat. His accomplices hacked and grumbled as well, only stopping when the dust cloud began to clear.
Out from the murky air stood a scowling Milktank and three trendy girls—a Lass named Carrie, Beauty Samantha, and the Goldenrod City Gym Leader herself, Whitney. "Hey Team Rocket!" Whitney called, winking playfully. "What's with that frumpy getup you're wearing? Didn't you know? That look is SO three years ago."
Slinging her designer handbag over her shoulder, Beauty Samantha flipped her pompadour ponytail and flashed a confident smile. She had used double amounts of faux eyelash glue beforehand so she was positive they wouldn't fall off this time. "Oh wow!" she said to the grunts with a pursed smile. "Cute costumes… Did you buy them in bulk?"
Offended by these flippant remarks, the grunt holding his hat stepped forward. "How DARE you insult our STYLISH and timeless uniform? It's a classic," he roared. "The awesome symbol of our Team Rocket pride! And of course they're ordered in bulk, that's the only way to ensure their fabric and construction remains consistent from batch to batch!"
Lass Carrie fearlessly jumped forward—as she often did in class—and threw her arms open wide in preparation for a motivational speech. (Actually, she did this every day in class, and to the point where others became irrationally angry upon her spontaneous disruptions and leaps to the front of the classroom.) "There's must-have items for every season," she cried, her tiny mini skirt fluttering in the breeze, "but don't be carbon-copies! Trendsetters are trendsetters because they've got their own original style!"
"Mh-hm, that's right," Beauty Samantha chimed in.
"Uh-huh!" Whitney agreed, pointing at the enemy. "Don't be posers, losers! That's an ironclad rule for gals!"
"Why you…" the grunt growled, seething with resentment. "Don't tell us what to do, we own this city now!"
"Word," another grunt said. "We'll mess you up."
"That's what you think, Team Rock-Bottom!" Whitney yelled, pointing at them. "Milktank, Rollout!" Dust kicked up again as Milktank revved-up and spun out, but the grunts dove out of the way and scrambled into position.
"Save your pokemon," the first grunt yelled to his accomplices, "use firepower to chase these troublemakers back to their gym! Fire!" He waved his arm, signaling the missiles forward.
"MOVE, weaklings," Silver roared, charging into the line of fire. Sending out Magnemite, he grabbed the poor hovering pokemon in one hand and made a fist with the other. "Sonic boom!" he yelled, throwing Magnemite forward and punching beside it at the same time, boomeranging a powerful burst of fist-generated air alongside it as a back-up blast.
Closing its eye and shrieking, Magnemite unleashed a spinning shockwave and sliced all the missiles in half, exploding them mid-air to Team Rocket's frightened astonishment. Crying in the wake of the backfire, Magnemite braced itself for abuse but was instead boomeranged off to the side by the back-up burst, where Silver dashed and caught it. "You alive?" Silver asked, shielding it with his arms. "Don't wimp out already," he coughed, rock and debris pitting his face. "I'm going easy on you."
Stunned beyond belief by their coordinated attack. Magnemite stared at the boy. Somehow, Silver had synchronized their movements and swept it from danger with the sheer wind-energy of his killing fist.
"What in the?" a grunt gasped. "Just, what is this kid?"
"That's my new buddy Silver," Ethan said self-assuredly. "Watch yourself, you petty thugs. He's a berserk delinquent with emotional problems!"
"Silver?" the grunts murmured amongst each other. Somehow, they'd heard that name before.
Whitney and Samantha, huddled in the dirt, pulled apart to reveal they had guarded their youngest member—Carrie—in a mere split second. "Hey Ethan, is that you?" Whitney asked shakily, her eyes wide.
"Whitney, you've got to get out of here," Ethan said. "It's dangerous!"
"Right." Whitney stood up and nodded. "We'll lead these goons away from here, but you've gotta go and bust the Game Corner for us. Voltorb Flip is just a cover-up, you know? My sources are totally legit, I swear! The back wall is false, Team Rocket runs an illegal casino behind it."
"Impossible," Silver said, "Team Rocket had all their gambling properties seized three years back."
Whitney bit her lip and squeezed her arm. "Listen," she said. "My old man is a police officer. They've known about this for like, forever, but they won't do anything. Ethan, they're holding your friend hostage there! You know, the girl in the funny cap with twin-tails?"
This can't be, Silver thought in silent panic. Did they somehow capture Lyra?
Crystal! Ethan realized, knowing the girl genius was still in trouble. Holding his face in horror, he yelled at the sky, "My GIRLFRIIIEND."
"Y-your girlfriend?" Silver stepped over and grabbed him by the bill of his hat. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Your past together means NOTHING to me. You hear?" He rattled Ethan around. "She's MY rival, you important childhood bastard."
"Wow, rude," Samantha said.
"No way!" Ethan said sharply, tugging himself loose. "There's no way a hooligan like you could rival her scientific genius."
Silver mulled this over. "… Are we talking about the same person?" he asked hesitantly.
"Oh, I dunno." Ethan crossed his arms and straightened his posture. "I'm only talking about the secret pop-star, Ruins of Alph decoder. Legendary Trio captor, AND Upcoming Professor herself, Crystal Maple."
"Yeah?" Silver huffed, bullying his way into Ethan's face. "I'm talking about… about… about My RIVAL, Lyra."
Ethan and the girls covered their mouths and puffed out stifled laughter. "He doesn't know her proper name!" they let out.
"GO DIE."
"Stupid brats, stop ignoring us!" the lead grunt cried, waving his arm forward. "Fire!"
"But that kid," his accomplices continued to mumble. "Isn't he?…"
"Yeah, for sure," another said. "If the boss comes back to him splattered, he'll be kinda maybe a little pissed."
Agitated by Team Rocket's loud gossiping, Silver turned on them and scowled menacingly. "SHUT UP," he said, rushing forward and punching a launcher gun from the nearest grunt's hands, "You too… GO DIE." He punted the man clear across the road and began stomping on a sobbing second.
"Goodness," Lass Carrie said to Ethan. "He DOES have emotional problems!"
"Oh man," Ethan said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "There's NO time for this, I've gotta save Crystal!" He began sprinting away before yelling back, "I'm busting the Game Corner now, tell Silver he can meet up if he wants."
"What? Don't go by yourself!" Whitney yelled at him. "You can't possibly take them on alone!"
"Are you saying I'm weak?!"
"Well yeah, you've challenged me lots but never once won a match against me, in both baseball and battle!"
"I'M NOT WEAK, YOU JUST HAVEN'T WITNESSED MY TRUE MANLINESS YET," he declared and managed to make it to the end of the road before remembering something. "Oh… Marill!" he called, turning around and holding his hands out lovingly, "come along now!"
"Mar!" Marill cried and ran after him, the both of them laughing and leaping into each other's arms in sparkling cinematic slow-motion.
Whitney hunched over exasperatedly. "Ethan, manly?" she repeated. "That's an oxymoron!" And so, her and her friends continued watching Silver pummel the grunts for the next five minutes—at least until they felt bad and made him stop.
Logging off the PC, Lyra lifted her head and scanned the Pokecenter. The occupants, whispering uneasily and peering out windows, flinched whenever so much as a shadow passed. Team Rocket had taken over Goldenrod City only an hour before—and now that the sun was rising—rocket flares rung out across the streets along with the occasional scream and call for help. More than anything right now, the city needed a hero.
Lyra turned to Typhlosion and nodded. "Let's move," she said, patting the new pokeball on her hip belt. "Luckily we had EVERYTHING we needed to season our new team mate! Though, she still needs to level-up a bit."
"Phlo?" Typhlosion inquired as to who this new teammate was.
"She's been in the box for awhile, but you'll just have to wait. For now, we have to protect the citizens!" And so, raising her fists and flexing mightily, Lyra ran out the door and all the way to the Radio Tower (with Typhlosion shuffling after her concernedly). Bursting in through the front door, Lyra tugged at her hat and yelled out, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOFOS!" Standing before her was… a Team Rocket grunt!
Unsettled by her storming in and shouting obscenities at him, he simply stared at her. "Who are you?" he asked at last, maintaining his calm when he remembered he was the mature one here.
"I'm, I'm," Lyra began but then contorted her limbs in awful realization. Oh nads! she thought, her muscles tensing. I forgot to transform into Super Jump Girl… So right now, I'm still in Civilian Mode! "I'm DJ Mary's rabid stalker!" she continued hurriedly and uncertainly, "I mean… fangirl!"
Typhlosion held his face. (Which was quite a feat, given his stubby arms.)
The grunt began sweating as well, but for entirely different reasons. "We have some business going on," he explained, somewhat eager to let her in—since he honestly wanted to see what would happen between her and DJ Mary. "I was told not to let anyone pass but Team Rocket…"
"Oh right, right." Lyra clasped her hands together and nodded.
"Do you understand?" the grunt elbowed her. "You are only allowed to come through when you are wearing the cool black uniform for Team Rocket!"
"Oh?" Lyra crooned, catching on. "I see, I see…" I've won, she smirked dementedly in hyper-aware thought; Exactly as planned.
Typhlosion continued holding his face, well after they both had traveled to the Goldenrod Tunnel and bummed one of Cameron's stolen Team Rocket cosplay uniforms from a surprisingly fashion-conscientious and nice young grunt.
"With this disguise, I can do recon," Lyra explained her incredible web of intricacies to Typhlosion as they ran back to the Radio Tower. "As a double-double agent of justice, I can infiltrate Team Rocket, move some bearing blocks to the wobbly top, and topple them from the inside-out."
Typhloshion understood this all and thought it was a good idea, but then figured it wasn't as difficult as she was trying to make it sound. As a consequence, these musings made him completely unaware of the camera flashes following Lyra at every corner.
When the two dashed back inside the Radio Tower, they were greeted excitedly by the awaiting grunt. "Ha!" he exclaimed, elbowing Lyra once again, which kind of hurt since his elbow was really bony. "You must be new!"
"I am brand new!" Lyra agreed.
"You look pretty good in the Team Rocket uniform!"
"Lookin' good!"
"Go on ahead!" The grunt stepped aside and then whispered to her underhandedly, "DJ Mary's on the fourth floor." He had already prepared a camera.
Just then, a door flung open and Silver ran in from behind. "Hey, Team Rocket!" he yelled, making the two flinch. He had just arrived from the Game Corner, where it turned out Clair had already smashed in and saved Crystal—not that the girl genius needed it. Though handcuffed, Crystal had chewed through the slot machines' wiring with her bare teeth and reprogrammed them to project rogue holograms which terrorized Team Rocket and left Ethan crestfallen about his missed manliness opportunity. (Though he did get to catch her when she obligatorily fainted at the end.)
"Stop going around in groups and troubling people," Silver went on, thoroughly exhausted by the previous mission but still full of spite. "You cowards!"
He appeared! Is this because I was wondering how he was doing? Lyra wondered, thinking about her earlier flight over Mahogany Town. "Or is it because I know it's my destiny?" she asked herself, understandably confusing Typhlosion. "Whatever it is, our positions have been compromised," she said, turning to the wall and raising her arms. "We'll have to make our escape. Typhlosion... Jet!" She waited silently for him to transform into their getaway vehicle.
Though failing to do so, Typhlosion grew silent as well, but it was already too late.
"…Huh?" Silver breathed down the girl's neck incredulously. "Are you Lyra?"
Beads of sweat rolled down the back of her head. "N… No," came a small, fat plumber-esque voice rife with socioeconomic stereotypes. "It's-a me."
Silver's anger escalated at this. (But not because of the socioeconomic thing, because he basically didn't care.) "What are you doing here?" he snapped, recognizing her at once.
She pulled her twin tails under her nose. "If you moustache me, it's-a for-a free-a executive calzone, stromboli, baozi, and, uh… um... spaghetti breakfast buffet."
"You liar!" the overhearing grunt bellowed. "You told me you were a rabid DJ Mary fangirl!"
"Hmm, I am jack of many tr̃ades, yes."
"That's the wrong accent you rip-off!"
Silver's face turned a pale blue when he came to a strikingly awful (and equally stupid) conclusion. "No way…" he muttered, placing his trembling hands on Lyra's back, "you think you're strong now that you look like them?"
"What," Lyra said. Is he trying to wrongfully shame me for what I'm wearing? she pondered. Hmmmmm…!
"That's foolish!" Silver declared, unable to bear her wearing such a mouth-wateringly tight black mini skirt—as well as the whole Team Rocket whatever. "You shouldn't wear those things!" He latched onto her tiny waist and lifted up the sleek fabric which despicably bound it.
"W-wait," Lyra gasped, tugging her shirt down before rushing her next line in a sweepstakes lawyer voice: "Hypothetically speaking, what I wasn't Lyra, and you hallucinated and did this to a complete and total stranger?"
Silver paused, his commonsense jogged by this pseudo thought experiment. If she were actually a stranger… he thought critically; she'd be her, so then… I'd take it off! He completely reverted and began pulling ever more vigorously this time, even going after her skirt hem.
Lyra shoved at his ruthless, proceeding face. "You'd DEFLOWER a stranger?!" she blurted, still not quite understanding what this complicated word truly meant (though it's usage was close enough in this case).
"Get your HAND off my FACE."
"Get your hand off my super gangster booty!" She fought as he pinned her to the wall.
"You're no—erghh!" Silver dug his fingers into the fabric. "Gangster!"
"J-Jumpgirl-mblehhgh," she sputtered and went spinning as he tore away her uniform—when suddenly—her eyes flashed and her crying morphed into a tea-kettle-like sound effect. "Digivolve to—" her shredded Team Rocket uniform fell to the ground, revealing her normal clothes underneath, "–MegaSuperJumpGirlmon," she roared, her Eusine cape fluttering out and her black specs landing on her nose bridge with sleight of hand. "That's my mega evolution form's name, yo." She flashed her lenses.
"That's way too long!" the grunt yelled.
"Much like your awaited demise!" Lyra said. Typhlosion held out his paw to her and the two high-fived and fist-bumped.
Silver, unable to believe his fully-clothed rival, collapsed on his hands and knees in defeat. "What... there's..." he let out, "another layer?" He couldn't believe it. "Why?" he asked chillingly—as if to question the accursed pokegods themselves. "That uniform was so tight… How was she wearing more underneath it? And this…" He retrieved the tattered Eusine cape from his pocket to confirm he still had it; somehow, Lyra had re-grown a new one. "Impossible…"
"Hmhmhm, yes, and now you've seen!" Lyra laughed superiorly, crossing her arms over her chest. "After all this time, you finally know the dastardly truth. Like how a Machop evolves into a butt-strapping sports girdle, I EVOLVED into these denim rompers."
"You mean overalls."
"There is nothing further underneath…" She ignored his comment and paused to highlight the terror of her revelation. "This is my TRUE! NAKED! FORM!" Her voice boomed menacingly, but only because she had vaulted the lobby counter and shouted into the PA system.
"That is absurd!" Silver argued, his whole perception of reality distorted by this twist she was trying to throw at him. "You're just trying to trip me out!" And besides, he added in thought, I've kind of seen you naked before!
"You may say it is absurd," she stood up with the mic, "but to me, it is absolute!" She stared at her hand. "I am perfect..."
"P-please, get off the counter," the receptionist said, her eyes peering up from under it. "And no battling in the lobby…" She sunk back under in hiding.
"Give me that stupid damn cape," Silver said.
"NO," Lyra said, selfishly opposing these demands—and continuously so after Silver had dragged her off, kicking and hissing, and forced her down on the floor in order to steal her cape a second time.
"Didn't you get my note?" he said, ripping the cape's bow-tie from her neck. "It was addressed to the WEAKLING it was attached to. You don't need this stupid cape, or to stupidly pretend your stupid days away. Why don't you try to understand? Why can't you just understand my feelings!" He knocked her hat aside and grabbed her surprised face. "I think you're enough. As is. My rival!"
She watched him, wide-eyed and immobilized by his rude but forward confession. Before, I couldn't look him in the face because I thought it was scary—but truthfully… it made my heart race, she realized, discovering her own feelings; It's true. I really am pretending my days away… but it's because I'm still working on making some things real. "Silver," she said, reaching for his hands, "The truth is… I… I love y—"
"—Huh? What is this?" he interrupted, jabbing his finger at her neck.
"OW," she yelped, rubbing the sore spot confusedly. "Uh… oh yeah," she muttered, recalling the bruise, "that's where that boy bit me. I guess."
Silver's borderline-affectionate gaze corroded into one of burning animosity. "Boy?" he repeated lowly, seizing her by the collar before exploding, "YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME?"
"NO I SWEAR MY MOVESETS ARE LEGAL," Lyra blurted, unintelligibly defending her trainer credibility while Silver shook her.
"YOU IDIOT, I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT MOVESETS I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR AFFAIR—"
"–OK I ADMIT DUNSPARCE IS HACKED BUT–"
There was a sharp ripping noise and the two gasped apprehensively. Silver's eyes sharpened as he held up a fistful of red cloth.
"So…" Lyra said, slinking down and looking away dramatically. "What are you going to do with me, Andre?"
"WHO THE HELL IS ANDRE?" Silver questioned, though his concerns over this and all her other insane ramblings dissipated entirely when his eyes drifted down to see what she was wearing—or not wearing. His face went red. "A… a pokeball bra?" he stated, both fascinated and weirded-out by this preposterous discovery. "What the… Your underwear drawer was so much lacier, so I just assumed… Hmph, forget it. It's just like you to be this incomprehensible." By now, he excused his prolonged, perverted staring with the notion that he was simply critiquing her strange personal choices.
Lyra had already gone livid. "Jerkfaaaace—" she let out a deranged battle-cry and latched onto his legs—lifting him up over her shoulders where she stood. "—FIGHTING DRAGON PANTS-STEALING SUPLEX." She bent completely backwards, rolling him and slamming him on his head.
Silver fainted.
I feel… so cold, he thought, his vision wrapped in darkness. Could it be? … Am I dead?
As light returned to the boy's sight, he found himself lying on the floor with Lyra grinning down at him. "Gray boxers, how totalitarian!" she said, his pants slung across her chest.
"You mean utilitarian," Silver faulted her, rubbing his disoriented face but shooting upright as soon as he saw his missing bottoms. "YOU," he screamed and covered himself, mortified by his own half-nakedness, "GIVE ME BACK MY PANTS."
"GIVE ME BACK MY YOUTH!"
"THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE." And what kinda of ninja-wizardry IS this?! he asked himself. Did she strip me when I was knocked-out? He then thought back to the sheer complexity of her one-hit KO move. "No," he muttered to himself, breaking out into a cold sweat as he remembered it all, frame-by-frame. "To an ordinary person, I appeared to be pants-less after I hit the ground. But to a fighter with remarkable reflexes, it becomes apparent that my pants were peeled away mid-air. How terrifying… this girl." He watched as she investigated his stolen pair, checking their stitching, inseam length, and even the steel buckle on their still-looped belt—all of which made him feel admittedly invaded. "She is… truly my rival."
With a loud smack, pictures fell from a pocket on the pants and Lyra bent down and retrieved them. "These are all... old pictures of me?" she gasped, sorting through them as Silver reached out a forlorn arm and sputtered. "And this one is of me as a child…" Turning her back on him, she hunched down several steps away and emitted a dark aura. "Then this means, Silver is a…"
Silver could feel his soul wither away, for surely, Lyra would revoke his noble Jerkface status and forever brand him as a perverted stalker.
"…A time-traveller?" Lyra said instead, her mouth agape as she peered back at him, genuinely overawed. Even Typhlosion seemed to be frightfully impressed by Silver's alleged time-traveling powers.
She is truly my rival, Silver thought to himself again—and with quite a bittersweet note."Can I have my pants back now," he said flatly, standing up and snatching them away from her. Before she could protest, he unzipped his jacket and draped it around her. "Give it back to me later." He walked away, but not before stealing a brief glance of its oversized appearance on her. "I see now, you were trying to be sneaky… Typical of the meek! I'll let you handle this."
"Don't forget to wear your pants!" Lyra helpfully reminded him. "I know you get excited and forget." Her teeth gleamed heroically.
"What! This wasn't what I wanted to see!" the nearby grunt finally complained. "Het does nothing for me!" He pulled out a pokeball, ready for battle. "But it's good I watched, because now, I know the true identity of Team Rocket's arch nemesis, Super Jump Girl!" He cackled madly, sending out a Raticate.
"Noooooo, you fiend!" Lyra cried, spurring Typhlosion into action.
"That's right! Her identity is… a girl named Mario!"
Silver calmly exited as all the lights shattered and the room filled with fire.
~To be continued…~
