Riven was sprawled out on the bed, mouth hanging open, snoring lightly. Mischief was to his left, Aine had fallen to the floor in the middle of the night but didn't wake up. Riven groaned when he felt something fluffy against his right hand. "Uhhhh…is….go…away." He moved his hand in a swatting motion. The fluffiness retreated for a moment, only to return once again. He felt a light breathing on his right hand. Then he swatted it away, hitting something.

White Queen was at the foot of the bed, trying to wake up her stupid human. She appeared to be annoyed. Well, it was common for her anyway but she was still annoyed. She tried the gentle approach but Riven just swatted her nose away. Narrowing her eyes, she called out to him. "Absol." No response. She tried again, this time louder. "Absol." Nothing. She got fed up and drew in a breath. "ABSOL!" An ice beam accidentally hit a lamp in the background and froze it, which fell over and shattered.

"WHAT THE FU-" Riven's heart jumped in his chest. That shattering sound scared him straight out of his sleep and he flailed around like a Magikarp before falling right off the bed, crashing down into Aine, earning him a squawk and a clawed foot to the kidneys. He recovered painfully after the Combusken kicked him off and stood up, looking down at the broken lamp, covered in ice. Riven turned his scowl back to the right side of the bed and saw guilty red eyes staring back at him. His Absol looked like a Stantler caught in the headlights.

"I'm going to have to pay for that aren't I? But I'm up, just like you wanted. For hell's sake, White Queen. Can't you ever try waking me up in a way that doesn't hurt me directly or indirectly?"

She buried her head in her paws. White Queen then tugged on his pants with her teeth. She was pulling him towards something, probably something she wanted him to see. He rubbed morning grogginess out of his eyes, then stretched and yawned loudly. "Want to show me something?" She tugged harder. "Alright. Slow down. I'm coming." She led him over to the living room, where a canvas sat in the middle of the room. He looked at the painting and snorted.

It was a portrait of her. Because of course it was.

Irene painted her on a rock, looking towards a setting sun, all regal and dignified in complete contrast to her actual personality. Riven quickly saw why White Queen liked it so much. She struck the pose in the picture primly, drawing another snicker from her trainer.

"Waking me up for this should be a crime, you know. Mostly because it's incorrect. You look way too dignified in that."

"Sol! Sol!" White Queen protested, growling. And struck the pose again, as if showing him that she could, in fact, look majestic. Riven wasn't buying it though, examining the strewn about art supplies on the floor. and ignoring his posturing Absol.

"So that's what you and Irene were doing up so late last night." Then he noticed a foot. He stepped to the side and peered behind the canvas. Irene was sleeping peacefully on the floor, still holding some brushes. She had an apron on that was smeared with paint; a brush stained orange was pressed into her right cheek, which naturally had left an orange smear on Irene's face when it had been fresh. Riven wasn't sure whether to nudge her awake or carry her to her bedroom to sleep on a proper bed. That position would leave her neck aching when she woke up.

But that presented a dilemma that seventeen year old Riven had not encountered before.

On one hand, carrying her to her room would be awkward. And two, this was Amy's mom, he should be respectful. It would be very, very hard to explain if her husband walked in suddenly. Or someone else did. Or she woke up mid carry and asked what the blazes he thought he was doing. He grimaced uncomfortably at the thought, wide-eyed in horror. Best not to chance it. Instead, he left her on the floor, she looked comfortable there anyway. At least until she woke up with a neck stiffer than an oak tree.

Avoiding that particular situation, Riven took out some food for his pokemon and served them their formula. They started to dislike it as of late, mostly because they'd been getting used to eating human food more often than not. Formula was probably the pokemon equivalent of hard bread and rations, honestly, if he was thinking in human terms. He could see why that would get old quickly. Too bad, simple food and rations were all he ate anyway. The good stuff was either too expensive, unavailable, or went bad fairly quickly. Having been a soldier for so long he didn't mind it too much. His pokemon were getting spoiled from the city food for sure. He'd have to fix that quickly or their next excursion into the wilderness would be full of whinging.

As for him, he nibbled on a piece of dried meat and some bread he bought in the market some time ago. Despite standing in the middle of a house, he was afraid to dig through Irene's kitchen. He remembered how he set the kitchen on fire in Slateport. That was a proper disaster, which would also then bring some truth to her joke about her kitchen and house spontaneously combusting if he repeated it. And his wallet would definitely not be laughing after he saw the bill. The lamp was bad enough.

Just as he was about to finish his last piece of meat, Irene woke up. Riven was on the couch next to her, lazily chewing on a piece of meat like a run of the mill Miltank."You're finally up. Overworked yourself there didn't you?" Irene stared at him before realizing how disheveled and unkempt she looked. Her face turned tamato red and she shot up on her feet.

"OH I'M SORRY! YOU MUST BE SO HUNGRY! I'LL MAKE YOU SOMETHING…JUST LET ME GET FIXED UP. I LOOK LIKE CRAP!" She stormed off into her room. She came back a few minutes later, looking a bit more presentable without the frazzled hair and painted smear mark on her cheek.

Women sure loved to look their best. Men didn't really give a damn. Most of the male trainers Riven saw at the pokemon centers had a permanent case of bed hair, scraggly facial hair, or severely wrinkled clothes. Some barely showered, and man did they smell like it. The girls were the only ones who didn't look like they wrestled with the sheets provided they had a day with the center's showers.

Come to think of it, he might be a little scruffy himself. Riven's hair was always straight down and really low maintenance, which was good since he didn't have to worry about fixing it so much. Not that he would bother much anyway, since it was growing longer and longer. Luckily, Irene didn't much care about it. She understood enough.

Irene yawned and started cooking something after having pulled some things out of the fridge. Riven stood behind her, curiously watching her cook. He wanted to learn, so he wouldn't set another kitchen on fire the next time he tried his hand at any sort of culinary endeavor. Survival food was a whole different beast than actual cooking, especially when it came to complicated things like baking and stuff. His initial attempt wasn't that bad, or so he originally thought. All he did was put aluminum foil inside this microwave thing, that didn't mean it had to go and explode. How was he supposed to know that it would explode if he did that, he pushed some buttons and then boom. Not his fault, nobody told him not to do that!

Meanwhile he was reminiscing about his abysmal attempts at civilian employment, Irene was starting to get uncomfortable with him looming over her. "Gray. Can you not stand behind me? It gets me nervous. Amy does it all the time, I don't need you doing it too." She poked him with a finger in the chest, he was a bit bony.

"Oh. Of course." He stepped away and sat down at the table instead, twiddling his thumbs. He didn't have anything to do, so he resorted to rolling around White Queen's pokeball on the table while he watched her admire herself in the painting. Amazing how she could stare at herself so much. The food was ready some time later, he stared at it like a hungry Houndour. "What is it?" It looked good, but he never had it before.

Irene looked confused, what kind of child didn't recognize egg when it stared at him in the face? "Scrambled egg and buttered bread. Never tried it before?" He shook his head. "Have you been living under a Geodude your whole life?" She crossed her arms, giving Riven an incredulous stare.

"Yes," he replied in a condescending tone.

"Really?" Irene tried not to smirk.

Riven gave her the flattest look he could muster.

Irene chuckled. She was pulling his leg, he was so serious that it was essentially impossible not to mess with him. Irene could just imagine what kind of conversations he had with Amy. Or lack of conversation. Her daughter had a motor mouth at the best of times. She giggled thinking about it.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Oh nothing, just thinking about something highly unlikely."

Gray shrugged and started to eat. He was glad he was eating something other than dried meat, it got old quickly. He finished his plate in minutes; in fact, it took more time for Irene to make it than for him to devour it. He was embarrassed to ask for more, awkwardly fiddling his thumbs like a kid instead of a teenager nearing adulthood. Irene gently flicked him on the head, laughing.

"You can ask for more. I can tell you're hungry, besides, you're not a ten year old boy and training is hard on the body when you don't eat enough. You need more calories than a little egg and bread. Don't be afraid to ask, okay?" Sheesh, it was like talking to one of Amy's friends back when she was still in school. Gray didn't seem familiar talking to other people at all. He was very awkward and stiff, like he hadn't spoken to a girl in a very, very, long time. Or possibly ever. She muttered "boys" under her breath and shook her head. Trainers often did seem to grow up very awkward in general-probably all that time they spent alone with their teams instead of socializing.

Making him seconds, Gray eagerly took the plate and seemed to genuinely enjoy the food. Irene watched him eat, smiling.

He was kind of adorable. Like an oversized six foot tall puppy. Plate done, Gray clasped his hands together and bowed.

"Thank you. The food was great."

She responded by reaching over the table and patting him on the head. He went scarlet in embarrassment, prompting mischievous laughter from the older woman. Riven sighed and let her have her fun.

Irene was very motherly, even though she still looked very young for her age. It was something Riven never experienced with his mother, she was always too busy to deal with him, or he was always caught up in lessons. He grimaced, he never really spent much time with his parents now that he thought about it. The thought was depressing. Riven shook his head, he didn't want to think about that right now. It didn't matter.

He talked with Irene for some time, then left around noon to go buy a bicycle. As pleasant as Irene was, he had to continue on. He did promise to check up on Amy though, and that he'd return for a full portrait with him and his pokemon. Some day. She hugged him good-bye and Riven couldn't help but smile. If only he had this as a kid, then maybe he would have turned out differently. But the world was different then, just like it was now. All he could do was adjust and hope that nothing felt like killing him anytime soon. With luck, it would lay off for a few days, then come back and bite him in the ass in a week or two.

Riven arrived in front of a shop with bicycles of all different assortments and colors outside. Trainers came in and out of the store, holding onto their own.

They must be a serious relief for the legs. Sword wounds have nothing on bloody blisters.

Swords, arrows, claws, and teeth could be avoided. Sweat and friction destroying the soles of your feet on a long march was a bit more difficult. And blisters just sucked in general.

He stepped inside, unsure of what bike he wanted. He looked around-all of the bikes were under five thousand-which was a good thing. He could afford it. As Riven was looking around, a particular bike caught his eye. It was a silver color and had thin wheels, and a sleek frame as well. It looked appealing: lightweight, aesthetically pleasing, and ergonomic . A store helper noticed what he was looking at.

"Ah, that's a GX 135. Fastest Mach bike model available, only true speed demons get that. Scares the pants off casuals any day, I only recommend it for serious bikers and danger seekers. You can go up to 50 mph at full blast. And it can even handle rougher terrain too, not just for paved roads like most of the non-trainers prefer. I can see you're eyeing it, you sure you can handle it?"

"It looks nice. And fast is good. Faster means less time wasted, and less blisters." Being the most efficient as possible was the best option in every situation. It got things done. He hated being slow. This was also a reason why he hated shopping malls in the current time. People walked so damn slow, he felt like stabbing everything in a five foot radius when he had to shuffle behind slow walkers(teenage girls especially irked him, they formed walls to impede passage, something that irritated him beyond belief). Cities were troublesome.

"Fair, trainers do have it bad with those. Okay then, but I will warn you. It's hard to stop once you get going, if you're not careful, you could hurt yourself. We aren't liable for any damages if you get brain damage or a broken arm or something. I suggest wearing a helmet, regardless of how many cool points it subtracts from you with the ladies."

Riven almost sneered. Good thing his luck with the ladies was already garbage. Couldn't lose what you didn't have, right? The thought was insanely sad, but Riven barely cared about that, being too excited for getting a slick set of wheels of his own. He had never rode a bicycle before. He saw the cyclist road when he was having his panic fit a week and a half ago. That wasn't pleasant but he recalled that those bikers were zooming by like lightning, which looked enticing-kind of like surfing did at first. Of course when Brawly tried to teach him how to surf all it did was lead to one too many dunks in the water, until a Sharpedo bit his board in half in annoyance when he accidentally hit a baby Carvanha. He didn't go back in the water after that. He felt like keeping his legs, thank you.

Exiting the store with his shiny new bike, he got on it to ride. Then proceeded to fall multiple times. Each time eliciting more colorful variants of the word fuck and adding more scrapes to his collection.

Other trainers laughed at him, a nearly fully grown teenager was embarrassing himself by being unable to ride a bike. Even the little shits were poking fun at him.

It irritated him immensely and he spent the entire afternoon teaching himself to ride until he was able to control the damn thing. He had no idea it was that hard to balance on two wheels, but it got remarkably easier once he was able to. What followed was Riven speeding throughout Mauville, having a blast. He was shooting through the city, watching stores and people becoming blurs, traveling along with cars and other cyclists. This was fantastic, now he knew why cyclists went rabid over this sort of thing, the feeling of the wind howling past his ears as he zoomed by and maneuvered around obstacles at high speed was nothing short of pure, unbridled freedom.

After speeding through Mauville, he found himself on the same clearing he had been in the first day after his freak out. Except this time, he was actually thrilled. He still didn't have a purpose, but hell if riding a bike wasn't damn fun.

The next day came and he eagerly rode his bike along route 111. Riven was stopped multiple times by a few trainers, who stood out on the routes waiting for challengers. According to the trainers in the centers, it was a fairly common strategy. Riven found it boring though, he liked being on the move-dawdling was a waste of time. He lost to an ace trainer who had a bird pokemon and a Ludicolo, as well as a Sableye. He made a mental note of working towards an electric or grass type. Flying types and water types shut down Aine magnificently and ghosts and darks beat Mischief pretty easily. White Queen had a significantly better time facing them but had very little type advantages over them, aside from the ice beam doing twice as much damage to the Swellow. He had taught his Kirlia thunderbolt, which would be useful in dealing with birds and water pokemon. However, an electric type would be preferable, and there was no way he was catching an Electrike after Grumpy. He was going to have to find one elsewhere. Oh, and the Magnemite line bored the hell out of him, Riven didn't want one of those.

Although, he did slightly regret teaching Mischief thunderbolt. The little bastard would often shock him for fun, giving him playful but annoying zaps to make him jump. Mischief got quite a kick from it too. He returned him when the shocks irritated him enough, he would let him out when he battled next-served the little fucker right. Riven didn't encounter many trainers after he beat a couple others along the route, considering the landscape become more like a valley in between two mountainous areas. Passing through the valley on his bike, he failed to notice a little figure out a ways ahead of him.

"Use rock tomb!" Riven heard, wondering where it came from. He looked to the sides before noticing a chunk of rock jet out from the ground in front of him. He couldn't halt fast enough and his bike collided with the rock, ejecting him from the seat and sending him flying onto the ground ahead. He rolled quite a bit before coming to a stop, managing not to split his head open on the road. His clothes were now stained and dirty, his exposed arms had some pretty nasty scrapes and a rock had cut his cheek during the tumble. Riven groaned in pain and picked himself up, unsure of what just happened. His vision was a blur and could only make out a small shape advancing towards him. It looked like a kid.

"Ugh…what the…?"

"Ah! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I d-didn't mean to do that!" The little boy stammered, aware that the attack and collision could have seriously harmed the older boy. He saw the scrapes on his arms-which were bleeding and coated in dirt-before freaking out.

Riven shook his head and focused his eyes, getting a good look of the little devil that caused him to crash. The kid had medium length black hair under a red hat with a pokeball logo and a red jacket. The boy's eyes were a light shade of red and he was tannish, probably due to the region's climate. Southern Hoennite. Riven noticed that he was getting darker too, most notably his arms. Riven stared at the boy in a dull, dazed stare before realization loomed within him.

"Wait. I know you." The little boy stiffened and he drew in a nervous breath. Riven narrowed his eyes before his face contorted with part bitterness and part absolute disdain. "You're the one that blew up my room with your Quilava!" Riven spat, nearly acidic. The little trainer's red eyes gazed at the floor for a moment before retreating a safe distance away. Riven wasn't going to hurt him, yet. He needed to assess the damage before deciding whether to break the child or not. He had standards but frankly, this was bullshit.

"I'm sorry! Nez was just practicing a TM move and then you came really fast and then you crashed and you rolled! I freaked out and I thought you died so I came running and I'm sorry!" The little boy was frantic and he definitely wasn't lying. He genuinely looked concerned. Scowling, Riven changed his mind reluctantly and decided that the boy wasn't entirely at fault.

At least the bike was okay.

That is until he turned back to see his shiny, speedy, and utterly amazing bike completely and utterly destroyed. His jaw hit the floor before his soul left his body. Not the damn bike. Why the bike? Please god.

Riven went on a five minute tirade full of ground punching, rock punting and copious usage of the word fuck. He had just gotten that bike yesterday and had already decided it was the best thing since smoothies. Now it was destroyed beyond repair. The wheels were smashed, the handle bars were twisted and the frame's metal had contorted into a bundle of warped metal and aluminum tubing. First Petalburg and now his GX135? Oh no, this kid is very dead. Riven stormed back in the boy's direction, causing said boy to freeze in mortification. The look in his brown eye was downright vicious.

"You will pay me." Riven demanded, pointing to the top of a cliff above them. "Because if you don't, I will have my Kirlia teleport you up there, drop you and watch you become a red splatter on the floor. Then I'll let the Murkrow feast on your corpse you little fucking menace!" Riven was seething, practically breathing dragon fire at this point.

The little trainer instantly pulled out a wad of cash and held it out. "H-h-how much was the b-b-ike?" His hand was shaking but he still managed to hold eye contact with the outraged trainer.

"Four thousand five hundred," Riven answered coldly. This was a lie of course, the bike was sold to him at three thousand, due to a discount for coming from Littleroot. Extra cash didn't hurt, and the kid owed him for incinerating half of his room back in Petalburg. The boy counted the money and Riven snatched it away with a growl. "Control your pokemon," he spat.

Fucking kids.

He turned on his heel and walked off, further towards the end of the valley. He became annoyed when he heard a lighter patter of shuffling feet behind him. He stopped and whirled around to see the small boy and his Nuzleaf behind him, the former shaking in terror. The Nuzleaf just looked confused, and not at all intimidated. Maybe it's because humans didn't scare pokemon, usually.

"Why are you following me? Leave me alone."

"I'm not following you! I need to get to the desert too!" The destructive little boy huffed in response, crossing his arms. "It's not like you own the route!"

Riven cursed under his breath. "How do you plan on getting through the desert then?"

"There's a guy that takes us through if we pay him. He has a truck." The little boy edged around Riven and started to walk ahead of him, eyeing him warily.

Riven practically glared daggers into the kid's head every second of the way. The boy kept yelling at him to stop staring at him that way and also kept apologizing for Petalburg occasionally, but stopped after he got fed up with Riven's poisonous gaze. His Nuzleaf started playing his leaf, which annoyed Riven and prompted him to send out Aine, which blew out a puff of flame to shut him up. Then both trainers started arguing, their pokemon started arguing, they almost fought, and both parties were left exceedingly annoyed with one another. The boy seemed to completely forget about fear at this point, basically daring Riven to do something to him.

"You're a bully!"

"You're a walking disaster area!"

"I should report you to the police!"

"I should throw you off a cliff!"

"Shut it rag face! You're annoying!"

"Listen here you little sh-"

Riven and the little kid were interrupted by an amused older man next to his truck. He'd been watching them go at it for over five minutes now.

"So, you two kids gonna get in or am I just standing here like a fool? We gotta go! You know the fee, since both of you headed this way. Ya might also want to stock up on some water and supplies 'fore we go. Desert is unforgiving. I'll give you both a ride back to town for the supply run, no extra charge." Both trainers glared at each other before begrudgingly handing over one thousand for the ride through the desert. They got in one last growl before hopping into the back of the truck with a canvas covering. They drove into town and picked up some supplies and protective clothing before heading back up to route 111 and exiting into the desert. They also both realized they had done this together.

"I hate you," The little boy said.

"Oh, don't worry, the feeling is mutual," Riven countered back.

They exchanged quips back and forth, scaring a girl in her mid teens next to them that had joined the trip while in town. She thought they were about to tear each other apart before they abruptly stopped. Then they began exchanging names in a way that felt like they were pointing knives at each other instead..

Riven started first. "What's your name, devil spawn?"

"Will. What's yours, the Grinch?"

"Gray, like the ashes of your body after I burn it in a fire pit."

"Like your room in Petalburg?"

"I'll cut you."

"You want another rock tomb? Maybe this time you'll land head first!"

"Not unless you want a seriously nasty case of frostbite. My Absol has no qualms about putting people in their place."

"I guess it hasn't found yours yet, a prison."

"The only time I'll go to prison is after they find your mangled body and I'm standing over it."

"Then you'll rot in prison, like you should be."

Both trainers snarled, nearly coming to blows. The boy was surprisingly snarky. He also stopped apologizing and actually expressed joy at torching his room, just to spite him. Riven could respect the boy's quick comebacks and defiance in the face of a larger enemy. But he still destroyed his bike. Which meant no mercy. Silence fell as both trainers crossed their arms and turned away, falling asleep.

The next day, both of them were talking about their hometowns in the usual manner of knife-edged sarcasm. They were a day and half into the desert and Wurmple girl wished desperately she had some headphones and some tunes to drown out their arguments.

"Where are you from?" Riven asked, glaring at the boy while eating some sweet bread(courtesy of Irene). The kid was eating a sandwich, which he bit into rather viciously.

"Slateport." He responded, mouth full of food, reddish eyes narrowed. He chewed slowly and loudly, clearly trying to piss the older trainer off.

"Littleroot."

"My cousin lives there. She said it's boring and the people are boring. All of them." He faked a cough. Was that a sly shot at him?

"And I've been to Slateport. It's full of snotty and irritating people. Reminds me of certain individuals," Riven hissed, looking straight into Will's eyes.

Then their insult matches came back, completely ignoring the girl next to them, terrified to even interject. Working up her courage, she piped up slightly. "Guys, can you please-"

"NO. Shut up!" Both trainers yelled in unison, pointing at each other. She cowered in the corner, her Wurmple mirroring her position in her lap.

Suddenly, a loud boom was heard and the entire truck pitched forward. The truck screeched to a halt and the window panel opened up in front of them. The driver turned back to them. "Ah, shit. Tires are shot. Stay here, I'm gonna check it out." The trainers sat in the back, waiting a few minutes for him to return. He appeared at the rear of the vehicle, looking into the canvas covered back. "Bad news kids. Some son of a bitch pokemon used stealth rock in the middle of the damn road, now the front wheels are completely gone. I got a bird that can carry two of us back to Mauville, then I can get help."

Oh, Riven didn't like this in the slightest. He knew something downright shitty would happen soon, he just didn't know what it would be. But since this was in a desert, it was going to be ten times worse than the norm. It was a guarantee, he knew nothing was going to go according to plan. Multitudes of failed plans rang in the back of his head. Those never ended well, and included gigantic servings of improvisation to work out. Scyther? Alright, kill them and you might survive. You're stuck in the desert? Better hope you're not shit out of luck. And you better hope you have enough water with you.

"So, whose gonna come wit' me?" Both Riven and Will raised their hands, then the girl did as well. The trucker passed over Will and Riven completely, maybe because they'd been bickering the entire way, taking the poor girl's hand instead. "Ladies first, need to remember chivalry guys! I'll be back in a day, stay here and keep hydrated!" He summoned a Pidgeot and he flew off, leaving the two male trainers standing next to the damaged truck, mouths agape. They didn't even get a glance! What a dick! The girl waved sheepishly at them, unknowingly rubbing in the injustice.

Riven and Will stood out in the desert heat, squinting into the distance at the retreating silhouette of a Pidgeot, utterly betrayed, before slowly turning to each other. They exchanged looks of disgust. Yes, things just got worse and they certainly weren't going to get better any time soon. Both of them looked up at the sky, felt the pounding desert sun, and cursed loudly.

"Fuck! I had to get stuck here with you!" Both of them said the exact same thing, annoyance rising.

"Stop copying what I say!"

"You copied me!"

"Arguing with a damn kid... Son of a bitch. Whatever, let's just get inside and wait," Riven replied, rolling his eyes and climbing inside the truck.

Will climbed in with a scowl before sitting down. Both trainers peeked out at the desert behind them. It looked like a very long way back without a bird or a ride, and with the harsh sun out and no cover or shelter... not a good trek at any rate. The sweltering air distorted the view of the road, both trainers unable to see the cliffs that marked the exit of the route to Mauville. They were miles into the desert and it would take more than a day for the trucker to return. But both of them had a feeling that no one would come back. They just hoped it wasn't right. Bad thing about gut feelings?

They usually were.