Steven Stone III’s face was a rictus of anger, brow furrowed, mouth wrenched into a cruel snarl. He whipped off his sunglasses and tossed them aside, slowly contorting his face back into the semblance of calm. He took a deep breath and tossed out his pokeball, returning Pawniard to safety. He ran his hands through his hair, frowning when a lock fell out of place.

“Trainer Steven, please summon your second pokemon.” Official Borek was still standing in the middle of the battlefield with his hand raised. It seemed he didn’t quite trust Mankey not to attack the moment Stone brought out his second pokemon.

Steven reached to his belt, cracking open a second ball in his hand without a word. Light flashed, revealing the form of Meditite. The murmur of the crowd increased, slightly more audible through the deafening effects of the psychic barriers. Even the dull drone of the announcer seemed to increase in excitement.

“This must be embarrassing for you,” Cashe taunted, speaking loudly so Stone could hear him across the battlefield. Stone looked up from where he was whispering to his Meditite. Cashe saw the corner of his mouth twitch as Stone tried to contain his anger, “Down a full pokemon and Mankey only took a glancing blow.” Cashe shook his head in shame, “Don’t worry, I feel bad. I’ll make things a little easier for you.”

“What?” Stone’s voice dripped with venom, the single word containing a seething anger just below the surface.

“Official Burek?” Cashe turned to the official who was still in the middle of the battlefield, “I would like to make a substitution.”

“Are you sure? You will not be able to bring Mankey out again.” Borek glanced at Stone with a quick side eye. Stone was shaking in anger, fists clenched, face slowly darkening.

Cashe looked straight at his opponent and gave him a slow, languishing smile, “Don’t worry. It won’t be a problem.”

“Very well,” Borek nodded, “You may recall Mankey and summon your second pokemon.”

“Good work, Mankey,” Cashe said, holding up his pokeball and returning Mankey to it, “You did a good job. Come on out Bulbasaur.”

Bulbasaur appeared at his side, bright sun making his too green skin stand out even more. Cashe smiled in genuine amusement at his first pokemon as Bulbasaur basked in the afternoon sun, “What do you think, buddy? Is it enough?”

Bulbasaur shivered in place for a moment and nodded, “Bulbasaur.”

“Me too,” Cashe grinned and gave Bulbasaur a playful scratch on his head. He pointed across the battlefield, “See that Meditite? You’ve got to play keep away with this one. Think you can do that?”

Bulbasaur turned away from Cashe and towards the battlefield, eyes narrowing as he took in his opponent. Meditite was another humanoid pokemon, standing about two feet tall. It had blue skin and strange white hair, with matching bands of white around its wrists and on its feet.

“Bulbasaur,” Bulbasaur shivered again, this time in excitement, his bulb twitching in anticipation of the upcoming battle.

“Good. Get ready,” Cashe said, we’re about to start up again.”

Bulbasaur nodded and walked into the arena. On the other side of the stage, Meditite did the same thing.

“Trainers ready?” Official Borek, swiveled his head back and forth to both Cashe and Steven. Neither responded and Borek backed away, moving to the edge of the stage, “Begin!”

“Poison Powder, Bulbasaur!” Cashe shouted, “Keep it up!”

“Meditite, Fake Out!”

Meditite moved, reflexes responding instantly to its trainer’s command. It shot across the battlefield, faster than what should have be possible, charging at Bulbasaur with its arms spread wide.

The blow should have landed, Meditite was too fast for most pokemon, let alone the slower Bulbasaur. On another day, it would have been a clean hit. But not today.

Bulbasaur disappeared from where he stood, moving almost too fast for Cashe to see. He left a trail of poison spores in his wake, darting away from Meditite as it closed in on him. Meditite brought its hands together with an almighty slam, closing them in the space Bulbasaur stood only a moment before, whipping up a plume of toxic spores.

“Don’t let him get away,” Stone screamed, spittle flying from his lips, “Zen Headbutt!”

Meditite dashed after Bulbasaur, cutting the distance down again as its head began to glow with a powerful purple light. It was a futile attack, however. Meditite was fast, but its ridiculous speed from Fake Out was lost, while Bulbasaur hadn’t slowed down at all.

Bulbasaur waited until his opponent was all but upon him and disappeared in another burst of Poison Powder.

Meditite, already in the attacking motion, was unable to pull back in time, bursting through the cloud of spores and coming out the other side.

Stone wrenched at the air in frustration, hair falling out of place to cover his deep red face. “Bullet Punch Meditite! Hit him now!”

Meditite’s fists glowed with a silver aura and it again moved with impressive speed, cutting across the battlefield and through the trailers of Poison Powder Bulbasaur left in his wake. Meditite threw a punch to the side of Bulbasaur, trying to predict his movement. Bulbasaur darted away, but the punch never came. It was a feint, leaving Bulbasaur exposed. Meditite brought its fist around and struck Bulbasaur on the shoulder as he tried to dodge, forcing him to back away. Bulbasaur recovered quickly, darting away and leaving another trail of Poison Powder drifting through the air.

"What's wrong, Cashe? Too scared to attack?" Stone laughed, “Bulbasaur is fast, but real trainers know the importance of actual skill! You’re a coward! You can only tell your pokemon to run away.” He spat on the ground and grinned, the smug crook of his smile returning to his face.

Cashe shrugged, letting the moment stretch and causing a small lull in the battle. He raised a hand, pointing at Meditite, “Sometimes that's all a good trainer needs.”

Stone blinked, eyes focusing on Meditite, noticing his pokemon’s condition for the first time. Meditite was haggard. Its head was up, but its breathing was rough and labored. It moved awkwardly, as if holding a large burden on its back as it attempted to keep its positioning against its opponent. Flecks of blood tinged its face, more added with each tortured breath. A small stream of deep purple ichor dripped from its mouth and nose, showing the telltale signs of poisoning.

“It’s sad really, Meditite clearly knows what it's doing,” Cashe lamented, gesturing to how Meditite attempted to keep its positioning and guard up, even without its trainer’s instructions, “Too bad its trainer is completely outclassed.”

Stone screwed up his face in a hate-filled snarl, “You poisoner!” Stone said the word with disgust and outrage, accusation deep in his tone, “You’re happy winning battles like this? You like torturing pokemon?”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Cashe kept his face carefully blank and shrugged, “You’re the one that ordered Meditite to charge through clouds of Poison Powder.”

Stone screamed in wordless frustration, “Meditite, Close Combat!”

Meditite took a step forward. Its leg buckled under it, collapsing to one knee on the ground, head bowed to Bulbasaur. Cashe stayed quiet as Bulbasaur stood tall, his head raised in pride.

“Meditite, use Close Combat! NOW!” Stone screamed.

Meditite struggled to rise from its knee, limbs shaking like a tree caught in a storm.

“DO SOMETHING! Bullet Punch! Attack!”

“Belay that,” Official Borek shouted, running into the battlefield waving one hand, a spray bottle in his other, “Meditite is unable to battle. Trainer Steven is out of Pokemon. Trainer Apollo is the winner!”

He reached Meditite’s side just as the small pokemon collapsed completely, and got down on his knees, giving Meditite a few sprays from the bottle before switching to another and giving it a few more.

Cashe smiled as Bulbasaur hopped into the air at the declaration, making joyous croaking sounds in celebration of his win. Cashe laughed and spread his arms wide, letting Bulbasaur charge into them, despite his increased bulk.

As he did, Kadabra’s barriers went down. Cashe was greeted with silence.

***

“Sometimes that's all a good trainer needs,” Cashe said, his words clearly audible throughout the bar. Misty leaned back in her booth with a small smile on her face as a chuckle rose through the room at his words. Cashe was much better at the psychological side of battling than the junior Stone, that was for sure.

The bar was packed with people, as it was most days during the tournament. It was even more crowded today, as hometown hero, Felicia Harrow, had fought. Emilia had wiped the floor with her, of course, but a bar was a perfect place to be when the trainer you were cheering for took a bad loss.

The crowd had moved on from sorrow to rowdiness quickly with the help of the bar’s tap, and now they were following the battle of Apollo Cashe and Steven Stone III with interest. They laughed at the provocations and winced with the blows. Misty was there with them. Even after years as a trainer and a researcher, some attacks still looked brutal to her.

Like the one Cashe was currently implementing against Steven’s Meditite. Most people didn’t notice it, too enthralled by the impossible speed of Cashe’s Bulbasaur and the growing frustration of Steven Stone III. It wasn’t everyday one got to see a golden child throw a tantrum. But Misty noticed. So did several others, going by the grim expressions on their faces. Cashe was poisoning Stone’s Meditite, and it could not be more obvious that Stone was unaware.

It made some sense, it was easy to dismiss a few spores in your pokemon’s face when they dashed through a cloud of Poison Powder. It was easy to ignore the diluted steam that trailed behind the darting Bulbasaur. But those spores didn’t go away. They built up over time.

The mood of the bar shifted as the battle paused for a moment, several patrons noticing the ragged state Meditite was in before Cashe pointed it out to Stone. The atmosphere shifted further at Cashe’s casual nonchalance of the poisoning and dismissal of Stone as a trainer. By the time the fight was called in Cashe's favor, the bar was silent.

“Well, there you have it, folks,” the announcer, so excited just moments prior, now had a subdued tone. Nevertheless, his voice blared through the quiet of the bar. Several people scowled at the screen as Cashe celebrated with Bulbasaur, showing no concern for the state of his opponent’s Meditite, “In a stunning upset, it looks like the unknown trainer, Apollo Cashe, will be advancing to the next round over the highly touted Steven Stone III.”

The television went silent as the announcer collected himself, the speakers only projecting the uncomfortable murmuring of the crowded stadium. The camera cut from Cashe’s jubilant Bulbasaur to Stone’s suffering Meditite. It held there for a moment, until Stone recalled Meditite to his pokeball, turned on his heel and stormed away. As he left he made a rude gesture at a reporter who tried to approach him.

“Apologies for any inappropriateness displayed on screen,” the announcer piped up, “We thought we would have an interview with Trainer Steven for you, but as you can see, he is understandably upset.” The announcer cleared his throat, “That means we will go straight to Mary, who is standing by with the match’s victor, Apollo Cashe. Mary, take it away.”

The camera cut to a gorgeous young woman with ebony skin, standing beside the tall figure of Cashe. He was holding onto one of Bulbasaur’s vines so that he didn’t get away during the interview, and Bulbasaur was responding to it by running in circles around the reporter and Cashe, forcing them to step over the vine every few seconds, lest they be wrapped up in it.

“Thanks Dave. I have with me Apollo Cashe,” Mary smiled and to her credit, it didn’t look forced, “Trainer Apollo, tell us about your victory, you made what should have been a tough battle look rather easy.”

“It was easy,” Cashe said, shuffling his legs to step over Bublasaur’s vine, “I think we all saw that Trainer Steven was not a particularly attentive trainer and it cost him in the end.”

“Yes, your Mankey certainly was a surprise. I don’t think anyone was expecting her to know Encore. Not only is it a rare move, but it is notoriously difficult to teach. How did you manage it?”

Cashe gave the reporter a thin smile, “I don’t plan on sharing my training methods with the public.”

Misty smiled to herself and shook her head at the misdirection. She knew Mankey already knew the move when she was caught. Emilia had discussed Mankey’s expansive move pool with her at length.

“Well you can’t blame a girl for asking,” Mary took the evasion in stride, smiling in understanding and stepping forward to avoid Bulbasaur as he came running around them again, “Encore made that fight unwinnable for Trainer Stone, but do you think you could have won without it?”

“We got lucky when he ordered Pawniard to use Swords Dance,” Cashe said, “But I don’t rely on luck to win my battles, though I am happy to take advantage of it.”

“Some might say you got lucky with your lead pokemon choices,” Mary pointed out.

Cashe frowned, “Matchup advantages will always exist. The mark of a good trainer is winning without them.”

“And you did win without them. Some might call your choice to substitute Mankey out as risky, but you made it work with only Bulbasaur against Meditite.”

“It would have been riskier to let Mankey stay in and take a chance with injury,” Cashe said, “And like you said, I didn’t need any help.”

“You certainly did not,” Mary smiled, meeting Cashe’s eyes, “Your Bulbasaur displayed impressive speed. Am I correct in thinking he has the ability, Chlorophyll?”

“I think that is a safe guess,” Cashe said, returning the smile, “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said he had Overgrow.”

Mary giggled at the joke, “No, I don’t think so. Though some people might be starting to believe other things. Would you care to comment on your ‘Blood Money’ persona that exists online?”

Cashe’s smile fell away at the question, “No.”

Uh oh. That was the wrong answer. Misty leaned forward as Mary’s smile changed with Cashe’s blunt response. Like any good reporter, she had a nose for stories.

“That’s understandable,” Mary said, “The rumors online are quite far-fetched. But you have to admit, you do not seem to mind using controversial strategies in order to get the win.”

The camera zoomed in on Cashe and his eyes narrowed, “Did I break any rules?”

“Well, no-”

“Then how is it controversial?” Cashe said, his voice darkening.

“Poison has long been seen as a cruel tactic,” Mary said.

“A win is a win,” Cashe muttered, “Are we done here?”

Misty winced as Cashe made another mistake. He should never put the reporter in control of the interview like that.

“One more question,” Mary said predictably, “I would be remiss if I did not ask about how you were brought to the battle. I believe you were escorted by a pair of Machoke.”

Contrary to Misty’s expectations, Cashe brightened at the implied question, “I was detained for the evening after punching Steven Stone III in the face,” Cashe smiled, “You may have noticed his bruised jaw earlier.”

“What?” Mary exclaimed in her first unprofessional response of the interview, “Why?”

Cashe smiled and turned away from Mary to face the camera directly, “I punched Steven Stone III after catching him in the act of assaulting Emilia Oa-”

The camera cut away from Cashe, flipping to another feed showing the announcer, Dave, hastily sitting down behind a desk and throwing on a headset. The bar mumbled in confusion at the sudden change in content, “Sorry about that folks,” Dave said, ”we seem to have come across some technical issues with the broadcast. We will return you to the interview once we have everything fixed up.”

Dave continued to patter on, but Misty didn’t hear a word of it. She wrenched her pokegear out of her purse and flipped it open, barely able to navigate its interface in her rage.

“Assault my daughter will you?” Misty muttered to herself, seething as her pokegear rang, “I’ll show you what happens when you mess with an Oak.”

*****