6.

Stupid Son of a Bidoof

I must confess: A thousand degrees
Bring out the beast inside of me

"Are you callin' me ugly 'cause I'm bow-legged? It runs in my family! Candice, how could you?"

Flint had his hands balled into fists. His face was scrunched up so tightly his gray eyes had gone shiny with fake tears, which evaporated immediately, of course. After the television incident he'd learned a bit of self-control. That or he could heat up his body at will — something Candice wished could serve her up in the wintry wasteland of Snowpoint.

"It's not 'cause you're bow-legged. It's 'cause you can't wear a muscle shirt if you don't have big muscles, and right now your body's the wrong kind of trapezoid. You should bench more. Fill out your chest and shoulders."

"I think I'm pretty hot already. My core is strong enough to keep me on my board."

"I think you're making excuses when the Ginterson Building has a weight room big enough for Magmortar to feel the burn."

Flint just shook his head, lips quirking as he folded the muscle shirt and put it back on the shelf. He'd been in this store for an hour, mostly idling while Candice tried on crop tops and cover-ups and ran up and down the escalators barefoot while searching for the perfect matching shoes. He'd bought a new pair of cork-soled sandals with buckle straps and some baggy tan board shorts, but the girl was insistent that she help him find a tropical shirt, too, and it seemed shopping for a guy was even more complex a task.

"I'm getting really hungry," he admitted. "Maybe we can hit the boardwalk and come back here tomorrow. You're off for a couple weeks, right? Just hanging around Sunyshore waiting for battle challenges? There's plenty of time for shopping."

Candice shrugged as she furiously flipped through a series of short-sleeved beach-themed button downs on the nearest rack. She took a yellow palm-patterned one in her right hand and a purple Slowpoke-patterned one in her left, holding them up and squinting as she traced Flint's torso, now covered only by a thin beige tank top.

"Slowpoke is a Water-Type. If I wear that, it'll dampen my awesome flaming spirit."

"Why does it matter that you're a pyro when you're on the beach? Nobody knows I train Ice-Types when I'm having fun in the sun. I'm focused on the big picture issues, like how you gotta focus on cooling down that big red head of yours or it's gonna be another week of #SurfersWithStupidHair."

"Hey, my hair is very sensitive!"

Candice barely heard his protest. She decided on the Slowpoke shirt and tossed it over to Flint before marching right up to him. She slipped one of the dozen elastic hair ties off her left wrist, and though the top of her head came only to his chin, she managed to reach up and grab a fistful of curls, quickly pulling them back into a haphazard ponytail. Her victim, meanwhile, accepted the Slowpoke shirt and slipped it on over his tank top, wishing only that this was the key to a quicker dinner. Five minutes later, she was making him buy it while flouncing around in her sparkly new teal halter top and matching black fringe skirt.

Candice was among the younger Sinnoh Gym Leaders, and the most recent League turnover. Her entrance had been a shock to the more seasoned specialists. The ambition made sense, yes, but a teenage Ice-Type trainer? So boisterous and forceful? With fashionable, feminine grace? And from gloomy gray Snowpoint City, no less, with its town sign crusted with frost most of the year and a community sooner found in the cluster of fish houses on Lake Acuity than in the square itself. Ice-Types were for old, cold people, they tried to explain. And Candice replied they'd just have to get used to her style.

She'd never been further south than mountainous Celestic Town before her rank. Flint thought perhaps she was destined to love the Fire-Type, and her climate forced her to compromise. But in cold or heat, she was strong. Strong on the battlefield and strong in opinions and stronger when it came to reading the atmosphere and overthinking everything. She glued herself to Volkner's hip the moment she met him, calling him "dark and mysterious." Those were the days when he found battles especially boring and blew his budget on enough bolts to feed an army of Aggron.

"I wish I was mysterious," Flint had teased her. "I'm like an open book. Maybe I'm a hot rod magazine."

Candice had tossed her black braids over her shoulders and patted him on the wrist. "That means I can spend a lot less time thinking about what you're thinking about. You're perfect."

He could've kissed her on the spot.

The sun had set, and the beach was lively with lights — things mostly back to normal now that the weather was clear. Recent storm surges had sunk the ancient planks of the boardwalk, and restoration was still underway, leaving whole chunks of the path bare or choked with sand. Still, it was a more popular social spot than the second boardwalk. Thirty feet above the beach, the angled path of solar panels and guardrails was big with tourists, but seldom explored by the locals. Teenagers sat with their limbs hanging between the bars and stood around shaking the structure to see if it would wobble. The underside was etched and painted over with swear words. Candice once asked Volkner what he thought about it, before he opened his messenger bag and showed her a spray can. Purple, of course.

"You ever tried the street tacos here?" Flint asked, handing Candice a steaming paper boat of deliciousness from one of the food trucks. There was a great blue flash as he released his partners and shared the other ten he'd bought. Magmortar sucked up its meal in less than a second. Infernape was delighted with finger food, and Flareon nibbled bits from Flint's hand. Rapidash was more interested in lipping his new hairstyle, and he laughed at its searing hot breath rushing down the back of his neck.

Not fair, Candice thought, when Abomasnow would melt in the heat. But she let Glaceon come out to sit on her lap at the picnic table and fed it berries from her handbag.

"This is super spicy!" she exclaimed when she bit into a taco.

"Just the way I like it!"

"Of course the pyro likes spicy food."

"If you wanna blame anyone for my taste in food and Pokémon, it's my dad for naming me Flint."

"Shut up. You train Fire-Types 'cause your family's from Stark Mountain."

"My brother Buck's mom is from Stark Mountain. I am genetically a Sunyshore man. And I am not kidding you when when I say I train Fire-Types 'cause when I was a kid I thought you had to pick partners that made sense with your name. It works, right? I picked Chimchar and I'm a fiery kind of guy. My dad was a psychic. Well, not a real psychic. And he didn't train Psychic-Type Pokémon. If I find out he did, I'll bury my head in the sand. I hate those things."

Something was sticking to Rapidash's pale lower lip as it continued to preen its master. Candice reached across the table and snatched it. It was the crinkled bit of paper with Volkner's message still scrawled across its length. She sat back down, completely deflating as her fingers slowly traced the letters.

"So that's why you went nuts with the shirts earlier. You're worried about him," Flint said.

The cheek and the smile were gone, and Candice could only crinkle her nose at her companion. She smoothed out the paper and huffed. "It's just not like him to leave. We should really tell the police he's missing. He's barred from the gym. You said he left his laptop and Gear at his apartment. He never showed up to the Battleground. I even called Fuego Ironworks and was on hold for three hours so I could ask all their representatives if they'd spoken to him recently. Nothing. He's completely disappeared, and he left all his Poké Balls behind.

"Not all of them. He took his ace."

"He took one of my beanies, too. Typical Volkner move. He probably thought I wouldn't notice since I have so many."

"No, he knew you'd notice. That's why he left the note. He knows he can't cover his tracks and he doesn't want us asking any questions. I think he just wants to be left alone, Candice. He's probably off chucking bolts in the mountains somewhere. It's all my fault, and I wanna quit thinking about it."

"How is it your fault?"

Flint clasped his hands, gray eyes narrowing at the three words hastily penned in purple.

Candice had come to spend the night in the penthouse. She was bundled up and fast asleep on the sectional facing the grand vista of the sea out the windows. Flint remained awake and dressed, eyes dilated and mind racing despite lying in bed for more than an hour.

Had he said the right things to the officials? Would his word as an Elite Four member hold against Volkner's insufficiencies? Where was Volkner, anyway? It was after midnight. The protest was most likely still raging at the gym, if it hadn't spread out into the streets like the old days. Random battles flinging attacks of all elements at cars and buildings. Sirens wailing. Screaming lunatics. Theft everywhere. No one held accountable after the fact. It would be an ugly sight in the morning if Volkner were to come face-to-face with cracked solar panels and damaged walkways. Uglier still if he called it a problem.

Flint had completely resolved to go searching for his wayward friend, and had just sat up in bed when a stark figure appeared in the doorway. It was Volkner, with a stormy look on his face.

"Hey, buddy. Are we on call to save the world tonight?"

Volkner just jerked his head. "Battle. Us. Beach. Now."

They went. The streets were empty. The crowd at the gym still chanted, but luckily confined themselves to a verbal onslaught. The swimming beach was hot with floodlights. Volkner walked the entire length before hopping over the fence between the waves and the trees to a more secluded sandbank straddling the base of the promontory.

He summoned Electivire. Flint summoned Magmortar. Before any of the customary pleasantries could be exchanged, the first command broke from the Gym Leader's lips, and a bolt of lightning split the world into black and white.

Flint's pulse rushed. He thought of addressing the recklessness, but the lightning kept surging in his direction. Instead, he shielded his face with crossed arms and responded with his own attack. A wall of flames exploded into being, blue veils melting sand into glass and bright orange threads of plasma breaking off into sparks against the midnight sky.

Both attacks met dead in the center. Electricity buzzed and sputtered and burst in the air with the great din of thunder. Fire hissed and roared as it swirled outward, heat consuming oxygen and smoke obscuring starlight. Electivire jumped forth, pounding its fists on the sand as it shot superheated particles through the tips of its tails. Magmortar let its claws sink flat against its black fists, the surface heating until the air shimmered and a white-hot flare exploded toward the enemy.

It was no tame gym battle. With two master specialists showing their true strength, it was a nightmarish volley of fire and lightning. Hands and commands flew forth with no kind words behind them. Pokémon flung their bodies into furious fits of action. Rocks crumbled down the promontory wall, struck with power that blackened the sediment. The ocean steamed and boiled and spat up spikes of molten sand, then fizzled and shivered with static. The grass and shrubs erupted, blowing up in vast orange sheets of flame. Two trees were struck with a thick string of current, bark smoking and curling and crinkling to cinders.

The bout lasted a full fifteen minutes, until Electivire dealt the final blow: a Thunder Punch straight to Magmortar's bulky stomach. The Fire-Type stumbled and collapsed, sending a new ring of flames creeping around the feet of its master. The smoke thinned, and both men stood coughing and cursing on a charred and sparking beach. Ash rained all around. Sticky static crackled and pulsed on their skin.

Sirens approached from the distance.

Flint scowled and kicked at the flames licking his sandals. He gave the pleasantry to his partner before returning it. Then he turned to Volkner, still all stormy in the face.

"Well, you won! Now what the hell was that supposed to prove!? My thumbs are burnt!"

Volkner was silent. His blue glare burned even brighter despite the toxic air.

"Say something!"

Volkner shook his head.

"No, you're gonna talk, you shining, shocking, stupid son of a Bidoof! You can't just drag me out here in the middle of the night and almost blast me to hell without an explanation! I don't care if you lost your title! You know I tried my best to argue for you! And you know what!? I'm getting really sick of doing that! I'm getting sick of pulling you out of your sucky attitude every time you do something irresponsible and have to face the consequences! We're not kids anymore, Volkner! We're grown adults! And you're a human being, not some thunder god in the middle of the ocean who gets to do whatever he wants! Everything you do matters! Everything!"

Volkner approached, Electivire still at his side. Flint threw a punch, but the other blocked and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

"Thanks, Flint… "

Finishing the explanation, Flint slapped both fists on the table, startling his younger friend.

"That was all he said. 'Thanks, Flint.' After that, my brain just… exploded. I chewed him out all the way back to the Ginterson Building. I don't even remember what I said. We got to the top floor, and you were sleeping, so it kind of fell off from there. Then he took his jacket off and I saw he'd shocked himself at the gym. Badly. I helped wrap his arms and we both went to bed without speaking. I thought maybe in the morning I could patch it over with jokes and invite him to surf with us, but, ya know… He went somewhere to get away from me. I'm sure of it."

"You didn't mean that stuff, right?" Candice said, eyes wide with shock at the confession.

"Some of it I did. He's reckless, and I don't care if that's part of his nature. He needs to focus more. But… it came out wrong. He was angry first, and it made me even angrier. I'm scary when I'm angry. I'm scarier when I'm angry during a battle. That beach was totally charred. You call me a pyro. That's not such a funny joke in practice."

"Sounds like the fire and lightning fried both your brains."

"Right. We should've woken you up. Maybe you would've cooled us off before things got too heated. I'm such a bad friend."

A hazy silence fell between them. Candice had reached one hand forward, almost touching his knuckles, but she drew back when she saw he was grinding his teeth. A heat was pouring from his side of the table. She couldn't be sure whether it came from the Fire-Type Pokémon or their aggravated human master.

Then her Rotom Phone blipped.

[A battle challenge has been issued! Do you wish to accept?]

Candice snatched up the device, eager to distract from the awkwardness. The young trainer's picture popped up on the screen. Evidently a fellow surfer, with the cocky shirtless pose and water shoes. She could take him easily. An Ice Beam straight to the face. And…

Oh…

"Yo! Elite freak! Trying to fix the stupid hair I see! Are your Pokémon bow-legged too?" the challenger called from twenty feet away.

"It's on your profile, Flint. You wanna take him?"

The steely eyes darkened, and for a split second, Candice thought she saw a real flame sparking deep within.

"Accept the challenge. I'll destroy him."

~N~

There were three name candidates for this fic: The current one, "Something To Do," and "Shining, Shocking Son of a Gun." Was really leaning toward that last one for a while.

Also, ready to have your childhood ruined? The big loopy deals on Flint's belt are suspenders. The man wears suspenders but doesn't wear them as suspenders. :/

Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net January 27th, 2022. Reposters crisped.