A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
SABRINA
The buildup to the Silph. Co. Expo was exactly as she had expected it to be: boring and uninteresting. They were a bunch of old men in suits trading ideas and selling things that technically didn't exist yet, and yet people ate it all up. Sabrina scowled. She hated business tycoons. If she could have it her way then that stupid Silph. Co. would directly answer to her as well as the city council. But alas, the business world didn't work that way. She had tried, long ago, to bully them into letting her dictate the pace of things in Saffron, before they calmly and clearly explained to her that her attitude was making them think that Saffron City wasn't an inviting place for business, and if they were to leave there would literally be thousands of people out of a job and who would they blame? Sabrina wisely conceded this point that day, though her hope to get back at these crusty old men burned within her for a long time.
"Good afternoon, Madame Sabrina!" One of the elder board members said a little too pleasantly. "I hope you are ready for the Fighting Dojo's display this fine day."
"First off, it's called the Fight Club now." Sabrina replied curtly. "Second, I have made my opinion of this event clear in the past and under no circumstances is that going to change."
The businessman wisely chose to stay silent. But it was true. If there was one thing that Sabrina hated more than having to hold this annual reminder of the time she didn't get her way, it had to be that Trodaire had caused her to resurrect a silly tradition of entertainment for everyone visiting the Silph. Co. building. Closing her eyes, Sabrina could remember the blowhards in their gis shouting like wild animals while doing rudimentary martial arts such as breaking a board here or there or doing some fancy dance moves that Sabrina thought were more suited for poor attempts at wooing women, not fighting off attackers. She hated it and relished the fact that she had been able to disband it after wiping the floor with the Karate Master and his minions. Single-handedly.
That was what frustrated her the most though, she realized as she sat down in her chair to watch as Trodaire would take the stage. She had no idea what to expect from him. He wasn't one of those goofy "fighters". He was a legitimate fighter who had the potential to cause human beings serious harm, as witnessed by the way he'd effortlessly stomped Ritchie's deadbeat "friends" at the basketball courts a few days ago. That…concerned her. She didn't want to see what he was capable of when he was really angry. It made her wonder what exactly he had been doing, and what kind of life he was living in Orre before he'd wandered into Saffron.
She was interrupted from her musings when the crowd began to cheer. She looked up and saw that…Erika? There was her friend, dressed in an elaborate kimono, walking to the center of the mat that had been set up for the display. She was carrying a small stool in one hand, and a bottle in the other. She set the stool in the middle of the mat, and then placed the bottle on the top of the stool. From her vantage point, Sabrina could see that there was a label on it…Brand X? What was a bottle of alcohol doing in this display?
She calmed herself when she realized that Erika had made eye contact with her and had given a wink of reassurance, but that still didn't change the fact that Sabrina was livid with Trodaire for…whatever it was that he was about to do. And speaking of the devil, there he was. He was walking onto the mat, hands tucked into his hoodie, wearing a pair of black sweatpants to go with it. It was a shabby outfit, nowhere near the refined gi that a martial artist under the Karate Master would wear. There was a murmur amongst the crowd, clearly wondering who this guy was and what the heck was going to happen.
Trodaire walked up to the stool. He looked around, as if seeing if anyone was looking, before grabbing the bottle. He uncorked it, took a whiff as if to confirm that it was in fact alcohol, and then tipped back and began to drink. He continued to lean back…and back…and back…and back…and before anyone realized it, he had bent his body to a right angle, his stomach parallel to the ground. The crowd let out a startled yelp of excitement, and then Trodaire violently lurched forward, spitting out the drink in a ludicrously over-the-top fashion. He shook his head, making a pbpbpbpbpbpb noise with his lips, and then began to walk away…Or at least, he was trying to walk away. He was now walking in a manner similar to that of a man who was stupefyingly drunk. And yet, there was something graceful to the way he moved. Then suddenly, a straight front flip from a standing position, only to land right back on his feet. And more similar feats of acrobatics. Sabrina was stunned. She'd never seen a form of martial arts like this before, and judging by the wild cheering of the crowd, neither had anyone else in Saffron.
Then suddenly, there was the sound of a gong being struck. Sabrina glanced in the direction of the noise to see that Erika had struck it, with a cheeky grin on her powdered face. As if out of the blue, several men in elaborate gis broke out from the crowd and rushed the stage, surrounding the stumbling Trodaire. He looked confused, with a bleary sort of expression on his face, but then smiled. That was when Sabrina knew that the real show was about to begin.
Enraged (or pretending to be for the sake of the show), one of the men rushed him. Trodaire fell backwards, landing hard on the ground. The attacker didn't know what to do, and decided to stomp on the ground directly onto Trodaire's head. Big mistake. The fallen man rolled out of the way and sprang up like a spring was loaded onto his back, facing the attacker's exposed backside. With a flurry of strange-looking strikes, Trodaire sent the man flying face first into the mat.
Another man came running, intent on destroying the man who had harmed his friend. Trodaire backpedalled away from his foe, and then it appeared that he had tripped and fallen on his back. He landed on the ground hard, but when his attacker came too close WHAM. Trodaire planted a firm double-legged kick squarely in his foe's chest. The karateka was lifted off of the ground, and slammed hard onto the mat. Sabrina winced. Thank goodness they had that thing padded.
Two more attackers rushed Trodaire, intent on ganging up on him. As they threw punches, Trodaire spun his arms backwards like windmills, both parrying the blows while looking remarkably smooth doing it. The crowd was mesmerized, with even the crotchety businessmen who had only come for the monetary dealings staring with awe. Suddenly, Trodaire caught one of the attacker's arms. He ducked under it so that he ended up directly in front of the man (whilst still holding onto his arm), and by throwing his back backwards he knocked the man off of his feet. The third man attempted to rush Trodaire, throwing a wild haymaker. Trodaire appeared to stagger backwards out of the way, but in reality the showy dodge was a feint to hide his getting off to the side of the attacker (where the unprotected back side of his attacker's knees were), and with a sweep of his right leg he had kicked out the foe's feet and boom! Another poor soul was lying down on the ground. And so it went.
There was something magical about watching Trodaire go to work on these karatekas. It was fluid, it was smooth, it was…goofy. There was something familiar about it, the way Trodaire could pirouette and twist away from his foes to gain an advantageous position, followed by a flurry of brutal punches and kicks. Then it hit Sabrina. She had seen this before. This was just a more theatrical, unrestrained version of the beat down he had administered to Ritchie's friends. And yet she still figured that he was holding back somewhat.
Finally, after a few more minutes of almost comical fighting, Trodaire had planted the last guy onto the ground. There was a whistle, and he turned to see Erika fling him a bottle similarly marked. Trodaire caught it, sat down on the stool, and began to drink in earnest. It was then that Sabrina could see that he was sweating profusely. Another gong sounded, and the karatekas simultaneously got up and gave the crowd a bow.
The place went bonkers.
Sabrina didn't realize it, amongst the screaming cheers of the fans, but she was one of the loudest cheerers in the entire thing. At least she didn't realize it until she felt a slight tapping on her shoulder. She looked to see that same old businessman, eying her with a cagy grin. She immediately went back to a stoic position.
"What?" She asked, utilizing all of her meditative skills to keep a straight and bored expression. "It was good entertainment."
The businessman winked, and walked away. So he had caught the normally stoic Sabrina cheering like a little girl at a martial arts event, of all places.
For once in her life, Sabrina didn't give a damn. It was awesome to watch.
TRODAIRE
He'd somehow managed to stagger back to the Fight Club after much time resting and recovering in a small tent hidden at the far edges of the Expo's fairgrounds. It didn't matter how easy people thought that stuff looked, Drunken Boxing was HARD.
He hoped it was worth it.
PAULIE
"RISE AND SHINE, TRODDIE!" Paulie screeched as he burst through the door of the Fight Club. "I hope you had fun yesterday at the Silph. Co. Expo, but it's back to work today!"
"Go away Paulie…" came the pained reply. Paulie looked to see that Trodaire had fashioned a hammock in the rafters of the building, and judging by the way his arm dangled off of the side it was clear Trodaire was in a lot of pain. Paulie wasn't having it.
"Sweet staggering Staraptor, kid, you shoulda known bettah!" He shouted. "I told yas that that Zoo-ey Cuh-wan was gonna take a lot out of yah, but yehs didn't lissen ta ol' Paulie, did yas?"
"I'm not listening now, either…" Trodaire groaned. Paulie rolled his eyes.
"Well yeh'd better lissen now, lazy-bones! Dere's a story in dah paper you might find interestin': seems that ol' Lancey is feelin' mighty confident! He announced who he's using in three months!"
At this, Trodaire stumbled and promptly fell out of the hammock. Paulie winced as the young man landed hard on the mat below, and was thankful that A.) the hammock wasn't too high up and B.) that the boxing ring had a bit of bounciness. Trodaire groaned slightly, but then walked over to the edge of the boxing ring and leaned against the ropes.
"Isn't it kind of early for him to make such an announcement?" Trodaire asked. "And is Lance really that arrogant?" Paulie wrinkled his nose.
"Well, technically it ain't him doin' the talkin'. It's that cousin a' his, Clair, right? Anyways, she says that he's startin' his best three, and good night ta dah competition!" Paulie reached into his pocket, and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Yeh might need ta read it in da office: the light's bettah in dere."
Trodaire took the piece of paper, and walked through the door of the office and turned on the light. Paulie decided not to follow after him, and in hindsight this was a remarkably smart idea. The reason for this was not a second after he had entered the room did the metal wastebasket come flying out the door, striking the wall with a loud clang. Despite himself, Paulie couldn't resist.
"I'm guessin' you's not too happy with his decisions?" He asked snidely. Trodaire came back out, his face a good shade of crimson.
"Not at all! These are exactly the Pokemon I was hoping he was going to select!" He said. Paulie was confused.
"Wait a second. I thought you was upset about somethin'?" He asked. Trodaire nodded.
"It just means that Lance is feeding into that bullshit that Steven doesn't stand a prayer against the Dragon Master. I am SICK and TIRED of hearing about what a great damned Pokemon trainer Lance is. So is Steven! And come the World Tournament, we're gonna prove it!" Trodaire said. Paulie nodded.
"Good plan, Troddie." He said. He then had a bemused smirk on his face. "But I think yeh might wanna chill a bit, 'specially considerin' what yeh've got ta deal wit' today." He said. Trodaire had a blank expression on his face.
"What do I have to deal with today?" He asked. Paulie sniggered.
"Check your schedule, Troddie." He said. Trodaire had a confused expression on his face, but silently complied. Paulie did not follow, instead standing safely out of range and silently waiting for the sounds he was hoping to hear: first came the sound of Trodaire opening the cabinet next to the desk to find the calendar. Then came the soft noise of paper being flipped between an index finger and thumb. A pause. And then…
"AAAAUUUUUGGGHHHHH!"
SABRINA
"Now why exactly did you drag us into this, Sabrina?" Misty asked as the quartet of girls made their way to the Fight Club. "Wasn't half of the fun of self defense making fun of that creepy perv we had for an instructor?"
"Yeah, I mean why change now?" Whitney asked. "I was looking forward to doing nothing today. This guy that you found as a replacement seems like he means business!"
"Well, you did try to murder him for assuming that he was responsible for breaking your Miltank's arm." Misty said curtly. "How is she doing, by the way?"
"Buttercup? She's gonna be ready to do light exercises next week. I'm taking things slow with her so that she doesn't reinjure the joint. Nurse Joy recommended a cautious regimen." Whitney said. Their fourth partner, the gym leader from Fuchsia City, rolled her eyes.
"I still don't see why my uncle insisted that I do this sort of thing. I am a trained master of ninjutsu, which makes this entire foray completely pointless for me." Janine said acidly. Now it was time for Sabrina to give her two cents.
"Look, I don't like the fact that we have to do this sort of thing either, but Lance doesn't want anything happening to the gym leaders of Johto or Kanto, and at the very least it's a good workout." Sabrina said. She shrugged. "Besides, Trodaire knows what he's doing."
At this, there was a pause. Sabrina noticed that Misty was staring at her. With a look of both awe and smugness on her face. Sabrina cleared her throat to get Misty to stop staring.
"What's so funny?" She asked. Misty smirked.
"I think this is the first time that you've ever said his name, Sabrina." Misty said. "Every other time you've referred to him as 'that stupid kid from the Fight Club' or something equally derogatory. Got something to confess to us, sweetie?"
Sabrina responded by turning a deep flush of red, but didn't say anything as they opened the door to the Fight Club.
There was Paulie, sitting in a chair with a newspaper nearby the door. He saw the group of girls and smiled.
"Hiya, Miss Sabrina! Troddie's in the back preppin' for this 'self-defense' thingamagummy yeh've got him doin'. Hope yeh's have fun!" He said cheerily. Sabrina shrugged, and then led the other girls around the corner of the gym.
There was Trodaire, working that wooden dummy again like the last time Sabrina had seen him. Now, it appeared that he was hitting it much more violently than previously, as if he was bothered by something. When he turned around and saw the quartet of girls in front of him, Sabrina read his face and came to a startling conclusion: he had completely forgotten about this and was just now throwing something together at the last minute. She smirked a little bit. This was going to be fun.
"Hi there. You here for your 'self-defense' class?" Trodaire asked. The girls nodded, clearly letting him do the talking (to see if he'd slip up and say something stupid). He was aware of this too, however. "Awesome. Let's get to basics. Any of you have martial arts experience?"
At this, there was a scoffing noise, and Janine strode to the front of the group.
"Experience? I'll have you know that I am the niece of the great Ninja Koga, member of the Elite Four! I am Janine, and I am a Ninja!" She said proudly. At this, Trodaire made an exaggerated gasp.
"Koga?!" He said dramatically. "You're related to Koga?" He asked incredulously. Then suddenly, his expression flattened. "Never heard of him." He said.
There was an awkward pause.
"You've never heard of Koga?" Misty asked. "How can you never have heard of Koga?" Trodaire shrugged.
"I'm from Orre. Word doesn't get out that far about 'ninja masters.'" He said, using air quotes with his fingers to emphasize "ninja masters." At this, an infuriated Janine broke into a fighting stance.
"Then let me educate you, Orre street rat." She hissed.
When Janine called him that, Sabrina caught something in Trodaire's eyes. It was only there for a split second, but it was obvious to see (for someone with a trained eye like Sabrina's): rage. Janine had touched a nerve, and she didn't realize it.
"Janine, that wasn't very nic-" Whitney began to say, before Trodaire cut her off.
"No, she's right. I am just an Orre street rat. I'm a little punk from the dusty desert bowl of the world, where we all live in mud huts and steal from markets to get by. That's what you've heard of my home, right? Well, you know what I know about ninjas?" He asked, but Janine had already moved. She began to flip towards him in a series of cartwheels, intent on delivering a powerful ninja kick. Right before she approached him, Sabrina saw Trodaire smile. So she winced.
Trodaire lunged forward, catching Janine in mid-leap. The startled ninja master let out a yelp as Trodaire choke-slammed her to the ground, still holding onto her raised leg when she landed while resting his boot directly on her cheek.
"…It only takes one good hit to knock you the hell out." Trodaire said. He turned to the other girls. "I'm no champion, but I'm in the middle of training a former champ to take on a current champ. Fortunately for him, he's got an off day today. Unfortunately for you, that means that you have my undivided attention for this self-defense seminar. Welcome to Hell in the Cell with your friendly neighborhood coach, Trodaire Phoenix."
Sabrina's eyes caught his, and saw the mischievously evil glint in his eyes. She sighed.
This is gonna suck.
A/N: Hi guys! So not much plot advancement in this chapter, moreso just tying up a few loose ends mentioned in earlier segments. Hope you enjoyed the fight scenes as much as I enjoyed writing them. Speaking of fighting, I've been asked how Trodaire fights. I can answer that in two words: Jackie. Chan. Go on Youtube and watch some of Jackie Chan's best fight scenes, especially the Drunken Master films. So what I'm basically saying is that Trodaire is Jackie Chan. Why did I choose a slightly obscure form of martial arts? Because I think it fits Trodaire's whole "stranger in a strange land" motif that features him utilizing things that aren't very common in the rest of the world, and it further gives Orre a level of mystique (it's a criminally underdeveloped region, in my opinion). So of course he's gonna be a Drunken Boxer like Jackie Chan.
Okay, enough ranting on my part. I hope you enjoyed this latest edition and the next chapter will get back to the training of Steven Stone and his Steel types! R&R, please.