A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.

The Fight Club, 10:10 A.M.

TRODAIRE

Paulie wasn't kidding. He did know some people. The very next day, he'd brought with him several former students of his from the boxing team, as well as a family friend whose grandson had just registered a training license. All in all, there were five pairs of eyes looking up at the boxing ring in the center of the building, where Trodaire leaned against the ropes to look back at them. He quick glanced around. In the half-second it took him to do so, he noted that the heavy bags and speed bags were secure, the weights were properly racked, and most importantly there wasn't anything lying around for someone to trip on. He then cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the Fight Club." He said. "I'm sure you've noticed that this place is a lot different-looking than the last time this place was open. Back then it was The Fighting Dojo. As you can guess, with the name change comes a change in direction for the place. We're not about mystical martial arts that are disconnected from the rest of the world." He smacked his fist into his palm. "We're about utilizing the most important aspects of fighting and using what is practical. You want to be flashy and full of show? Join the Contest circuit. You wanna win battles, knock off gym leaders and challenge champions? This is your place."

Paulie watched the younger man lecture the group. He didn't think that Trodaire was this passionate about the job, seeing as how he was barely in his twenties. But the way he was laying out the Fight Club's mission statement, you could have sworn he was an old master. That's how confident he sounded. A far cry from his slightly more skittish public personality.

"We're gonna start with our first lesson: trust. Right now, without even thinking, I want you all to call upon your most trusted companion. GO!" He clapped his hands. The trainers each instinctively called their best friend from their Pokeballs. Trodaire surveyed the quintet of Pokemon in front of him: there was a Mankey, two Machop, a Spearow, and Cubone. Trodaire smiled. Good. He could work with this. "Paulie!" He called out. "You and Conkeldurr set up the heavy bags in the corner and work with the Mankey, Spearow and Cubone. I'll start with the two Machop."

Paulie raised an eyebrow.

"Whaddaya want me ta do?" He asked. Trodaire smiled.

"Teach them power strikes. All of them have the ability to learn quick attack, so let them sharpen that move." He replied. Paulie nodded, and with a bark hustled the three trainers and their Pokemon over to the corner of the gym. Trodaire turned towards the two high school students and their Machop, and pointed to the Pokemon. "You two are getting in the ring with me." He ignored their confused expression, and looked at the trainers. "You two get in this corner of the ring and pay attention." Again ignoring their confused expressions, Trodaire took off his hoodie to reveal a cut-off tee shirt underneath. As the two Pokemon navigated through the ropes, Trodaire wrapped on his fighting gloves.

"Ok, so you are fighting type Pokemon, so I imagine you like brawling right?" He asked the two Machop. They nodded eagerly. Trodaire continued. "So here's what I'm gonna do: I'm gonna teach you guys how to permanently swing a fight into your comfort zone." He pointed to one of the two trainers.

"Kid? What's your name?" He asked. The kid replied a little uncertainly.

"Uh…Bobby." He said.

"You're names 'Uh…Bobby?'" Trodaire asked, teasingly.

"No, no! It's Bobby." The kid said with more confidence. He pointed to his Machop. "This is Chucks." The Machop flexed proudly. Trodaire rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Ok, Chucks. I'm gonna teach you how to live up to your name. First, we'll do this in slow motion so that the other guy can see it. I want you to slowly rush me, as if you are a speedy Pokemon." He began. The Machop complied, half-running to Trodaire's position. To its surprise, as soon as it was within arm's length of Trodaire the trainer shot his arms out and wrapped them around the Pokemon's back. "Don't panic!" Trodaire said. "I've now got you in a clinch. This is great because if I have my arms underneath yours like so, that gives me greater leverage. The move you're gonna learn is what I like to call a 'back fall-to submission.' You gain leverage, you collapse one of your legs behind you, roll backwards…" He demonstrated, rolling backwards while pulling the Machop with him. When the move was finished, Trodaire was now on top of the Machop, which was pinned to the ground. "From this position, you pretty much win. You can throw punches, Karate Chops, or even move to a Submission." He maneuvered around until he was holding the Machop's arm into what he called an "arm bar" position. He pulled gently, the Pokemon let out a small yelp, and then immediately released. Trodaire then got back to his feet, and helped the startled Pokemon to its feet as well.

Bobby and his friend looked at Trodaire with stunned silence. The guy had willingly gone in the ring with a Machop, and demonstrated how to beat one up. That either took guts or insanity. Maybe a little bit of both. Trodaire chuckled.

"That's a great move for facing opponents that are around your same size. If they're bigger…well you just gotta plant your feet and brace well. Ready to work on it?" He asked the two Machops. They both eagerly nodded, and set about practicing.

While they exchanged blows, Trodaire took the time to talk to Bobby and his friend (named Ritchie).

"Now, why did you come here to work out-Wrap tighter, Chucks!" He asked the two trainers, and then turned to bark an instruction at the Pokemon. Ritchie shrugged.

"We're from Goldenrod, and we were thinking of challenging the gym, but Whitney is tough…" He said. Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, she may be Normal-type but she thrashed our buddy who had a Hitmonchan. It was embarrassing. We found out about this place through my aunt, who lives here and knows your partner Paulie. She said maybe we'll learn something, and that we should come." He said. Trodaire nodded.

"I see. Well, if I recall correctly, Whitney has a team that will be very susceptible to ground-and-pound battling. You would do well to have Chucks and Bracer practice these moves a lot to get them down perfectly." He said, and then his face darkened. "I do not teach anyone to hurt another person's Pokemon. I am here to teach safe yet unorthodox methods of dealing with a battle, but make no mistake they can seriously injure a Pokemon on the receiving end of the attack. So make SURE you are aware of that." He added sharply. Bobby and Ritchie nodded furiously. Trodaire nodded as well, and then continued to watch the two fighting Pokemon exchange powerful blows.

The Fight Club, 5 P.M.

TRODAIRE

The rest of the day had gone by swimmingly. After a few hours of work, he was confident that those two Machop were going to do well against Whitney. According to Paulie, the Spearow, Makey and Cubone had all learned to really hit with confidence. Paulie had spent a good half hour or so bragging about his knowledge of how to get someone swinging with pride, which to him was the only thing you needed to hit full power. Trodaire simply smiled and listened to the little man wind himself up. It was rather humorous. It was also incredibly cathartic for the older man to talk like this, too. He raised an eyebrow.

"By the way, did any of those kids commit to being members?" Paulie asked. "Cuz only one of them did from my group: the Cubone kid. Joey, I think it was." Trodaire sighed.

"I got Bobby, but that was it. Ritchie made some lame excuse up that he didn't think he could make it work." He said. He glowered a little bit. "I didn't like the way that Ritchie was talking about the technique I taught those Machop concerning how he'd use it against Whitney. I don't want there to be anything bad happen because of something I taught." He added. Paulie sighed.

"Wanna give the Goldenrod gym a call?" the old man asked. "It might be helpful to prevent anything like that from happening." Trodaire shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. His Machop was really bad at the technique, more interested in the getting on top of and punching part than the technical execution. Chucks on the other hand was waaayyy better at the execution. Bobby was also like a sponge in the corner, too." He said. Then he sighed. "So that's what…$50 for the day?" Paulie shrugged.

"Ah, well. It was a good start. We'll get some good people in here soon, Troddie. Just keep on working, and you know that I've got your back kiddo."

Trodaire found this grumpy old man's reassurances very comforting.

And so it went, dear readers, for the next few weeks. The duo worked tirelessly at their post, balancing the budget as evenly as they could to keep things afloat. Some days they had to leave the lights off during slow hours to conserve on the electricity bill, at the cost of appearing closed. Paulie had suggested putting up a sign that jokingly said NOT CLOSED, JUST CHEAP but Trodaire vetoed that idea. So far, the only consistent customers were Bobby (whose Machop was now well-versed in Trodaire's ground-and-pound fighting style) and some other hanger-on trainers and older gentlemen from Paulie's neighborhood. Trodaire appreciated that, but with each day nervously glanced at the calendar. He needed to file a successful annual budget report five months from now, and though that was still a long while away at this rate he would never drum up enough funds. Paulie kept coming up with hare-brained ideas, but none of them were workable. It seemed almost a lost cause.

That is, until one day a young couple breezed in through the front door…

The Fight Club, 10 A.M.

PAULIE

Paulie almost didn't hear them come in the front door, he was so busy crunching numbers. He was an old school guy, using an actual accounting book instead of an electronic version on the computer. In fact, he might've completely blown them off if not for a polite cough to get his attention. He looked up.

"Hiya, welcome to the Fight Club where-WOW!" He exclaimed, suddenly taking in who was talking to him. Two young adults, one a silver-haired young man dressed immaculately with a blazer and cufflinks and the other…well, she looked like she'd stepped down from Heaven to visit poor mortals. Long and shining gold hair with a dark dress that contrasted her bright features so much it was almost painful. They both had reserved smiles on their faces. His left and her right hand were intertwined. Paulie blinked once to clear his head, and then spoke again. "M-may I help ya's, mister and missus?" He asked. There was a relieved look on the woman's face when she spoke.

"Oh, you don't know who we are?" She asked, a very obvious trace of relief in her voice. No malice, no indignant pouting. Just genuine and pleased surprise that he didn't recognize them. She looked to who must be her significant other, and spoke again in that sweet voice of hers. "Steven, tell him why we're here."

"We were passing through town on unrelated business when we noticed that the Fighting Dojo was now open for business," He said. His manner of speaking was calm, smooth and crisp. "Though now I guess it's called the Fight Club, am I right?" He asked, a little smirk playing on his face. Paulie nodded dumbly. These two were obviously from the upper end of the train tracks. Why were they here? Furthermore, why were they giving a lowly mutt like him the time of day? He was distracted by the sounds of punches and kicks, and remembered that Trodaire was in the boxing ring beating the stuffing out of the heavy bag he'd set up in the middle.

"Yo, Troddie! We's got customers!" He shouted. He then quickly turned to the couple. "You's are customers, right?" He asked sheepishly. The lady giggled and nodded. The man next to her smiled as well.

Trodaire finished off the last of his blistering punch and kick combo, and sauntered away from the heavy bag. He was planning on leaning against the ropes to catch his breath, thanking the heavens that they were strong enough to support him. Good thing to, because when he saw whom their customers were he fell forward in shock anyway.

"You's ok, Troddie?" Paulie asked as his young friend barely managed to catch himself in the ropes. Trodaire looked over at Paulie with wild eyes.

"Paulie…" He began unsurely. "Why are the former Hoenn and current Sinnoh champs in our gym?" He asked. Paulie was confused. He looked to Trodaire, then back to the couple. Trodaire, to the couple. Trodaire…Couple…

Click.

"OH SWEET BUTTERY MAKUHITA!" Paulie yelped, nearly tumbling out of his chair. "P-please excuse me for my bluntness, your majesties!" He said. Steven rolled his eyes.

"Cynthia and I are not royalty, Paulie." He said. Cynthia giggled a little bit.

"I think the sentiment is adorable." She said. Steven shrugged, and then turned to Trodaire.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"T-Trodaire." Trodaire said. Steven nodded.

"Are you the owner of the Fight Club?" He asked. Trodaire nodded. Cynthia smiled.

"Do you offer one on one training sessions?" She asked. Trodaire shrugged.

"Uh…normally we're grou-" Paulie, in what was perhaps the greatest and most heroic moment in his life, interrupted his clueless young friend right there.

"YES!" He said. "Yes we do." He said, throwing an ARE YOU INSANE? look at Trodaire for good measure. The young man played off of it. Cynthia smiled.

"Good, then we'd like to hire you to help Steven." She said.

There was a stunned silence. Trodaire found his voice.

"You want me to train…Steven Stone?" He asked. "As in, Steven Stone the former champion of Sinnoh?" Cynthia nodded. Steven looked rather embarrassed, so she spoke for him.

"There's a battle coming up, and Steven is slotted to face off against a potent opponent. The thing is, he's been…out of practice as a battler." She said. Steven looked a little indignant.

"I'm not 'out of practice!'" He insisted. "I've just been…busy with my research on rare stones."

"If you're so content with collecting rocks, then why did you walk in my gym with her?" Trodaire asked quietly. That question came out of nowhere, and Paulie had to look back at his young friend. Where did he get the stones to directly challenge a CHAMP like that? Then he realized: Trodaire was in his element. This must be what he does best. Trodaire continued staring bullet holes at Steven. "Because if you are really content with where you are in life, you'd have convinced her that this wasn't worth the trouble. My gym has only been open for about two weeks, and the only reason that you're here is that fate led Cynthia to seeing this place, and you must've been so desperate to win that you're willing to take a flyer on this. How am I doing, am I in the ballpark?" He asked. Steven, normally a cool and collected individual, turned scarlet with embarrassment. He couldn't look Trodaire in the eye. Cynthia spoke for him.

"That's the thing," she said. "He doesn't like admitting that he's a bit behind." Steven just nodded.

"Your pride is messing with you, just get rid of it." Trodaire said. He raised an eyebrow. "By the way, what's this fight you're going to?"

"It's the World Tournament in Unova." Steven said. Trodaire's eyes bugged out of his head.

"The World Tournament?" He asked incredulously. "That's some top notch competition!" He said. He narrowed his eyes. "Who'd you draw?"

There was a long pause. Now both Cynthia and Steven looked meek. Trodaire felt a sense of dread coming on.

"Who did you draw, Steven?" Trodaire asked. Steven Stone spoke, but when he did it was barely a whisper.

"Lance…" He muttered.

Trodaire nearly fainted right there. His head was spinning. He was supposed to train Steven to beat Lance? Lance, the Dragon Master? Lance, perhaps the most beloved and respected trainer of all time? That Lance? At that moment, he nearly broke and ordered these two nuts right out of his gym. There was no way to do this. It wasn't asking the impossible, it was asking for the insane. But then, another thought struck him. This could be the break we need. He thought. If he helped Steven, maybe he could get some attention for the Fight Club. That would be absolutely be worth the money to fill out an annual budget report in time. So instead of screaming, he steeled his resolve.

"Right now, draw out your six most trusted Pokemon." Trodaire said. Steven complied, and threw six Poke balls. As soon as the light settled, Trodaire began his assessment. He was thankful to recognize all of them: Metagross, Aggron, Excadrill, Armaldo, Cradily, and Claydol. Each of them incredibly powerful Pokemon on their own. But none of them capable of moves that would easily take down a dragon. Also, they were big and strong Pokemon, and they were eying him with suspicion. Steven spoke to them.

"Guys, this is Trodaire. He's here to help us compete in the World Tournament. Anything he says is to be treated as something I would say, unless otherwise indicated. Understood?" He asked. The six Pokemon all respectfully nodded, and then proceeded to respectfully give their full attention to Trodaire. Trodaire at that moment felt an immeasurable power in his hands. He cleared his throat.

"Ok. You heard your trainer. I'm here to help you compete. Which means I'm here to help you win. Your master didn't say it, but I know that's what you all really want to do. No champion's team wants to finish the race. You want to finish it FIRST. Correct?" He asked. Steven and his Pokemon nodded in the affirmative. Cynthia and Paulie were struck by how commanding Trodaire was. The gym master continued.

"You all know who you're facing. Lance, the champion of the Kanto branch of the Pokemon League. This region, to be precise. And he trains dragons. Ever faced a dragon before?" He asked. All six Pokemon shook their heads. Trodaire cleared his throat.

"To beat a dragon, you need speed…you don't have it." He said, looking each Pokemon directly in the eye. "And purely based on your biology, none of you have high potential for lateral movement. So that means heavy running is out. And again based on your biology, none of you are particularly good at counterstriking. So sparring is out."

"Then what do we have?" Steven asked a little testily. His Pokemon looked like they agreed. Trodaire's dangerous smile, however, allayed their fears.

"The one thing you do have to rely on, and as a native of Orre is music to my ears, is good old fashioned blunt. Force. Trauma. Horsepower. Heavy-duty, cast-iron, pile-driving shots that'll hurt so bad it'll rattle those dragons' ancestors! Every time they take one of your shots-" He smacked his fist into his palm. "-It's gonna feel like they tried kissing the Goldenrod Express!"

As he cracked his knuckles, every being in that gym felt the same excitement he was conveying. And when Trodaire spoke again, they all believed there was a chance.

"Yeah…Let's start building some hurtin' bombs!"

A/N: A hell of a challenge. A hell of a team. A hell of training is about to begin.