A/N: I own a copy of at least one game from every Generation, but that's about it.
TRODAIRE
The mood was tense in the gym. Everyone was staring at Trodaire, who was standing in the middle of the boxing ring just like he always did, although this time there was an abnormally serious air about him. He was looking past everyone in the gym, and was staring directly at Aggron.
"I don't have anything to say that could sugarcoat the truth, so I'm just going to cut right to the chase, big guy." He said. "Your job is the hardest out of everyone here. Armaldo probably has the edge in his match because of experience and the fact that Haxorus isn't going to like getting slammed into the ground over and over again. Excadrill is tricky, but he's got the claws to hang onto Salamence if the thing takes to the air. But you…you're going up against perhaps the single most famous Pokemon in the Pokemon League. For some perspective, there aren't any Aggron action figures and t-shirts that they sell at match apparel shops. Your foe is Lance's Dragonite. The Dragonite that once went up against a 18-Pokemon gauntlet of the Kanto Pokemon League for a charity match that ended up turning into must-see TV. The Dragonite that knocked out Cynthia's Garchomp in one punch."
Cynthia looked a little bit embarrassed by that last one, but didn't say anything. You can't argue against the truth. Trodaire shrugged apologetically, and then continued talking.
"It's fast, it's powerful, and it is near-legendary. And your job is to beat it. One on one. In an officially sanctioned Pokemon League match, where the world is watching. Oh, and it has never lost before so if you do beat it there may be rioting in some areas of the world. So, y'know, no pressure or anything." He said. Steven had an annoyed look on his face.
"Ok, Trodaire, what's the deal? Why are you telling Aggron all of this? Are you trying to psyche him out?" He demanded. Trodaire shook his head.
"On the contrary, Steven. I'm trying to dispel any illusions he might have of this being an easy fight. It's going to be the hardest thing that he's ever done. Bar none. But in overly simplifying the fight itself, I in turn make the solution to the fight simplified as well." He said. Steven raised an eyebrow.
"And how do you propose to do that?" He asked. Trodaire grinned.
"Simple. Aggron? You know how you're going to beat Dragonite?" He asked.
Aggron shrugged, and then looked expectantly. Trodaire grinned some more.
"You're going to punch it." He said proudly.
There was a long, awkward pause. Cynthia spoke up.
"Seriously? We've paid the fees for this gym for about two months now, and the best you can come up with for beating Dragonite is punching it?" She asked incredulously. Steven put a hand on her shoulder.
"Easy, Cynthia. Relax…" He said. Then he turned to Trodaire. "Seriously, Trodaire? Punching it?"
Even Aggron seemed a little confused. Trodaire was just laughing.
"Sometimes the best solutions are the ones that are the most simple." He said. "In this case, your best bet for beating Dragonite is luring it in close…and then hitting it like a runaway freight train. Paulie! What was Aggron's most recent PSI counter reading?" He asked. From inside the receptionist office, Paulie's annoyed voice rang out through the door.
"Aggron clocked in at about 5251, Troddie!" He shouted. Trodaire shrugged as if to prove his point.
"See? You can punch really hard, big guy. And if there is one weakness, one, that Lance's Dragonite has, it is that it is really not a fan of getting punched in the face. Or taking any other sort of blunt force trauma." He reasoned. Now Steven and Cynthia were relaxed a little bit more, though they were still a little bit miffed that Trodaire was being so flippant about this training exercise.
"Okay, so Aggron is supposed to punch Dragonite in the face. Or just anywhere that he can. The question is, how is he going to do that? Dragonite is not just going to stand there and let its jaw hang out for a free shot, Trodaire." Steven pointed out. Trodaire nodded.
"Excellent point, Steven. No one is willing to let someone punch them in the face voluntarily, unless they're crazy or have used Harden about fifteen freaking times in a row." He gestured to the suspended contraption that they had used with Excadrill the previous day. "That's why we're going to use Dragonite's favored tactic against it: its speed." He said. Conkeldurr had hooked up one of the weighted heavy bags to the suspender ropes, and then sauntered off. Clapping, Trodaire gestured to the contraption once more.
"What have you got planned this time, Trodaire?" Steven asked. The Orrean smiled.
"Dragonite loves to take to the air, and utilize moves like Giga Impact to smash its foes head-on by hitting them in the chest like a speeding bullet. So what we're going to do is simulate that situation! Big guy, we've reconfigured the bucking bronco board of doom into a swinging battering ram of pain!...because I don't really know how to think of creative names for anything that I make, but that's besides the point! We're going to lift the battering ram up into the air, and then let it swing down towards you. This simulates the swooping dive that Dragonite makes before it unloads a world of hurt. So what we'll be doing is unloading the world of hurt first! When it is about to hit you, you're gonna punch at it as hard as you can and send the thing flying back up! You're hitting it before it hits you. Make sense?" He asked.
Aggron nodded.
Trodaire blew a whistle, and Conkeldurr lifted the battering ram up into the air. Aggron stood in the center of the ring, and with a deep breath planted its feet and barked out a noise indicating its readiness. With that, the battering ram was released. As it descended down towards the Steel type, it scowled and curled its hand into a fist. Rearing back, it let the punch fly as soon as it deemed it the time to do so.
WHAM.
The battering ram was sent flying back into the air, before it came back down again for another round. Again, Aggron reared back and smashed the battering ram in the safe padded area. It was sent flying again, but not as high up. As it swung down, Aggron repeated the process, this time switching hands so as to avoid hurting itself. With each punch of descending strength, the arc that the battering ram took lessened and lessened, until it was barely moving, and Aggron collapsed against it, nearly pulling the thing down with its weight. Trodaire blew a whistle.
"That's it! Paulie, get Aggron some ice!" He shouted. He grabbed Aggron's face and made the massive Pokemon look him directly in the eye. "Just like that big guy. Just. Like. That. And Dragonite won't know what hit it!" He said.
Aggron winced, busy thinking about the aching pain it would feel in its knuckles the following morning. But for now, amongst the clapping and cheering of its teammates, master, master's special one, and coach, it felt proud of itself.
It felt good to be strong.
MISTY
She cornered him right outside of the Fight Club just as he was locking the door for the day. She had glanced at her watch in confusion: it was only about three o clock, so that meant that he had called it early for some reason. Not that that mattered, for now she had more time to focus on the task at hand.
Trodaire turned around to come face to face with Misty, and flinched badly.
"GAH! You girls need to stop doing that!" He said. He raised an eyebrow." Uh, what can I do for you Misty?" He asked. Misty didn't respond, instead grabbing his wrist forcefully. "Hey! Where are we goin-" Trodaire began to protest, before the Cerulean gym leader cut him off.
"Zip it! We're going to Celadon City and we are getting you something to wear!" She said authoritatively. Trodaire was confused.
"B-but I'm already wearing something right now!" He whined. Misty stopped, looked at him in disbelief, and rolled her eyes. If Trodaire didn't know any better, he'd say that he could actually see part of her brain dying from listening to him.
"You cannot be that freaking stupid." Misty said. "The gala in a week. The one that Sabrina so kindly asked you to go to. Remember that?" She asked testily. Trodaire dumbly nodded. "So, Romeo, do you have something to wear?" She asked again. Trodaire was about to speak again, until Misty cut him off once more. "Nope, don't even bother. I know that you didn't prepare for this and that you do not have anything that matches the level of apparel required for a fancy black tie event. So we're going shopping. Now."
"Bu-but I can't afford any of this!" Trodaire said. "Even with Steven and Cynthia's payments I'm barely staying ahead of the bills! This'll ruin my savings account!" He said. Misty sighed.
"You're a moron, Trodaire. I'm paying for this. Get it?" She asked. Before Trodaire could say anything to the contrary, Misty once again interrupted his train of thought before it left the station. "I'm a girl, it's what we do. Besides, if you looked at the price tag that we're about to run up, you'd have a stroke anyway. So this is better if I'm the one that does the heavy lifting, got it?" She asked. Trodaire knew better than to argue, and with that Misty dragged him off to the Celadon City department store roughly twenty minutes away.
TRODAIRE
This was perhaps the worst thing that he had ever been a part of. He'd gotten into a street fight or two back home in Orre, and compared to what he was dealing with right now those would've been welcome breaks from the horror that he was currently being subjected to. For hours upon hours it felt like (though Misty had snidely told him that in reality it was only closer to about 20 minutes apiece) he was standing up on boxes in the middle of overly-classy designer stores being fitted for a tuxedo and tie. He'd never even seen people wearing tuxedoes in Orre. In fact, it was almost a running joke to insult someone's masculinity by claiming that they'd look good in a tux. Trodaire had been witness to (and taken part in) at least several barroom brawls that had been started over such a slight. And yet here he was listening to some little old lady prattle in his ear how this tuxedo would make him look so handsome, honey! Dearie, I could just eat you up! He glared over at Misty, who was sitting on a bench and snapping photos on her phone. They made eye contact, and the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.
This is payback for what you did to us during the self-defense seminar.
This was perhaps the worst day of his life.
MISTY
This was perhaps the greatest day of her life.
TRODAIRE
After about three hours or so of hell, Misty led the weary Trodaire out of the last store, carrying a multitude of bags. She looked at him and winked.
"Have fun, Trodaire?" She asked.
If looks could kill, Trodaire would have supermurdered her with that stare of his. Instead, Misty just smiled and led him back to Saffron. When they arrived in front of the Fight Club, Misty cleared her throat to get his attention.
"Listen, bub. I don't know if you realize this, but Sabrina has never, ever asked anyone to one of these galas in the history of ever. It's either been me or Erika setting her up with some loser that she ends up complaining about the day after, so needless to say you will be watched very, very carefully. And make no mistake, if you make her cry…I will make you cry." She pulled out a wooden mallet from absolutely nowhere and waved it threateningly in Trodaire's face. He was too scared by the look on her face to question the logical impossibility of her carrying a wooden mallet that he hadn't seen up until that point. So he just dumbly nodded.
"Uh huh, sure." He said. Then Misty's expression turned somewhat sad.
"Also, I've noticed something about you. You tend to get rather touchy about when people insult your heritage and where you're from. You're not going to have to worry about it from me, Erika, Sabrina, or the friends that we'll meet up with before we go to the gala as a big group…but we're not everyone. There will probably be a lot of people there that view Orreans as second-class people because of the state of affairs in your region, and there will be at least one off-color to borderline-racist joke made at your expense. Before you think about kicking the offending person's teeth in, remember that you're with Sabrina…and she feels like a freak around that crowd to begin with." She said. Trodaire looked confused.
"Why would she feel like a freak? She's, uh, pretty." He said. He didn't notice the triumphant gleam in Misty's eyes, but she continued to explain.
"For the longest time, Sabrina didn't have any friends. It was just her here hiding in the Saffron gym and kicking butt against anyone that stood up against her. Then Erika and I managed to be her friends, but there are still people who think that we're just being nice and aren't actually her friends. Which is bullshit, but that's beside the point. Even now, people think that she's the weirdo psychic who can't get a date. So suffice it to say she's kind of nervous about this whole gala event herself. So please try to be on your best behavior." She finished. To her surprise, Trodaire nodded solemnly.
"I will." He said. Misty nodded, was about to turn around and walk away, but then stopped and said one last thing.
"If you tell her anything that I just said…well, actually I won't have to kill you because she'll do it first. See you at the gala!" She said cheerily, and then walked off. As she disappeared, the sun began to set, leaving a reflective and contemplative Trodaire in the twilight.
A/N: Next chapter is the big ol' event. We'll see how Mr. Phoenix handles his first time being around the champion (and the man he's supposed to help beat) Lance…fufufu…tune in next time!