The Johto Odyssey Chapter 11: Take Flight, a pokémon fanfic

The Johto Odyssey
by Galbinus

Dedication: NarutoNinja44! She's FINALLY back. My goodness. ILU (platonically.)
Chapter Rating: K+ to T for mentioning of slightly inappropriate topics
OC's Used: Arc Knight's Arthur Knight

So.. No update in… what… A QUARTER OF A YEAR? WHAT IS THIS FOOLERY?!

Yes, Galbinus is back, and armed with an update!

I am well aware that I suck. 8C And also of the 203842038 errors in this chapter. I will go back eventually to fix them. . . Eventually. . .

Chapter Eleven: Take Flight

Violet City—05:34, September 9: Tuesday

Brendan Birch awoke bright and early the next morning. The first, wintry rays of September filtered through the blinds and cast chunky bars of sunlight on his purple-rimmed Pokémon Center sheets.

Hurriedly, he leapt out of bed and hastily pulled on his short-sleeved jacket over his black nightshirt, thrusting on his pants as he hobbled towards the bathroom. He thought he could hear a small ruckus from the room next to his (of which Jimmy and Marina occupied), and assumed that they were in another small argument, and hoped that it would not spiral into another dramatic altercation. The faint snoring of May, and her most unfeminine body odor, drifted down somewhere above Brendan on the bunk bed, but these thoughts were quickly replaced by one resounding realization:

Today I am going to challenge the Violet City Gym!

His Adam's apple oscillated unevenly with excitement, and, after hurriedly slapping on some moisturizing lotion (Premium Ivory ™ (marketed by the Devon Corporation), no less), he wrenched the door open, stuffed on his sneakers, and, making sure that his Pokeballs were aligned correctly on his belt, streaked down the escalators and out of the Pokémon Center, where a startled and slightly drowsy Nurse Joy bid him, "Have a, um, good day, sir. . ."

Luck, however, was not completely with him. Approximately half a second after barging out of the sliding red doorway, Brendan found himself apprehended by the firm grip of Arthur Knight's powerful right hand grabbing his collar. Brendan gave a startled squeak and indignantly began

complaining, sparing Arthur only an oblique glance of identity confirmation, "Let me go, Arthur! I have important things to do! A gym to challenge! Money to make to fund May Maple's imminent shopping sprees! Even more money to make to fill May's bottomless pit of a stomach!"

Arthur gave a deep baritone of a chuckle. "There's no need to rush, young one,"—Brendan felt a little miffed; he was not all that young, he was already fifteen!—"If rushing's all that you do during life, then surely life isn't worth living?"

Brendan paused for a moment to digest and dissect Arthur's philosophical words, but still couldn't quite figure out how they applied to his situation. Adrenaline, surging through his veins, refused to ebb.

"Please, just let me go! I really have to challenge the gym!" Brendan whined.

The brown-haired man heaved a reluctant sigh, then dropped Brendan on his feet and allowed the teenager—though, from the way he was behaving, 'boy' would have been the more appropriate termination—to scamper away towards the direction of the gym. Had Brendan bothered turning around for a single moment, he would have seen the slightly melancholy expression of exasperation but expectation cross Arthur's austere features. However, Brendan did holler a vague, "Take care of May for the short while I'm gone!" to the man before rounding the corner.

His footsteps echoed without restriction down the stone avenues, with no congestion to bar the noise: even though the city was the second-largest, population-wise, in the highly urbanized region of Johto, at this ungodly hour no other pedestrian walked the streets. Brendan had already memorized the route he had to navigate to get to the Gym, and, after proceeding north for a few minutes, stopped to rest for another minute and began dashing westward.

Presently he arrived in front of the gym, panting as he drank in its proud, domed roof, its imposing limestone walls, and the lonely but large sign marked 'VIOLET CITY GYM' above the door entrance.

For a heartbeat, judging from the seeming lack of activity from the building, Brendan feared that the gym would not be open: but, finding the entrance double-doors unlocked, he stepped inside and the light turned on automatically, revealing a tidy (but still human-less) room. The lobby was furnished with several plotted plants and a few white-suede sofas, as well as four walls painted a light shade of violet, but apart from that, it appeared deserted.

Then Brendan's attention snapped to the circular elevator situated in the back of the room. (1) It was of an admirably modern design: a pane of perfectly-formed glass circled around a purple platform inside the elevator with no walls (it was of a round shape and impeccably fit the circular glass). A glass doorway was on the side of the elevator, presumably where the Gym challenger should enter the elevator. Brendan looked upwards, and saw a ceiling very high up.

Nervousness melted in with his initial excitement, and threatened to evolve into trepidation as he hesitantly stepped through the glass doorway and onto the purple platform, which immediately began gliding upwards. He wobbled on one foot for a few seconds, and he could have sworn that the Pokeball of his motion-sickness prone Aggron shook with fright.

He narrowed his eyes as the platform slowed to a stop, training his sight on the ceiling-less battlefield that was visible from his standpoint: underneath a roof of sorts that gave way to said battlefield. Something which tasted uncomfortably like his previous night's dinner lurched up to his tongue, and, trembling, he began walking towards the sunlight-drown field.

He suddenly had the feeling that someone—or, something—was following him. Whipping around, he saw that the elevator and vertical corridor behind himself was deserted. Frowning lightly, he turned back to the field, and thought he saw something sparkle in the air before he left the safety of the shade.

Brendan's arm rose instinctively to his sensitive red eyes as the lighting increased ten-fold with the absence of a ceiling. He could see that he was standing on a terra-cotta, concrete-paved floor that stretched for about the size of a football field, and above him stretched the endless celestial canopy. There was now nothing he could do about the embarrassingly loud heartbeat emanating from his ribcage, as he surveyed the area, looking for the Gym Leader.

It then struck Brendan that, though he had read in Max's Johto Rougher magazine that the Violet City Gym specialized in flying-types, he couldn't recall the name or face of the Gym Leader. Just as this disturbing thought flitted into his mind, a young man who looked to be about the age of twenty or so—he was not very old at all—came into view, soaring on a steel-plated Skarmory. The man landed showily but gracefully on the ground, and the metallic bird gave a high-pitched, blood-curling screech at Brendan, who recoiled at the horrible grating noise.

"A challenger! I see!" The man said in a relatively high-pitched male voice, flourishing the short sleeves of his turquoise-green shirt, underneath which he was wearing an indigo kimono which billowed impressively with the slightest of breezes. He began walking over to the opposite end of the battlefield, unclipping two Pokeballs from a white ribbon he was keeping tied across his stomach. "It's been a little while since I had one of these. Newly-hired referee, take note of the kid's scrawniness."

Brendan's ego swelled as his pride took a blow from the Gym Leader's condescending words. "Hey! Watch your mouth!" Brendan shouted angrily without thinking, making a rude hand gesture with his right hand. "I happen to be the son of Professor Birch, so don't even think about patronizing me, hot shot!"

The Gym Leader gave an unimpressed snort, further crushing Brendan's confidence. "Shouldn't it be the other way around, kid?—"

"Kid?!" Brendan said once again, cringing. "For your information, I am a very mature person! I—I—I—"

"Stutter? Punk, I don't care if you're the kid of two Pokémon Champions, unless you prove to me that you can battle as well as you proclaim, your words are dirt to me!" The Gym Leader spat. His large Skarmory gave an empathetic hiss as well. "So you barge into my Gym without even saying anything! Do you know that I, Falkner Avatar of Violet City, was sleeping peacefully until the Burglar Alarm went off and I hurried here, only to find a sad excuse for a Gym challenger like you staining the battlefield of my father and my own Gym! Now, hurry up and send out your pathetic Pokémon so I can show you the true extent of my magnificent bird Pokémon's powerful wrath!"

Brendan might have been genuinely offended by Falkner's words had it not been for the man's last few words. However, his Gallade seemed disturbed by the insults that had been thrown at his Trainer—Brendan could tell from the quiet telepathic murmurings Ruru was breathing steadily under his breath from his spherical container.

'Son of a runt Ralts! How dare that man revile with such untrue words my gracious master! I beseech thee, kindest Cresselia, please bless me with the strength of one thousand waxing moons so that I may, as some humans put it, "kick his—"'

"Ruru," Brendan said warningly, though he was secretly warmed by Ruru's supportive words.

'"--behind."'

A smile tugged at Brendan's face, and his gloved hand hovered for a few moments over Ruru's Pokeball, but in the end he settled on his Aggron's excitably rocking containment unit. Throwing out the Pokeball, Brendan hurriedly plugged his ears with his fingers as Rono the Aggron gave a beastly bellow of a war call. He felt satisfied with his choice in Pokémon: Brendan thought that he had been negligible of his other Pokémon in the week they had been in Johto.

Brendan looked to this right and noticed that a blonde woman had begun refereeing the game. He thought that she looked strangely familiar, then remembered that she greatly resembled the waitress who had been serving him, May, Max, and the rest last night.

"Battle start!" The woman cried out in a very official voice. "One versus one!"

And so it began.

A smirk.

Rono instinctively rolled herself into a giant ball of steel and iron plates before Brendan could holler a command. Bewildered by his Pokémon's disobedience, Brendan dumbly watched as Falkner jumped onto Skarmory with practiced synchronization, and in a flurry of silver, the bird Pokémon was pummeling the Aggron with repeated 'Steel Wing' attacks.

Brendan backed away, narrowing his eyes into barely open slits; the sunlight being reflected off of the Skarmory's metallic feathers was truly blinding. His shoulders instinctively rose to squeeze in his ears, as the din created by the clashing was rivaling that of ten excitable jackhammers.

"Rono!" Brendan said, wondering if his order could be heard above all the furious clashing. "Fire Blast, now!"

Luckily for the Trainer, his Aggron's auditory abilities were not to be taken lightly. Rono heard the order and, flinging her draconic body out in a whir of clashing rock-plates, unhinged her mouth and let loose a fervent barrel of white-scarlet flames.

Falkner, shocked that the Iron Armor Pokémon was capable of learning such a move, didn't call for his Skarmory to pull back in time, and the Armor Bird Pokémon's once-gleaming steel chest took the brunt of the Fire attack, burning a nasty charcoal color in minimum time.

"Skaarrrrrr!" ( ' ":Good Registeel! It burns!:" '—Ruru translated to Brendan, sounding very much as if the Gallade were smirking) The Skarmory shrieked, flinging itself backwards into the sky. Rono bellowed triumphantly, stomping her pillars of feet on the concrete rooftop for added effect.

"Little punk! How dare you!" Falkner howled, positively delirious. "Argh! I should have remembered that the Aggron line is capable of learning many moves!" He cursed the Hoenn region under his breath. "Dear Skarmory, are you feeling all right? Your beautiful wings are still capable of flight, yes?"—Skarmory cawed affirmatively in reply, though still sounded hurt.—"Well, in that case, we must fight back! Skarmory, 'Metal Sound'!"

Brendan had just clamped his hands over his ears when the flying Pokémon sent a series of rapid high-pitched cries at the ground. It assuaged his ears, not unlike a lightning bolt would strike an unsuspecting pond. Lacking appendages and the ability to raise her arms to her head, Rono was affected the worse by the attack: her entire body—all steel plates and bulk—was driven back several feet (leaving black marks on the floor) by the force of sheer sound alone.

Falkner was giggling gleefully. Brendan found the sound highly perturbing, perhaps even more so than the Gym Leader's Pokémon's 'Metal Sound' attack.

"Haha! Who's laughing now, punk?!" Falkner said. "Skarmory, 'Air Slash' now!"

Brendan's eyebrow twitched with annoyance, and hurriedly he yelled as Skarmory drew back its wings to fire off the Flying-type attack, "Rono! Hurry, counter with 'Fire Blast'!"

Unfortunately, however, Falkner was preparing this time around. "Dodge!" The Gym Leader called out, and the Skarmory swerved violently to the right, avoiding just in time the fire attack.

They exchanged 'Air Slashes' and 'Fire Blasts' for solid five minutes; all the while Brendan's mind was racing to reach some sort of feasible ending to this battle. He was hesitant on ordering his Aggron to strike with an 'Iron Tail': doing so would require the Iron Armor Pokémon to go airborne for at least a few seconds, and that would only be offering Rono on a silver platter to the flying-type.

At last Brendan seemed to reach some sort of consensus. He looked at the floor, then at the sky. Tapping his feet on the concrete, Brendan listened and estimated that the rooftop was thick enough to withstand a lot of pressure (perhaps it had been built with the thought of Pokémon battles to account for.)

"Rono!" Brendan called above yet another obligatory 'Fire Blast'—which scorched off a steel feather—, "Use 'Iron Tail' on the floor!"

The Aggron shot her Trainer a dubious glance, but knew better than to disobey, despite the strangeness of the command. With a monumental heave of an inhale, Rono flipped into the air—and, tail glowing white—and slammed her lower-spinal appendage into the rooftop with all of her strength (and, considering, that was quite a bit of horsepower.)

Meter-high spikes of concrete exploded out of the ground and skyrocketed even higher up. One, propelled upwards at a speed almost supersonic, hit the glistening, silver, all-too-exposed belly of the Skarmory. There was a sickening crunching noise as the spike of concrete took the Armor Bird Pokémon to even loftier heights, simply with its initial propulsion. A smirk lifted Brendan's defined features; Rono bellowed triumphantly, stomping her foot and thrashing the tail which had caused such damage victoriously.

Unfortunately, this action seemed to tip some sort of constructional scale: the entire building began trembling as concrete gave way in the middle of the battlefield/rooftop, where the 'Iron Tail' had taken place. Rooted to the ground with horror, Brendan could only watch as the once-grand edifice began crumbling away, as if assuaged by some sort of single-building earthquake; and in a sense, it had been.

The blonde referee shrieked, startled; Brendan was revitalized enough to shoot her a glance and noticed that she had thrust a flag in his way, signaling that he had won. Seeing his victory confirmed brought some happiness to him; but it vanished quickly as Brendan realized that he was soon to fall to an untimely and unceremonious death if he did not get out of there—fast.

Hurriedly, Brendan returned his stuttering Rono and, trembling with the tremors that rolled through the building, reached for his Dragonite's Pokeball. By this point he had completely forgotten about anyone's safety apart from his own; fortunately, he located the correct Pokeball and flung out Dradra, just as he fell backwards into the hole.

Screaming like a girl, Brendan flayed about wildly in mid-air, gravity seeking to claim his messy death as, seemingly miles above him, an orange Dragon materialized out of red light. "Dradra!" Brendan yelled.

He was then hit by a falling rock and the last thing he saw or heard was a concerned yelp of a Pokémon, then darkness.

Violet City Pokémon Center—03:12, September 12: Friday

To May Maple, the wait seemed almost eternal as she sat hunched over the still body of Brendan Birch. For three days, she did not move from her seat except to consult the hospital's washroom and get a drink of water: she saw no need to eat or sleep; when the Pokémon Center, Human Division security guards came on the first night to bodily, if necessary, to remove her from her bedside seating, she sent out her Blaziken and he gladly took care of the problem, fending off two of the guards' Machoke. The hospital staff had not troubled her since then. Dark circles grew underneath her blue eyes; and they lost all of their blossoming vivacity.

Despite her brother lambasting her for lack of eating (funny, though, thought May, He's usually the one telling me to stop stuffing my "fat mouth") or sleeping, May, stubbornly, did neither of those things. It was impossible to escape from her black hole of fear; the doctors were unsure whether or not Brendan would wake up from his concussion. Her Pokémon were the only ones who sensed and understood her true worrying.

I've lost him once already. I can't lose him again.

Perhaps May was being dramatic—perhaps being a Coordinator influenced this?—but as she stroked her Eevee's tail in the wee hours of the morning, fighting back strong urges to yawn, she would meditate on childhood memories of mock Pokémon battles with Brendan—and Wally, too, if he was there—and trying to learn how to sew—and learning how to cook her first omelet under Brendan's guidance—and—and—

"Where's my badge?!"

May jumped out of her seat and it skidded across the floor and she landed on her Eevee's tail and the DNA Pokémon howled in agony and May apologized and she got up.

Brendan was sitting upright in his bed, white sheets, his back as straight as a ruler. May's breath caught in her throat, and, unable to restrain herself, she blurted out, "BRENDAN!" and hurled herself into his embrace, sobs racking her body.

"Whoa, calm down, May," Brendan said, alarmed. May felt his warm arms snake up her back in a gesture of placation. Oddly enough, instead of her being the one to comfort Brendan, the roles had been reversed. It was strange how things tended to happen in that pattern around the black-haired Trainer. These thoughts only amplified May's crying. "Uh, May, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," May managed to choke out.

Hesitantly, Brendan said, "Did I get the badge?"

May smiled wryly; sensing trepidation swell up around Brendan, she pulled out a small package from her dandelion fanny pack and handed it over to the black-haired Trainer, who accepted the parcel with trembling hands and stuttered "thanks".

Ripping the package open with the ferocity of a Primeape, Brendan's shaking fingers found the U-shape of the Zephyr Badge. Peering as surreptitiously as she could into Brendan's crimson eyes, May noticed pleasantly that their usual content shine had manifested. She watched as Brendan found the small letter attached to the badge, and perused it aloud.

" 'Dear Mr. Birch,

I, as Falkner, Gym Leader of Violet City, am writing in an apology of my barbaric behavior—'"

'It is heartening, at the very least, to see that impudent excuse of a Gym Leader learning some manners deserving of my good master,' Ruru remarked vindictively, bringing a small smile to Brendan's lips which he hastily erased and continued.

" 'I wish to present you with this Zephyr badge, in recognition of your prowess in battle. This badge is one of the few which entirely survived the collapse of infrastructure. Though the damage was astounding, as a Pokémon League representative I acknowledge that under Section 12b of the Gym Ordinance Laws, I am not allowed to sue you for reparations, which I had no intention of doing, anyhow.' "

His voice broke momentarily, but he plowed on through the letter.

" 'Enclosed also are Pokédollars 25,000, the payment for your victory.'"

Brendan's red eyes twinkled. "Hope that's enough to satiate your appetite for a little while, May," and May was glad that Brendan was really back.

" 'If you were curious, the referee escaped undamaged, though I have no idea where she is now, as the Pokémon Center, Human Division of Violet City informed me that she was ejected from hospital premises after her alleged husband came and picked her up. They were accompanied by a strange boy.'

" 'I conclude this letter with yet another apology, and I profess my deepest congratulations. May your journey through the rest of the Johto League prove as unfettered as our match.'

'Sincerely,'

'Falkner Ava, Jr.' "

May beamed, but Brendan crumpled with rather disturbing power the letter from Falkner, throwing away all the contents of the package save for the badge. He polished the Zephyr badge with his hospital gown, and turned to face May, a slight smile uplifting his features.

"So, where's Arthur and Jimmy and Marina and Max. . .?" Brendan asked, almost suspiciously casually. May thought nothing of any ulterior motives of her friend, and answered his question.

"Well, Arthur's left; says he's gotta catch a train or something to Goldenrod. . . He told me he works there!" May said, her beam widening. Brendan nodded as he drank in this information, and waved for May to proceed. "Max's playing with some other kids outside. Jimmy and Marina left too; since there's no Contest Hall in Violet City, and Jimmy beat Falkner in the three days you were out—"

This came as news to Brendan. He coughed mildly and excused himself to the bathroom.

May watched as he slipped through the doorway, smiling.

Route 32—07:32, September 12: Friday

Drew Rosalind wondered what he had done to wrong the Pokémon Gods, if such legends existed at all. He donated frequently, albeit stingily meticulously; he was not rude (well, always) to his Pokémon; he was honest in his critique of others' faults. In the end the Coordinator came to the conclusion that Lady Fortune simply was not shining upon his green head.

The sun had set a few minutes ago, but the residue rays of light were still loitering in the air. Beneath him were uneven clumps of wild growth which lay over a fairly even lawn of "normal" grass. Proud coniferous trees, interspersed randomly with the occasional deciduous, blanketed most of the land to his left and right. His hands were handcuffed, tied to a chain where the female member of the Team Rocket duo who had kidnapped him was holding. The chain was long enough so that regular conversation between the two could not be overheard (consequentially, Drew didn't know what the two were called), but Drew could estimate the fluctuating emotions between the two based on how regularly and how forcefully the woman jerked his chain.

It was immeasurably embarrassing. They had taken away his Pokeballs and broke the seals on them to prevent any of his Pokémon from escaping. The only way to repair the level of damage on them was to take Drew's Pokeballs to a Pokeball crafter specializing in the creation and regulation of said capsules; but Drew had no idea where the nearest one was geographically

located, nor did he have much of a chance of escape. Not only that, but they permitted him to only drink and eat twice a day, and sleep on the ground, no less! Normally Drew would sleep at least in one of his Royal Suite ® DeluxeCamps ™, or a four-star hotel (normally five, though), and so the thought and action of actually laying his head on a—on a—rock to sleep was most disparaging.

He was not permitted to remove his handcuffs at any time, not even when he had to go relieve himself. Fortunately, the tall grasses provided plenty of coverage so at least he did not have to contemplate suicide on a regular basis, notion which would stem from being spied upon while he did his business.

Possibly the only good thing Drew could see out of this was that they were at least headed in a southerly direction, towards Azalea Town (he had seen a Route pointer some hours ago which read "Route 32". If Drew remembered correctly, that was where the next Contest Hall was situated; and perhaps, if he managed to escape this weird blonde woman and the weirder turquoise-haired man, he would be able to get his next ribbon.

But that seemed like an impossible prospect. Drew sighed and laid his fate in that of the heavens, as the woman Team Rocket member once again gave a sharp tug on his chain and he almost fell flat on his face.

Author's Notes:

(1) I didn't watch the episode where Ash battled Falkner, so I am slightly improvising with the design of the gym. I do have a few reference screenshots of the arena, though, so nothing should be completely off. . . hopefully. By the way, this fic is set in a predominantly anime universe, but there are manga and game elements as well, which I hope sets all right with you.

. . .

-brick'd-