Chapter 30
LordVishnu
Not too sore, are you?
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Chapter 30
Slateport City, Public Park
Task failed successfully.
Oh so many weeks ago when I made my deal with Carter the gentleman Poké Breeder, I asked for Trapinch and Baltoy. That was my request.
I remember Carter's large grey moustache ruffling in concern at my words. I remember him speaking that he would need to work through a third party to get them. That desert biome Pokémon were not his usual specialty.
I'll reiterate once more.
Task failed successfully.
The two baby Pokémon dance along the pavement in front of me, playing some sort of game that only they know the rules to. Swinub runs excited circles around the pair, sniffing at them excitedly while Vlad steadfastly hovers nearby, watching over the youngins with a careful eye.
The array of Trapinch had been…impressive. Honestly more impressive than I was expecting. Big ones, small ones, adolescents and some freshly hatched. I know Carter had promised a 'good selection' when I mentioned I was bringing him four Smeargle, but the man honestly blew me away.
He even had a very impressive Numel thrown into the mix somehow. I've never seriously considered being in the market for a future Camerupt -what with its 40 base Speed and lackluster defenses-, but even I had to stop and consider for a moment on that one.
Only the thing was…none of them were what I needed.
Three different specimens, all of wildly different temperaments, were at C+ in potential. Trapinch who could easily grow to one day be Conference contenders. Maybe even exist on a team high in the Ace Trainer rankings. But…to stand tall as a true Elite? To be the best of the best? No…a C+ is just too shy. I can't curse a 'mon—a future friend—to potentially always be lagging behind the rest of the team like that. And with that Pokémon being a future Dragon? The type most associated with anger and pride? No. No, I won't do that.
The more adventurous of the two babies, the one that's already reached Lv. 3, begins chasing after Junior with her flappy arms extended and in an almost instantaneous change, her Lv. 2 "brother" shifts gears to follow suit.
'I may have done a bad thing.'
Part of me knows that I shouldn't be the one to raise these two. The circumstance of their unique situation seems like it was almost divinely ordained for Liz and Tate to deal with. The two Psychic Gym Leaders over in Mossdeep City. Those two would have been a much better choice to handle this. Tools, equipment, a psychically enriching environment, they probably have it all over there.
Carter even admitted to me that he was going to contact the esper siblings in about a week if no one had taken these two on by then.
It almost feels like…like I've interfered with destiny somehow by saying 'yes'.
Baltoys. Twin Baltoys.
The result of a mildly rare occurrence where a Ditto produces two Eggs instead of one.
Followed by an extremely rare occurrence where two Psychic minds connect to each other while still 'in-utero'. Or whatever the Pokémon Egg equivalent of that is.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Isra & Fel.
Baltoy: Lv. 3
Nature: Rash
Potential: B
Baltoy: Lv. 2
Nature: Careful
Potential: B
And if you don't get the reference on their names, well then you'll just have to live with it.
Yes, I know their evolved form has his design based on some ancient Japanese figurine or whatever, but if you aren't getting 'biblically accurate angel' vibes from the floating eight-eyed genderless doll thing, then I guess we just aren't looking at the same creature.
Isra lets out a few clicks of her species' unique cry as she tires herself out and plops down to rest on her arms. A piteous and defeated little whine coming from her tiny throat. Fel however, hasn't decided to give up the chase quite so easily.
Unlike some Pokémon who are born into this world with a plethora of moves already under their instinctual belt, Baltoys are limited to only one. Confusion.
A minuscule barely-there outline of Psychic power glimmers off the second sibling as he tries to beckon Junior closer with telekinesis. An effort that sees no results other than the Swinub tilting his head curiously at the feeling.
'They're about to do it again.' I realize as Isra forces herself to stand behind her sibling. The reason I chose to accept these two and also the reason I shouldn't have. The reason I've selfishly added them to the roster while also knowing that I am wrong to do so.
Power around Fel swells as Isra noticeably sags. Her Potential rating drops while her lower leveled brother's rises. Junior squeals in surprise as he finds himself floating four inches off the ground and lazily drifting towards the two.
I don't know what the best term would be to describe their connection. 'Twin speak' was of course a phenomena I remember from back home. And there were plenty of documented cases of siblings being so in sync with each other that it was frankly scary. But this goes a step or two beyond that. This is a sharing of energy. Of strength and power.
'It's a good thing Double Battles are so popular in Hoenn.' I muse somewhat to myself. 'I'm not sure I could ever use one of these two in Singles and not be accused of cheating.'
Both Baltoy encircle the fluffy brown pig in a hug as he's finally within grabbing distance and begin cuddling up against his fur.
'Though I suppose that's a worry for another day.'
Route 110, North of Slateport City
Ah, good ol' Route 110.
Home of the Gen III version of Cycling Road and also that stupid goddamn Trick House that we will be walking straight past. 'We will not be losing our entire day getting turned around in mazes or bumbling through escape rooms.'
If you want to subject yourself to that in exchange for its mediocre prizes, honestly, be my guest. More power to ya. But it's gonna have to be polite 'no thank you' from me and mine.
The Route itself is split into two sections, both sharply distinct from each other despite the fact they share a common utility. That being, acting as a bridge to cross an ocean inlet that is so infested with wild Tentacool you could catch them from the shoreline.
'As if I didn't get enough of the damn blighters while in Indigo.'
Best for everyone if we just start getting used to it now. The crossing of dangerous waters will unfortunately be a…common theme…when it comes to traversing the Routes in Hoenn.
The first, more heavily trafficked path, is of course the man-made marvel of Seaside Cycling Road. An artificial highway constructed of both concrete and reinforced glass, it sits high above the waterline, supported by thick fortified pillars that all stab deep into the ocean floor below. Mach Bikes and Acro Bikes zoom over it by the hundreds as cyclists, trainers, or other types of commuters travel from end to end as fast as their legs can peddle. It's even common to see small modest vehicles such as 'Mini Trucks' chugging along and making the journey between cities.
Far below, somewhat in the shadow of the expressway, is of course…the more relaxed path. The old road. The natural land bridge that has existed for as long as the region has had maps.
You have precisely one guess on which one I prefer.
A wild Gulpin stretches its tremendous mouth open for a yawn as it slowly dozes off in the afternoon sun. Two Oddish trill and sing to each other as they walk contentedly from one patch of foliage to the next and a Poochyena with matted fur barks and snarls at us…before one look from Vlad has the tiny dog yipping and running away back to the underbrush.
'Well shucks.'
I was planning on having Junior do a few battles with some of the wild Pokémon here—more to introduce Isra & Fel to the concept of battling than to meaningfully train Swinub himself—but it doesn't really seem like there's gonna be any takers. That Lv. 12 Poochyena just now was the most threatening thing we've seen all morning and it scampered off from just one semi-harsh glance.
Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way.
'Find some trainers and then give 'em the ol' "Battle me!" staredown.'
"Simon," I call, letting the Golurk release himself behind me. "If you'd be so kind."
The stone giant rumbles aloud, dropping to one knee and letting me climb atop his back. One by one the other Pokémon I have deployed are all secured, either by temporarily returning them to their housing or—in the case of Vlad—taking up position on the opposite shoulder.
Feet, legs, and hands all slowly fade out as the Ghost turns his head to the sky. Light begins to build in their place and Simon voices out a warning to hang on tight.
'Houston.' I start a reference in my mind. 'We have liftof- Wait! I should do Space Oddity instead! Ground Control to-'
Flames roar to life beneath the golem and then we are up. Past the low-flying Wingull warbling along the Route. Past Cycling Road and all its wayfarers. My natural aura feels a little queasy at being so disconnected from the earth but it's overridden by the pure and simple awe of just how open the world is now.
'Those who Fly using birds or dragons are a bunch of chumps.'
Miles pass by in minutes. What should have been a full day of trekking is reduced by a factor of ten if not greater. Clouds zoom by overhead and soon a large opening starts to take shape in the distance. A natural rest point where the Hoenn League has set up a few outdoor amenities for travelers to make use of.
The fact that some dirt field battle courts are included should go without saying.
Six trainers inhabit them currently, all engrossed within their private matches. As Simon cuts down his speed I can see Aron vs. Electrike. Hariyama vs. Ludicolo. And lastly there's what seems to be a rare Doubles mirror match. Plusle & Minun vs. Plusle and…Klang?
'Oh you cheeky S.O.B.' I don't know who that guy is, but I like the cut of his jib. Not only has he got himself a rare foreign Steel-type, he's also clued in to the fact that the ridiculous looking Gear Pokémon comes with the Plus/Minus Ability just like the little Pikachu-clones.
Golurk comes in for a soft touchdown, disabling his side thrusters and letting his hands reappear, and I take the opportunity to finish the cheesy overblown entrance by dramatically punching a fist forward.
"What's up everyone!" I call with a harmless closed-eyed grin. "I'm new to the region, I've got no Hoenn Badges to my name, and I'm willing to take on all challengers! Who wants to help me out?"
Ooo! Looks like I've got at least three who'll be wanting a turn.
Mauville City, The Next Day
Though technically not its capital city, Mauville is Hoenn's most central hub when it comes to commerce and trade. With four different Routes all feeding in and leading away from it, it is easily the most trafficked municipality in the region. Bike shops, Ribbon shops, Dress shops, the Battle Institute, Battle Cafes, Non-Battle Cafes, a towering television station, some place called 'Pokémon Reflexology Services'—which I don't even know what that means—and all of that is just from the few streets I've explored while slowly making my way towards the city's Gym.
There may also have been a Game Corner that I lost three hours at, but that's neither here nor there. 'It was just for the free buffet I swear. I don't have a gambling problem, you have a problem. I can stop anytime I like.'
The leader of Mauville Gym is a jolly old coot by the name of Wattson. Somewhat of a polar opposite to old man Pryce back in Mahogany. The grumpy curmudgeon I know and adore may have the epithet of 'The Winter Trainer' but it's Mauville's 'Cheerfully Electrifying Man' who does the much better impression of merry Kris Kringle.
And yes. My use of 'polar' there was an Electric/Ice pun. Gotta keep you all on your toes.
If there are any out there who are worried that I have aspirations of 'pulling an Ash' and planning to travel to each and every Gym in the region, effectively starting my Badge collection over then please…just relax. Let me assuage your concerns.
We're not even trying to get this Badge. Rather, I'm here to participate in a little…social engineering. Some innocent underhandedness. Won't bring harm to anyone.
Lorelei's diplomatic attempts at getting me the contact info for 'Frontier Brain' Brandon hit somewhat of a dead end when she tried to assist me. All her people came back with was a metaphorical shrug of the shoulders and word that the man was temple-raiding somewhere. A most unhelpful fact that I probably could have guessed all on my own.
I'm hoping that speaking directly with one of Hoenn's leaders in person might give me something a little more concrete to go on.
And if I happen to name-drop Indigo's Elite Four Ice mistress while trying to set up the meeting through the Gym's secretary, well…as I said, who really gets hurt in that?
"Cacnea, hide yourself with Sandstorm!" The preteen in the denim shorts hollers out, desperately trying to find a way back into this. The princely little cactus windmills his arms as he obeys and soon a…modest…dust cloud has been whipped up.
'A kid after my own heart.' I finish off the slice of 'Power Surge Pizza' and sedately move the straw of 'Jolt-a-Cola' to my lips. 'I do love me some good weather strats. That Sand Veil evasion is real. Unfortunately…'
"BWAHAHA!" The Gym Leader jovially laughs out, his smile large and infectious. "Nice effort son! But at the fourth challenge level I won't make it so easy on you! Finish it with Magnet Bomb!"
Six silver spheres fire off the Magneton and hone in with unmissable accuracy. There's sounds of a small explosion, a cry from the desert Grass-type wailing out, and now it seems like 'Youngster Timmy' is going to be on his last Pokémon.
'And he was doing so well at first.' A decent looking Graveler was able to handle Wattson's opening Voltorb quite easily. It even looked for a second as though we in the crowd were about to be treated to the sight of a full sweep. 'At least until one Mirror Shot from this Steel-type shut that shit down hard.'
The challenger sends out his last pick for this 3 vs. 3. A Masquerain that buzzes out a passionate warcry and angrily stares down the unblinking Magnet Pokémon on the Gym Leader's side.
Masquerain: Lv. 23
Nature: Hasty
Potential: C-
Magneton: Lv. 31
Nature: Quiet
Potential: D+
'Well this won't take very long.' I think as I begin gathering together my trash. 'Level disparity like that and it's a done deal even before you consider the type disadvantage.'
I wonder if the snack counter is still open? This is just about the last match of the evening and I imagine the kitchen will be closing down soon. Despite the promise in its name, the 'Full-Charge Combo' wasn't actually all that filling. I've definitely still got room to try one of those 'Watt-a-Pretzals'.
'More of the Gyms back home should try selling stadium food.' I know the cash markup is always ridiculous, health-wise it's complete junk and the taste isn't even all that amazing but…I don't know. Something about it just satisfies. Like movie theater nachos. 'Even with all the extra overhead, Wattson's probably rolling in the dough with this little side hustle.'
A comfy brown sweater over a yellow insulated suit. Hair that's more white than grey. Large above-average sized hands and a solid round gut that somewhat jiggles when he laughs.
The man really is an Electric St. Nick. Mirth and good humor just exude off him with every step.
"So, Bradley is it?" The smiling man walks over to extend a hand. "My assistant mentioned you work with the Indigo League?"
"Just Brad is fine, sir." I complete the shake. "Unfortunately, that's a slight mischaracterization though. I said I was a close associate of Elite Lorelei, nothing more."
…
…
"...well I'll be damned.." The Gym Leader whispers. His entire countenance has shifted as he stares at where our hands are still clasped. "A natural Ground Aura! As I live and breathe! Wasn't expecting that when I rolled out of bed this morning!"
I try to keep my eyes from bugging out. How the hell did he-?! I haven't told- I mean there have been moments where the secret got loose. Morty suspected. Clair almost certainly knew. But I've never actually said aloud-
"Bwaha! Don't look so dismayed lad! Sorry if I wasn't supposed to blurt that out, but you don't get to my age without picking up a trick or two!" The man wiggles his fingers and a tiny yellow spark travels between two of the digits. "It's only natural I can recognize my opposite from just a touch! Why, you're about as blank to me as one of those Dark-types are against Psychics!"
…
…huh. 'Wattson's an aura user.' Can't honestly say that was on my bingo card today.
Damn. And now my whole rhythm's shot to hell. What was I gonna say? I had a whole song and dance practiced. I've been mentally rehearsing for this meeting since mid-morning and now I seem to be standing here gaping like a dumb fish.
"Son?"
"Yeah, sorry." I finally catch myself. "You just really threw me for a loop with that one. You're actually the first to ever call me on it. The first I've met who can use the skill more than just subconsciously too."
"Well I do make it a habit to impress!" He sticks his hands on his hips and lets out another deep-bellied laugh. "Now what is it I can do for you? Speak up, don't be shy!"
My original intention for this conversation was to spin a…mildly edited tale of why I'm trying to find Hoenn's foremost Regi expert. Admitting to yet another person that I have an inert Legendary strapped to my belt right now did not strike me as a particularly wise course. The fact that it is publicly viewed as a Hoenn Legendary was also a notable fact to consider. And yet…despite all those concerns, something about this man just makes me trust him. He's got that sunny charisma that puts one in a good mood.
'Maybe I'm the one who needs to watch out for the dangers of social engineering.'
When the story is done the Gym Leader isn't so much frowning...but he is nodding thoughtfully. "Well that sure is a conundrum. I work with quite a few Steel-types myself and I've never heard of anything quite like that." His large hand claps down on my shoulder. "But sure! I can absolutely call young Brandon up! The man even owes me a favor!" The megawatt grin returns twice as large. "But you've got to help me out with something in exchange! Quid pro quo as us old folks love to say!"
"And what's that?" I ask just a smidge hesitantly.
"A Pokémon battle of course!" Yet another hearty laugh escapes his throat. "None of my fellow leaders in Hoenn or even the Elite Four specialize in Ground-types you see! It's been an age and a half since my personal team has gotten to test themselves against their natural weakness! I think they're all overdue for a good challenge!"
'You know…for this universe, I'm not sure why I expected anything different.'
A/N: Although Isra & Fel are technically genderless as members of the Baltoy/Claydol line, the two of them "feel" like a sister/brother duo to Brad, so that's why he refers to them as such.
And in case you just have no clue at all on what their names are referencing:
Slateport City, Public Park
Task failed successfully.
Oh so many weeks ago when I made my deal with Carter the gentleman Poké Breeder, I asked for Trapinch and Baltoy. That was my request.
I remember Carter's large grey moustache ruffling in concern at my words. I remember him speaking that he would need to work through a third party to get them. That desert biome Pokémon were not his usual specialty.
I'll reiterate once more.
Task failed successfully.
The two baby Pokémon dance along the pavement in front of me, playing some sort of game that only they know the rules to. Swinub runs excited circles around the pair, sniffing at them excitedly while Vlad steadfastly hovers nearby, watching over the youngins with a careful eye.
The array of Trapinch had been…impressive. Honestly more impressive than I was expecting. Big ones, small ones, adolescents and some freshly hatched. I know Carter had promised a 'good selection' when I mentioned I was bringing him four Smeargle, but the man honestly blew me away.
He even had a very impressive Numel thrown into the mix somehow. I've never seriously considered being in the market for a future Camerupt -what with its 40 base Speed and lackluster defenses-, but even I had to stop and consider for a moment on that one.
Only the thing was…none of them were what I needed.
Three different specimens, all of wildly different temperaments, were at C+ in potential. Trapinch who could easily grow to one day be Conference contenders. Maybe even exist on a team high in the Ace Trainer rankings. But…to stand tall as a true Elite? To be the best of the best? No…a C+ is just too shy. I can't curse a 'mon—a future friend—to potentially always be lagging behind the rest of the team like that. And with that Pokémon being a future Dragon? The type most associated with anger and pride? No. No, I won't do that.
The more adventurous of the two babies, the one that's already reached Lv. 3, begins chasing after Junior with her flappy arms extended and in an almost instantaneous change, her Lv. 2 "brother" shifts gears to follow suit.
'I may have done a bad thing.'
Part of me knows that I shouldn't be the one to raise these two. The circumstance of their unique situation seems like it was almost divinely ordained for Liz and Tate to deal with. The two Psychic Gym Leaders over in Mossdeep City. Those two would have been a much better choice to handle this. Tools, equipment, a psychically enriching environment, they probably have it all over there.
Carter even admitted to me that he was going to contact the esper siblings in about a week if no one had taken these two on by then.
It almost feels like…like I've interfered with destiny somehow by saying 'yes'.
Baltoys. Twin Baltoys.
The result of a mildly rare occurrence where a Ditto produces two Eggs instead of one.
Followed by an extremely rare occurrence where two Psychic minds connect to each other while still 'in-utero'. Or whatever the Pokémon Egg equivalent of that is.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Isra & Fel.
Baltoy: Lv. 3
Nature: Rash
Potential: B
Baltoy: Lv. 2
Nature: Careful
Potential: B
And if you don't get the reference on their names, well then you'll just have to live with it.
Yes, I know their evolved form has his design based on some ancient Japanese figurine or whatever, but if you aren't getting 'biblically accurate angel' vibes from the floating eight-eyed genderless doll thing, then I guess we just aren't looking at the same creature.
Isra lets out a few clicks of her species' unique cry as she tires herself out and plops down to rest on her arms. A piteous and defeated little whine coming from her tiny throat. Fel however, hasn't decided to give up the chase quite so easily.
Unlike some Pokémon who are born into this world with a plethora of moves already under their instinctual belt, Baltoys are limited to only one. Confusion.
A minuscule barely-there outline of Psychic power glimmers off the second sibling as he tries to beckon Junior closer with telekinesis. An effort that sees no results other than the Swinub tilting his head curiously at the feeling.
'They're about to do it again.' I realize as Isra forces herself to stand behind her sibling. The reason I chose to accept these two and also the reason I shouldn't have. The reason I've selfishly added them to the roster while also knowing that I am wrong to do so.
Power around Fel swells as Isra noticeably sags. Her Potential rating drops while her lower leveled brother's rises. Junior squeals in surprise as he finds himself floating four inches off the ground and lazily drifting towards the two.
I don't know what the best term would be to describe their connection. 'Twin speak' was of course a phenomena I remember from back home. And there were plenty of documented cases of siblings being so in sync with each other that it was frankly scary. But this goes a step or two beyond that. This is a sharing of energy. Of strength and power.
'It's a good thing Double Battles are so popular in Hoenn.' I muse somewhat to myself. 'I'm not sure I could ever use one of these two in Singles and not be accused of cheating.'
Both Baltoy encircle the fluffy brown pig in a hug as he's finally within grabbing distance and begin cuddling up against his fur.
'Though I suppose that's a worry for another day.'
Route 110, North of Slateport City
Ah, good ol' Route 110.
Home of the Gen III version of Cycling Road and also that stupid goddamn Trick House that we will be walking straight past. 'We will not be losing our entire day getting turned around in mazes or bumbling through escape rooms.'
If you want to subject yourself to that in exchange for its mediocre prizes, honestly, be my guest. More power to ya. But it's gonna have to be polite 'no thank you' from me and mine.
The Route itself is split into two sections, both sharply distinct from each other despite the fact they share a common utility. That being, acting as a bridge to cross an ocean inlet that is so infested with wild Tentacool you could catch them from the shoreline.
'As if I didn't get enough of the damn blighters while in Indigo.'
Best for everyone if we just start getting used to it now. The crossing of dangerous waters will unfortunately be a…common theme…when it comes to traversing the Routes in Hoenn.
The first, more heavily trafficked path, is of course the man-made marvel of Seaside Cycling Road. An artificial highway constructed of both concrete and reinforced glass, it sits high above the waterline, supported by thick fortified pillars that all stab deep into the ocean floor below. Mach Bikes and Acro Bikes zoom over it by the hundreds as cyclists, trainers, or other types of commuters travel from end to end as fast as their legs can peddle. It's even common to see small modest vehicles such as 'Mini Trucks' chugging along and making the journey between cities.
Far below, somewhat in the shadow of the expressway, is of course…the more relaxed path. The old road. The natural land bridge that has existed for as long as the region has had maps.
You have precisely one guess on which one I prefer.
A wild Gulpin stretches its tremendous mouth open for a yawn as it slowly dozes off in the afternoon sun. Two Oddish trill and sing to each other as they walk contentedly from one patch of foliage to the next and a Poochyena with matted fur barks and snarls at us…before one look from Vlad has the tiny dog yipping and running away back to the underbrush.
'Well shucks.'
I was planning on having Junior do a few battles with some of the wild Pokémon here—more to introduce Isra & Fel to the concept of battling than to meaningfully train Swinub himself—but it doesn't really seem like there's gonna be any takers. That Lv. 12 Poochyena just now was the most threatening thing we've seen all morning and it scampered off from just one semi-harsh glance.
Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way.
'Find some trainers and then give 'em the ol' "Battle me!" staredown.'
"Simon," I call, letting the Golurk release himself behind me. "If you'd be so kind."
The stone giant rumbles aloud, dropping to one knee and letting me climb atop his back. One by one the other Pokémon I have deployed are all secured, either by temporarily returning them to their housing or—in the case of Vlad—taking up position on the opposite shoulder.
Feet, legs, and hands all slowly fade out as the Ghost turns his head to the sky. Light begins to build in their place and Simon voices out a warning to hang on tight.
'Houston.' I start a reference in my mind. 'We have liftof- Wait! I should do Space Oddity instead! Ground Control to-'
Flames roar to life beneath the golem and then we are up. Past the low-flying Wingull warbling along the Route. Past Cycling Road and all its wayfarers. My natural aura feels a little queasy at being so disconnected from the earth but it's overridden by the pure and simple awe of just how open the world is now.
'Those who Fly using birds or dragons are a bunch of chumps.'
Miles pass by in minutes. What should have been a full day of trekking is reduced by a factor of ten if not greater. Clouds zoom by overhead and soon a large opening starts to take shape in the distance. A natural rest point where the Hoenn League has set up a few outdoor amenities for travelers to make use of.
The fact that some dirt field battle courts are included should go without saying.
Six trainers inhabit them currently, all engrossed within their private matches. As Simon cuts down his speed I can see Aron vs. Electrike. Hariyama vs. Ludicolo. And lastly there's what seems to be a rare Doubles mirror match. Plusle & Minun vs. Plusle and…Klang?
'Oh you cheeky S.O.B.' I don't know who that guy is, but I like the cut of his jib. Not only has he got himself a rare foreign Steel-type, he's also clued in to the fact that the ridiculous looking Gear Pokémon comes with the Plus/Minus Ability just like the little Pikachu-clones.
Golurk comes in for a soft touchdown, disabling his side thrusters and letting his hands reappear, and I take the opportunity to finish the cheesy overblown entrance by dramatically punching a fist forward.
"What's up everyone!" I call with a harmless closed-eyed grin. "I'm new to the region, I've got no Hoenn Badges to my name, and I'm willing to take on all challengers! Who wants to help me out?"
Ooo! Looks like I've got at least three who'll be wanting a turn.
Mauville City, The Next Day
Though technically not its capital city, Mauville is Hoenn's most central hub when it comes to commerce and trade. With four different Routes all feeding in and leading away from it, it is easily the most trafficked municipality in the region. Bike shops, Ribbon shops, Dress shops, the Battle Institute, Battle Cafes, Non-Battle Cafes, a towering television station, some place called 'Pokémon Reflexology Services'—which I don't even know what that means—and all of that is just from the few streets I've explored while slowly making my way towards the city's Gym.
There may also have been a Game Corner that I lost three hours at, but that's neither here nor there. 'It was just for the free buffet I swear. I don't have a gambling problem, you have a problem. I can stop anytime I like.'
The leader of Mauville Gym is a jolly old coot by the name of Wattson. Somewhat of a polar opposite to old man Pryce back in Mahogany. The grumpy curmudgeon I know and adore may have the epithet of 'The Winter Trainer' but it's Mauville's 'Cheerfully Electrifying Man' who does the much better impression of merry Kris Kringle.
And yes. My use of 'polar' there was an Electric/Ice pun. Gotta keep you all on your toes.
If there are any out there who are worried that I have aspirations of 'pulling an Ash' and planning to travel to each and every Gym in the region, effectively starting my Badge collection over then please…just relax. Let me assuage your concerns.
We're not even trying to get this Badge. Rather, I'm here to participate in a little…social engineering. Some innocent underhandedness. Won't bring harm to anyone.
Lorelei's diplomatic attempts at getting me the contact info for 'Frontier Brain' Brandon hit somewhat of a dead end when she tried to assist me. All her people came back with was a metaphorical shrug of the shoulders and word that the man was temple-raiding somewhere. A most unhelpful fact that I probably could have guessed all on my own.
I'm hoping that speaking directly with one of Hoenn's leaders in person might give me something a little more concrete to go on.
And if I happen to name-drop Indigo's Elite Four Ice mistress while trying to set up the meeting through the Gym's secretary, well…as I said, who really gets hurt in that?
"Cacnea, hide yourself with Sandstorm!" The preteen in the denim shorts hollers out, desperately trying to find a way back into this. The princely little cactus windmills his arms as he obeys and soon a…modest…dust cloud has been whipped up.
'A kid after my own heart.' I finish off the slice of 'Power Surge Pizza' and sedately move the straw of 'Jolt-a-Cola' to my lips. 'I do love me some good weather strats. That Sand Veil evasion is real. Unfortunately…'
"BWAHAHA!" The Gym Leader jovially laughs out, his smile large and infectious. "Nice effort son! But at the fourth challenge level I won't make it so easy on you! Finish it with Magnet Bomb!"
Six silver spheres fire off the Magneton and hone in with unmissable accuracy. There's sounds of a small explosion, a cry from the desert Grass-type wailing out, and now it seems like 'Youngster Timmy' is going to be on his last Pokémon.
'And he was doing so well at first.' A decent looking Graveler was able to handle Wattson's opening Voltorb quite easily. It even looked for a second as though we in the crowd were about to be treated to the sight of a full sweep. 'At least until one Mirror Shot from this Steel-type shut that shit down hard.'
The challenger sends out his last pick for this 3 vs. 3. A Masquerain that buzzes out a passionate warcry and angrily stares down the unblinking Magnet Pokémon on the Gym Leader's side.
Masquerain: Lv. 23
Nature: Hasty
Potential: C-
Magneton: Lv. 31
Nature: Quiet
Potential: D+
'Well this won't take very long.' I think as I begin gathering together my trash. 'Level disparity like that and it's a done deal even before you consider the type disadvantage.'
I wonder if the snack counter is still open? This is just about the last match of the evening and I imagine the kitchen will be closing down soon. Despite the promise in its name, the 'Full-Charge Combo' wasn't actually all that filling. I've definitely still got room to try one of those 'Watt-a-Pretzals'.
'More of the Gyms back home should try selling stadium food.' I know the cash markup is always ridiculous, health-wise it's complete junk and the taste isn't even all that amazing but…I don't know. Something about it just satisfies. Like movie theater nachos. 'Even with all the extra overhead, Wattson's probably rolling in the dough with this little side hustle.'
A comfy brown sweater over a yellow insulated suit. Hair that's more white than grey. Large above-average sized hands and a solid round gut that somewhat jiggles when he laughs.
The man really is an Electric St. Nick. Mirth and good humor just exude off him with every step.
"So, Bradley is it?" The smiling man walks over to extend a hand. "My assistant mentioned you work with the Indigo League?"
"Just Brad is fine, sir." I complete the shake. "Unfortunately, that's a slight mischaracterization though. I said I was a close associate of Elite Lorelei, nothing more."
…
…
"...well I'll be damned.." The Gym Leader whispers. His entire countenance has shifted as he stares at where our hands are still clasped. "A natural Ground Aura! As I live and breathe! Wasn't expecting that when I rolled out of bed this morning!"
I try to keep my eyes from bugging out. How the hell did he-?! I haven't told- I mean there have been moments where the secret got loose. Morty suspected. Clair almost certainly knew. But I've never actually said aloud-
"Bwaha! Don't look so dismayed lad! Sorry if I wasn't supposed to blurt that out, but you don't get to my age without picking up a trick or two!" The man wiggles his fingers and a tiny yellow spark travels between two of the digits. "It's only natural I can recognize my opposite from just a touch! Why, you're about as blank to me as one of those Dark-types are against Psychics!"
…
…huh. 'Wattson's an aura user.' Can't honestly say that was on my bingo card today.
Damn. And now my whole rhythm's shot to hell. What was I gonna say? I had a whole song and dance practiced. I've been mentally rehearsing for this meeting since mid-morning and now I seem to be standing here gaping like a dumb fish.
"Son?"
"Yeah, sorry." I finally catch myself. "You just really threw me for a loop with that one. You're actually the first to ever call me on it. The first I've met who can use the skill more than just subconsciously too."
"Well I do make it a habit to impress!" He sticks his hands on his hips and lets out another deep-bellied laugh. "Now what is it I can do for you? Speak up, don't be shy!"
My original intention for this conversation was to spin a…mildly edited tale of why I'm trying to find Hoenn's foremost Regi expert. Admitting to yet another person that I have an inert Legendary strapped to my belt right now did not strike me as a particularly wise course. The fact that it is publicly viewed as a Hoenn Legendary was also a notable fact to consider. And yet…despite all those concerns, something about this man just makes me trust him. He's got that sunny charisma that puts one in a good mood.
'Maybe I'm the one who needs to watch out for the dangers of social engineering.'
When the story is done the Gym Leader isn't so much frowning...but he is nodding thoughtfully. "Well that sure is a conundrum. I work with quite a few Steel-types myself and I've never heard of anything quite like that." His large hand claps down on my shoulder. "But sure! I can absolutely call young Brandon up! The man even owes me a favor!" The megawatt grin returns twice as large. "But you've got to help me out with something in exchange! Quid pro quo as us old folks love to say!"
"And what's that?" I ask just a smidge hesitantly.
"A Pokémon battle of course!" Yet another hearty laugh escapes his throat. "None of my fellow leaders in Hoenn or even the Elite Four specialize in Ground-types you see! It's been an age and a half since my personal team has gotten to test themselves against their natural weakness! I think they're all overdue for a good challenge!"
'You know…for this universe, I'm not sure why I expected anything different.'
A/N: Although Isra & Fel are technically genderless as members of the Baltoy/Claydol line, the two of them "feel" like a sister/brother duo to Brad, so that's why he refers to them as such.
And in case you just have no clue at all on what their names are referencing:
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