“One, two, three!” Slate counted aloud, then swung his clasped hands upward, catapulting Cryote into the air. He and April then dashed out from behind their hiding place.
“Seriously? Didn’t you judge me for throwing Rodenki that time?” April huffed.
“Yeah, that was totally crazy!” Slate responded. “But desperate times…”
“What the…?” said the nearest Team Shade grunt in surprise when he spotted them running toward him. He had other problems, though. From above, Cryote released a booming Echoed Voice directly at him, which blasted the man off his feet before he knew what was happening.
While April headed off in Rodenki’s general direction, Slate stopped briefly to release the netted Miltank, then proceeded to the next nearest suit. “Oi, loser!” he yelled, then unclipped Eevee’s capsule from his belt, took aim, and pitched the ball as hard as he could.
The bony-faced man spun around just in time for Eevee’s ball to smack him square in the face before releasing the Pokémon within.
Eevee bleated happily as it took form, while its Silph Ball zoomed back to Slate. “Eevee, these guys are stealing Pokémon!” said Slate. “Quick Attack!”
Eevee gave a menacing yet adorable growl, dug its paws into the grass, and sped at the Team Shade member like a cannonball.
The man buckled over as the fluffy Pokémon plowed into his abdomen. He lost hold of his net and dropped to the floor, nursing a bloody nose, and gasping for air.
“Good job, Eevee! Now keep him away from the Miltank!”
Across the field, another yellow flash followed April’s command, “Rodenki, Thundershock! Zunshin, Double Team!”
Slate smiled momentarily, safe in the knowledge that April had indeed learned something at the Pokémon School. Behind him, Cryote growled dangerously at their first target, who was crying out now.
“Parker, help! I didn’t sign up for this!” he cried as Cryote planted a Bite on his leg.
“What’s going on over there?” Slate heard the indigo-haired man reply. “Dawkins, Conway, what are you two doing? Jarvis, get up! Who are these kids?”
The jig was up. But Slate wasn’t finished. With one man down, April handling another, and Cryote and Eevee keeping the remaining two occupied, he sprinted toward their leader.
Parker was taller than Slate and looked to be in his mid-twenties. Unlike the besuited clones, his spiky blue hair, untucked shirt, and lack of tie gave him the casual air of a rock musician. When Slate reached him and threw an adrenaline-fueled punch, the man dodged effortlessly and tripped him.
“Who do you think you’re messing with, kid? I’m not like these part-timers. I’m an agent!” said Parker, pointing to his black jacket’s white ‘S’ insignia.
Rising immediately, the boy replied, “I don’t care who you are or what evil gang pyramid scheme level you’re at! Leave these Pokémon alone or—”
“Or what?” the man interrupted.
Slate reached for his Poké Belt but instantly regretted it when Parker made the same motion. His opponent had two Silph Balls on his belt but surely had capable Pokémon inside them. Slate, on the other hand, had three, all completely untrained. Still, while his strongest Pokémon were busy, Crimsant seemed like his best option right now, assuming it obeyed him.
“Take care of this, Mystyke!” ordered Parker, releasing a small black and pink Pokémon with big violet eyes, tiny horns, and a devilish grin.
It looked familiar to Slate.
*Ping.*
SPECIES
#031 Mystyke
DERIVATION
Mystical + Tyke
CATEGORY
Mischievous
COLORING
Black
Pink
Violet
TYPE
Dark
Fairy
ABILITIES
Trick
Levitate
Misty Surge
DETAILS
This immature Pokémon derives joy from playing tricks on others. It is known for hiding possessions and causing minor accidents but doesn’t have a malicious nature.
“Go, Crimsant!” Slate called, glad that it would at least be an even type matchup. As Crimsant emerged from its ball, he was happy to see Parker frown with concern about facing the evolved Akant queen. He just prayed she wouldn’t turn on him this time.
BATTLE: Slate VS Team Shade Agent Parker
Thankfully, Crimsant’s attention was drawn by the creature before it, and she immediately charged after igniting her scissor-like jaws.
“Fire Fang!” slate commanded after the fact, trying to cover for the untrained Pokémon’s rash leap to action.
Parker had seen through this, though. “You’re not fooling anyone. Mystyke, Baby-Doll Eyes!”
“Crimsant, look away!” said Slate, remembering the effect of the Fairy-type Status move.
The creature didn’t heed his advice, though. It paused briefly, captivated as its foe’s large eyes blinked with faux innocence, then continued its assault, unaware that its strength had been hindered. Its attack landed but only made the Mystyke stumble a little.
“Mystyke, keep it away with Fairy Wind!” Parker ordered, and his Pokémon summoned a dazzling pink gust that carried Crimsant across the grass.
Crimsant immediately charged again only to be rebutted. Fairy Wind wasn’t a strong move, or one that was very effective against the Bug/Fire-type, but Slate could tell that Parker was trying to prevent his physically inclined monster from getting in range to use its moves. The man knew what he was doing.
“That’s it, Mystyke, don’t let it get close,” said Parker.
“Crimsant, use your speed, move around the field, and attack with Bug Bite,” Slate advised.
The Pokémon began moving differently, whether because of Slate’s order or by its own judgment, and managed to get in range to slash with its sharp mandibles. However, even after accounting for its lowered Attack power, Crimsant’s move didn’t seem to be doing much damage.
“When it gets close, use Backhand,” Parker instructed the unphased fairy, which proceeded to slap Crimsant. It wasn’t a harsh blow, but it clearly did more damage than the bug’s move.
Confused by this, Slate consulted his Pokédex, which when pointed at the continued back and forth, revealed that Backhand was a Dark-Type move, and so was Bite, the one Crimsant was employing.
“No wonder it’s not doing any damage,” Slate said to himself, knowing that a Dark-type move was ineffective against Mystyke. “Crimsant, use Bug Bite, not Bite!”
Crimsant wouldn’t listen, though, which Parker found very amusing. “You actually thought these weaklings could beat me, kid?” he taunted.
The insect queen’s movements slowed with every Backhand and Fairy Wind combo until it finally keeled over, and Slate recalled his fighter. He looked around briefly to see how the others were faring.
Apparently, Parker wasn’t the only enemy with a Pokémon. April was engaging a Mardupe with her Zunshin, while Eevee and Cryote were squaring off with a Giladon. Slate knew they could handle themselves, though, even without instruction. So, with trepidation, he reached for his next Pokémon.
“Go, Uglay,” he said nervously.
Parker laughed derisively when the eggshell-covered bird Pokémon emerged, and so did his Mystyke.
Slate blushed and frowned indignantly. Then, before he had even given the order, “Fake Tears”, Uglay began to cry obnoxiously, dramatically lowering Mystyke’s Special Defense.
“Mystyke, Baby-Doll Eyes!” said Parker.
Slate gritted his teeth at seeing Parker employ his effective strategy again, but he reminded himself that Attack power didn’t matter this time. He was going to use a Special move now that Mystyke was vulnerable to them. “Uglay use Gust!”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Brace yourself!” called Parker. However, the windy assault never came.
“Uglay use Gust!” Slate repeated as the odd creature continued to sob. It was no use. Either it wasn’t obeying his orders like Crimsant, or it couldn’t hear them over its incessant caterwauling.
“Enough of this,” Parker said, wiping away tears of laughter. “Mystyke, Double Slap!”
“You can beat it if you just use Gust!” Slate emplored as the cute fairy creature began relentlessly slapping his Uglay, which only made it cry harder.
“Now, Fairy Wind!”
The close-range Special move carried Uglay high off its feet. It landed and rolled toward Slate, silent at last. The boy returned it to its Silph Ball, feeling a mixture of shame and fury as he reached for his last hope. All he could do now was keep Parker busy until the others joined him. With a deep breath, he uttered, “Go, Larvoid.”
The red maggot Pokémon emerged with a soft thud.
“Ha! It’s like you want to lose!” taunted Parker.
Slate’s brow furrowed in determination. He did not want to lose. Not again, and not to a guy like this. He may be down, but he wasn’t out. “Larvoid, use String Shot!” he commanded, hoping to at least inhibit Mystyke’s movement.
Unlike his last two Pokémon, the pulsating larva responded to his order. However, Slate’s insides seemed to freeze when it fired its sticky line in the opposite direction. The featureless monster was facing the wrong way!
“Mystyke — use Double Slap!” Parker said between howls of mirth.
Trying to hold onto what he thought might be his last shred of sanity, Slate shakily ordered, “Turn around and use Tackle!”
Larvoid complied with an odd flopping motion, but Mystyke delivered its move first. Each slap that landed left a physical impression on Larvoid’s featureless squishy sack of a body, but they would simply rebound, leaving it unclear whether it had taken damage. Then, it convulsed and propelled toward its foe.
Much to Slate and Parker’s shock, Larvoid’s Tackle knocked Mystyke off its feet. It put Slate in mind of a spring-loaded boxing glove.
“What was that?” Parker questioned in disbelief.
Slate wasn’t sure but for the first time during this battle, he felt hopeful. “Good job, Larvoid,” he praised. “Use Tackle again!”
“Mystyke, Baby-Doll Eyes!”
Larvoid’s body contracted again before shooting at its adorably blinking opponent. Slate watched the supposed ‘dud’ of a Pokémon in wonder, imagining a nocked arrow being drawn tightly, then loosed from a bow. The Mystyke was sent flying.
“B-but… How?” Parker stammered, returning his fainted servant to its capsule. “Larvoids are supposed to be useless! Besides, it should have been weakened by Baby-Doll Eyes.”
Slate considered this. The answer was staring him in the face—or wasn’t, as the case may be. “Larvoid doesn’t have eyes!” he announced triumphantly. “It couldn’t see Mystyke’s Status move.”
“Yeah, well, two can play at that game,” said Parker childishly, shaking his head while reaching for his belt. “Go, Larvice!”
Parker’s reserve Pokémon was another of Nutera’s identical Bug-types but green in color. Slate knew better than to judge a book by its cover given Larvoid’s surprise performance, but he was relieved. If Team Shade was hanging their hopes of taking the Miltank by force on this single bug, they had another thing coming.
As if to reinforce his assessment, April called out from behind Slate, and barks sounded to his right.
“Slate,” said April, running toward him as the thug she was facing could be seen beyond, dragging another in the direction of the helicopter. “You, okay?”
He nodded as April took his left side and Cryote and Eevee joined him on the right, growling menacingly at Parker and his Larvice.
“Cryote, Eevee, protect April while she frees the other Miltank,” Slate instructed. “Me and Larvoid can handle this.”
“You and Larvoid?” April said dubiously. “Oh, never mind. Let’s go, guys!”
As she and the Pokémon made a dash for the helicopter’s cage, the old woman Slate had seen earlier was edging toward him, clasping her hands apprehensively.
“This battle isn’t over,” the blue-haired man spat in anger, even as his flunkies limped toward their getaway vehicle. “Larvice, Sting Shot,” he commanded as the chopper’s blades began to spin.
“Larvoid, roll to your left, and use Tackle!” Slate ordered, and the red maggot creature dodged perfectly before tightening its body once more and firing across the field. He could only assume the larvae Pokémon detected their surroundings to some degree using sound or vibrations because the attack was on target.
Parker’s equally squishy Larvice absorbed some of the impact, causing Larvoid to ricochet, but Slate was sure the move had done some damage.
“Larvice, use your Tackle!” Parker commanded.
Slate watched closely as Parker’s bug returned fire, so to speak. Following their collision, the two bugs just flopped against each other. He wasn’t sure why, but it was clear that Larvice’s Tackle lacked power compared to Larvoid’s. Intrigued, he manually searched for the former’s Pokédex entry—since scanning it wouldn’t help—and compared it to the latter’s.
SPECIES
#035 Larvice
DERIVATION
Larva + Vice
CATEGORY
Larva
COLORING
Pale green
-
-
TYPE
Bug
-
ABILITIES
Swarm
Wriggle
Overcoat
DETAILS
While it shares its physical appearance, behaviors, and habitat with multiple Bug-type Pokémon native to Nutera, it is classified as a distinct species. Pokéologists are still investigating their connection.
“Keep using tackle, Larvoid,” said Slate.
“You too, Larvice,” said Parker.
The two wriggling Pokémon continued bouncing off each other, neither showing any sign of relenting despite Larvice being knocked further when it took hits.
“Oh, I get it,” said Slate to himself as he looked up Nutera’s identical Bug-types.
“What? What do you get?”
“People here think Larvoid is a ‘dud’ because it can’t evolve, but they’re wrong. It has a unique ability.”
“What are you talking about? They all have Swarm or Wriggle.”
Slate shook his head, feeling vindicated, and swelling with pride for the accidental catch that was allowing him to continue fighting. “My Larvoid’s ability is Huge Power!”
Parker looked skeptical but a look at the battlefield seemed to confirm his doubts. “So, your Larvoid’s Attack power is doubled?”
“Yep. The only reason the battle hasn’t ended already is because of their high Defense, but I’ve got a solution to that. Larvoid, use String Shot, and don’t let up!”
“Huh? Wait, Larvice, you do it too,” Parker added after a few moments of hesitation, but he was too late. His green maggot was already being covered in Larvoid’s thread.
“With all that String Shot covering Larvice’s bouncy body, it won’t be able to absorb as much of the impact from attacks,” shouted Slate over the hum of the helicopter. “Larvoid, give it your strongest Tackle!”
Larvoid contracted as much as it could before soaring at its encumbered foe like a rocket. As Slate had predicted, instead of ricocheting this time, Larvoid’s power and momentum sent Larvice hurling into its master, who was knocked off his feet.
BATTLE WINNER: Slate
Parker looked furious as he rose with his unmoving Pokémon in his arms. “I’ll get you for this kid!” he yelled before departing for the waiting chopper.
Slate watched as the man climbed inside the flying machine, and it lifted off with the defeated thugs inside and its cage empty.
----------------------------------------
Following the confrontation with Team Shade, Sarah, the lady who owned the farm with her husband, Bob, insisted Slate and April stay for dinner. Inside her cozy farmhouse kitchen, she cooked up sausages and mash and fed the able Pokémon fresh Moomoo Milk, which appeared to do them wonders.
“I still can’t believe this happened,” Sarah fretted, as she plated up food. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Bob. He’ll blame himself.”
“Why?” asked Slate.
“If they had been here, Bob and the Tauros would have protected the herd. He took them to graze a few fields over, you see.”
“Do Tauros they have Nuteran forms too?”
“Yes, and they’re very protective of the Miltank and Halfencalf. It’s as if those thugs knew…” Sarah shook her head. “If it weren’t for the two of you, we would be out of business! Nutera’s whole supply chain would be in crisis!”
“I think that was the idea,” said April astutely.
“How do you mean?” asked Slate, skewering a sausage with his fork.
“We’ve already seen what’s happening with price gouging in Nutera. If there was a Moomoo Milk shortage, the price of products that use it as an ingredient would soar, including Silph’s potion range.”
Slate and April exchanged knowing glances.
“Have you got a place to stay tonight?” Sarah enquired after the pair filled their bellies. “You’re welcome to sleep here.”
“Thanks, but we’ve got to get back to Hazell Town for the Bug-Catching Contest presentation,” April explained, checking the time on her Rotom Phone. “In fact, we’ve got to go now!”
“Oh, already?”
April pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from her bag, and then scrawled something down. “This is my phone number. Please let us know if you decide to involve the police. We’re happy to give statements.”
“Absolutely,” Slate agreed.
“Thank you, I’ll let you know once I talk to Bob. Good luck to both of you! And here, please take these,” said Sarah, smiling warmly as she offered a stock of Moomoo Milk bottles to each of them.
“Oh, we couldn’t accept—” started Slate.
“That’s so kind of you, Sarah! Thank you!” April interrupted.
Slate stared at the girl openmouthed, feeling as though he was having a particularly strong Déjà vu.
----------------------------------------
After Slate wondered aloud whether they might be disqualified from the contest if they were late to accept a prize, he and April jogged back to Hazell Town, their calves screaming in protest. Between entertaining thoughts of battling Melissa, he couldn’t help chuckling to himself. The birthday he had all but forgotten about had turned into one he would always remember.
“What?” April snapped a few meters behind him after his latest outburst.
Slate grinned wickedly. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how you’re trailing me. It’s like a preview of the contest results,” he teased.
“We’ll see about that!” April responded, putting on a sudden burst of speed.
At fifteen minutes past eight, they staggered to a halt behind Hazell Town Pokémon Center, where a crowd was dispersing.
“That was so cool!” a passerby exclaimed.
“No one beats Melissa!” said another.
“Missed it!” April wheezed, bending over to catch her breath.
“’Scuse me,” Slate exhaled, “Did you see — who won?”
An older male Trainer in a green tracksuit, answered, “Yeah, some dumb kid called Howie. Melissa creamed him, of course. What a noob!”
“Howie?” April exclaimed recognizing the name of the Trainer who had beaten Slate not too long ago. “Not that — little twerp?”
“And what about — second and third place?” panted a dejected Slate, his legs wobbly.
“Over there,” said the Trainer, cocking his head in the direction of the practice field’s electronic scoreboard, which currently displayed the names of the top ten contestants.
Slate and April scanned for their names, eager to learn which of them had beaten the other and whether either of them had won a prize. However, neither of their names were listed. They hadn’t even placed in the top ten. The pair looked at each other with vacant expressions, breathless and dripping with sweat, and collapsed into laughter.
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