“Joy,” Alice spoke skeptically after greeting his pronouncement with several seconds of silence. “How the hell is ‘Joy’ a fundamental core for dark types?”
“What, you don’t find dark types to be joyful?” Bo joked, causing her to flush a little guiltily.
“I’m not saying I don't think there are kind dark type pokemon,” Alice said hurriedly, a hand unconsciously grazing the shrunken pokeballs clipped to her waist. “I mean, I love my pokemon and I know the Old Man’s pokemon are sweethearts and you three’s are, uh, playful, but I actually have researched dark type pokemon before meeting you. Statistically, dark types are known to be violent, cunning, and often outright cruel to anyone outside of select groups that they care about. Even my pokemon don’t really care about being nice to anyone who’s not me. How does that have anything to do with joy?”
“Everything,” Bo laughed. “See, people like to think that those who show empathy are happy while those who are cruel aren’t happy, but that’s not actually the case. Joy or lack-there-of doesn’t actually have a causal relationship with empathy or cruelty. Joy is a state of being, a feeling of happiness and satisfaction despite whatever circumstances you face. Once you look at it from that perspective, you’ll find that, more than any other group of living beings alive, dark types are amazing at holding onto joy, no matter what.
Fight a hard battle against a foe stronger than themselves; feel joy. Beat down and crush opponents weaker than themselves; feel joy. Get hurt and be wracked with pain; feel joy. Inflict pain and suffering on someone else; feel joy. Eat a piece of cake; feel joy. Watch the world burn to ash; feel joy!
That’s why so many criminals like working with dark types. It’s not that they’re inherently bad, it’s just that they can be taught to enjoy committing crimes and hurting others easily. Really, you can teach dark types to enjoy almost anything and drive them to improve at it. That’s the source of a dark type’s strength. Anger, sadness, doubt, all of that just gets in the way, but as long as they hold onto and embrace that sense of joy in what they do they can grow strong. You following?”
The teen looked like she’d swallowed something sour. “Kinda? I mean, I sort of get what you mean about dark types being happy, but that can’t really explain everything, right? If they’re happy doing anything, why aren’t more dark types nurse pokemon or baking assistants or something. If it’s really just about being happy all the time, why would so many dark types lean towards violence and cruelty?”
“Fair point,” Bo nodded. “But I'm afraid you’re not looking at it from the right perspective. Tell me, which is better: creation or destruction?”
“…Creation?”
“And what about life or death? Which one’s better.”
“…Life, Bo. The answer is life.”
Bo tried not to laugh at the worried tone in her voice. “Ok, now tell me why.”
Alice opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Her face contorted as she tried to find the words to articulate her reasoning before Bo finally continued without a response, his smile growing.
“You’re thinking that ‘it just is,’ aren’t you? It’s okay. That’s perfectly natural. You aren’t a dark type. Not yet at least. Try answering this instead. Which is easier: life or death?” He let her absorb his words in silence for a few moments before answering his own question once more. “The answer is death. The amount of effort and resources needed to kill something is infinitesimally smaller than the glut of resources needed to keep something alive. The same goes for destruction. It is far, far easier to destroy something than it is to create something.
That’s why dark types gravitate towards destructive urges. Dark types pursue joy and, on average, they feel more joy from accomplishing a goal rather than struggling towards a goal. Think of cake, for example. While you could come to enjoy toiling and struggling to get good at baking and make a delicious cake for yourself, it's far easier to simply enjoy eating a delicious cake that someone else made. If you don't have to pay for it, all the better. Dark types just take this to the extreme, naturally leaning towards easily accomplished acts of destruction rather than arduous journeys towards creation. Even their attacks show this. Bite, Crunch, Snarl, Taunt, Sucker Punch. They’re all visceral and brutal ways to inflict damage as easily as possible without any concern for artistry or fairness.
On the other hand, most other types shy away from their destructive urges. Despite it being so, so, so much easier to wreak death and destruction than it is to cultivate life and creation, almost every living being in existence has this powerful, ingrained belief that creation is better than destruction; that life is sacred and should be preserved at all costs. Even dark types aren’t completely free from this instinctive belief.”
A small thrill of happiness raced through Bo as he could actually see Alice pick up on the emphasis he’d put on one the words.
“Belief,” Alice repeated slowly, her lips mouthing the word a few times in thought. “You said that the fairy type draws strength from their beliefs.”
“Yes I did,” Bo agreed with a smile. “It’s one of the reasons I suspect the fairy type is so antithetical to the dark type. Powerful, ingrained beliefs like the sanctity of life empowers fairies while hindering dark pokemon. In fact, I’ve actually seen evidence and records of two Legendaries originating from Kalos that back my theories.
The Life Pokemon, the pinnacle of the fairy typing, is rumored to relentlessly spread and cultivate life in all shapes and forms, regardless of whether or not that life deserves to flourish or even if there are enough resources to sustain that life beyond the most menial and shallowest of existences. It acts completely and solely on the belief that life should exist wherever possible. Opposite it is the Destruction Pokemon, the pinnacle of the dark typing. It rains death and destruction on everything it sees, solely because it lacks any and all beliefs that might sway it from doing so. It just rides a constant stream of joy felt from succeeding in razing the world around it.”
Bo couldn’t help but release a cackle of laughter as he thought about the rumored Legendary that he had always wished to witness before being forced to leave Kalos. His spirit seemed to practically dance in glee and he felt his partners’ spirits quiver excitedly along with him.
“Just imagine it Alice. A being so free of any morals or ethics that it can do anything it wants, indulge in any pleasure, pursue nothing but pure, unadulterated joy. Wouldn’t that be absolutely amaz-” His voice cut off abruptly as he turned his head to find that Alice looked, well, distinctly not amazing. Rather, she looked rather pale. A tad constipated too. “Umm, you okay kid?”
“Uh-uh. I’m fine,” Alice replied with a tight voice that sounded anything but fine.
“Aarrrre you suurrrre, ‘cause I basically just implied that the key to growing as a dark type trainer is unabashed hedonism. That was supposed to be the fun news, but you kind of look like you just got punched in the face. Actually,” Bo tilted his head inquisitively, a sudden thought popping into his head. “Actually, you look like you just got another text from your mom.”
“Huh? What, no! I, how?” Alice stuttered nervously at his observation, her body clenching tightly in on itself before her body scrunched up in confusion. “Wait, I never told you when my mom texts me.”
Bo shrugged. “You might want to switch to actual phone calls if you want privacy. I can read people’s texts messages of the reflections in their eyes. It’s a little tricky, but it comes in handy. I’ll teach you after we cover picking pockets and locks.”
Alice just stared at him in consternation before her body shook once, then twice as shocked laughter bubbled up. “Hah-hah. Of course. Cause that’s normal. Why not?”
He gave her a few seconds to laugh, glad to see some of the heavy worry that had settled over her fall away, before prodding further. “So, your mom?”
“Haaah,” Alice sighed before nodding to herself. “My mom is… complicated. She’s a psychologist specializing in studying pokemon trainers, but she kind of, well, hates trainers. Not really fond of pokemon either. She thinks the oxytocin produced from bonding deeply with pokemon and the adrenaline produced when battling causes trainers to become unstable and unable connect with other humans normally. She calls it Trainer Mentality Disorder and often tries to ‘treat’ trainers by convincing them to sever their bonds and give away they’re pokemon.”
“Ah,” Bo said dully, even as a surge of revulsion at the idea of abandoning his pokemon. Sure, he’d had pokemon leave the team. Almost every trainer did at one point or another, for various reasons, but severing the bond he held with one of his partners for something as ridiculous as considering them a burden… Shaking his head to refocus, he turned back towards Alice. “And how does your mom feel about you being a trainer?”
“I’m not a trainer,” Alice answered, bitterness oozing into her voice. “At least as far as she’s concerned. I’m just supposed to be building up my resume because colleges and businesses still consider trainer records a good way to judge character. She actually wanted me to quit right after I made it to the conference last year, saying that I’d done good enough to get noticed and now I could focus on my actual future. Apparently, I’m going to attend Celadon University and then get a doctorate myself to come work for her. It took me weeks to convince her to let me keep my trainer license, and I only managed that because I told her I wouldn’t compete this season and just help out with Old Man's training camp. I um, might not have told her, literally anything real about Carmine Village or you guys… or about the Gym tournament.”
Bo’s eyes popped wide at that last mumbled comment, but Alice hurriedly kept talking before he could say anything. “Anyways, that’s not important. It’s just, what you were saying about letting go of morals and beliefs and only caring about satisfying whatever urge pops into your head reminded me of something Mom said about high level trainers. She said that they’ve let so much of themselves be consumed by their pokemon that they’ve lost sight of what it means to be human… That they’re more like monsters themselves than human beings.”
Bo slowly worked his mouth open and close for a few moments, mulling over what Alice had said. As much as he already found himself wanting to dismiss anything the woman said out of hand, he could tell that his mattered to her. She might not fully agree with her mom, but the idea of becoming a monster scared her. He had scared her, Bo realized with some remorse. “Your mom’s not entirely wrong,” he admitted slowly.
Seeing her shocked look in response, Bo held up a reassuring hand. “I mean, the way she put it sucks and is honestly a little offensive, but she’s at least partially right. Like I told you before, pokemon are born of aura, and those foundations I told you about are naturally ingrained into them from birth. In order for us as trainers to grow stronger and accumulate aura ourselves, we do strive to become more like pokemon. We deepen the bonds we hold with our teams, cultivate aura, and attune ourselves to type energy all in order to grow closer and closer to pokemon themselves. Once you get far enough down that journey, I guess you really can’t consider yourself as human as you were at the start.”
He paused for a moment to let her absorb his words before continuing gently. “I do think your mom’s missing a key point though. The bond we share with pokemon isn’t just a one-way streak. As much our partners change us, we change them too.”
Bo smiled as Alice’s eyes shot open in realization. “There’s not a trained pokemon alive that isn’t different from how they were in the wild. They embrace our culture, our values, our dreams, and even our deepest inner natures. As trainers, shying away from reciprocating just because we don’t want to be labeled as different from other humans is, well, it’s just cowardly.”
Bo was worried Alice might be hurt by his words, but to his relief, reminding her that she wouldn't be giving something up, but rather, she'd be sharing it with the partners she loved and cared about seemed to reassure her. He wasn’t done though.
“I also owe you an apology, Alice.” Her head whipped up in surprise at his words, but he just smiled bashfully. “When I was talking about how amazing losing yourself to joy and disregarding concern for life, I went too far and I think I made you nervous.”
“N, no it’s fine,” Alice tried to protest. “I was just being, uh…”
“Normal?” Bo finished for her. “Sensible, maybe? Completely justifiably concerned? It’s ok. Never be afraid to tell me if you have any doubts. I’m still new at this teaching thing, so I’d be surprised if I didn’t screw up now and then. See, and this might surprise you, but I actually sometimes struggle when interacting with other humans.”
“I, uh, didn’t notice?”
“Thank you,” Bo answered honestly. “It’s not that bad when I’m with people from Carmine Village or trainers like Dani or Carter, but pokemon, and especially dark types are the only ones that always seem to get me… Except for Absols. I still don’t get why those hate me. My point though, is that sometimes I do wish I could be even more like my dark types, that I could just completely do away with all the ‘human’ things I have trouble connecting with rather than keep trying.”
“Huh,” Alice murmured sympathetically.
“But,” Bo continued. “I should have made it clear that I know that I can’t do that. Not only would it not be healthy and completely wreck every relationship I have even within my team, but it also just wouldn’t work. Ghosts can't just follow their desires, psychics can't just collect knowledge, fairies can't rely just on belief alone, and dark types can't just wallow in joy. Nothing, not even a Legendary, can achieve their full potential by obsessing over one ideal or one path while throwing everything else away. That kind of thinking inevitably ends with you losing sight of what’s truly important without even realizing it. Hell, that’s how you wind up on one of those news reels about the latest megalomaniac that tried to take over a region or worse. Hah, trust me, no one needs any more of those nutjobs.”
“Good to know,” Alice chuckled alongside him. “Thanks for telling me all that Bo. It helps.”
“I’m glad. And with that out of the way, my young apprentice,” Bo straightened up with a renewed smile and spoke with a jokingly sage voice. “Are you still ready to move forward as a trainer.”
“I am, my crazy master,” Alice joked back, causing him to role his eyes in mock aggrievance.
“Fair enough. So, back before I got sidetracked extolling the virtues of being a murderhobo, the point I was trying to teach you is that dark type trainers tend to have a very specific key to connecting themselves to the dark type and growing their aura through that connection.”
“Joy,” Alice repeated, realization dawning.
“Exactly. We grow best by doing things that bring us joy, especially the things we’d normally shy away from because others consider it wrong, or weird, or even just embarrassing. Basically, anything from singing and dancing like no one’s watching to playing with homemade explosives or smashing fragile objects with baseball bats.”
Alice’s mouth dropped open as she looked at him with a stunned expression. “That’s it?! Why the Darkrai’s dingy sack didn’t you just say that from the beginning?!”
“I made a boo-boo,” Bo shrugged, relieved that she didn’t seem truly upset. “Now focus. Is there any activity you can think of outside of battling that you really enjoy doing?”
“I, umm,” Alice faltered, her brain clearly being thrown for a curve. “Wouldn’t I have noticed if something I already do helps grow aura?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Not if you didn’t understand what aura was and especially not if you were suppressing yourself because you didn’t think you should enjoy something. Also, you’re deflecting. Come on, what brings you joy? Dig deep. You don’t need to let the hedonistic destroyer of worlds out on parole or even give her a conjugal visit. Just answer the collect call.”
Her face flushing bright red, Alice mumbled something Bo couldn’t make out.
“What?”
“I…bagpipe”
“Huh?”
“Bagpipes, ok!” Alice cried out, her face still tamato berry red. “Playing them, I mean. I like playing the bagpipes for people! My mom made me try to learn a bunch of instruments as a kid, but I sucked at all of them except for the bagpipes, and she still hated it so she told me to stop, and I don’t even like the sound either, but I still didn’t want to quit because I really like playing for other people. Something about playing for an audience makes me happy, but it’s a really stupid instrument and I know no one wants to hear it! Happy?”
“Are you kidding? Bo asked excitedly, a kindling of inspiration sparking to life. “I’m thrilled! That might be even more perfect than I could have hoped for!”
“Seriously?” Alice responded. “You really think playing bagpipes can help me become a better trainer?”
“Oh yes,” Bo answered seriously, a toothy smile spreading across his face as his mind raced. “Trust me. I can work with bagpipes.”
“Should we start now?” Alice asked, her tone still confused, clearly uncertain as to what he was thinking.
Bo was tempted to say yes, but movement below them caught his eye and reminded him of other plans. “Not tonight, no. For now, don’t overthink it or stress about it, just try to remember how playing the bagpipes for people makes you feel and keep a lookout for that kind of feeling. When it comes, try to clear your mind and embrace the feeling. Your instincts will do the rest. As for tonight, we’re doing some team bonding. We're just in time too, because I think the others are wrapping up as well.” Bo pointed below them where the rest of the group was gathering together again to call an end to the day’s training.
Startling as she realized how long they must have been talking, Alice started to clamber to her feet. “Oh, shoot. We should probably hurry.”
“No worries,” Bo said, spotting a distinctive figure below. “I’ve got a shortcut.”
“Shortcu-eeek!” Alice shrieked in surprise as Bo gently nudged her off the ledge before sliding off it himself.
“WICKED! CATCH!”
*
A woman stood calm and composed in front of the famous Silph Co. HQ Building as a multitude of flashing cameras and microphone wielding reporters ringed her. The confident but engaging smile never left her face regardless of any of the idiotic questions the bottom-feeders shouted. With her immaculately feathered hair and tailored, burgundy pantsuit complete with a broad, black cummerbund, she portrayed the perfect mix of understated glamour, authority, and approachability. She’d made her stylist show her the poll results to prove it. All told, anyone competent should easily be able to discern her superiority to the fop glued to her side.
“The thing to remember people,” The diamond encrusted suit wearing, Steven Stone-wannabe next to her droned on while waving his gaudy new watch in the air for all to see… During her press conference. “Is that the true key to being the best at anything lies within the power of the mind. Whether in business, leadership, romance (thankfully long hours of practice kept her from curling her lips in disgust at the moron’s ham-fisted winking towards that bimbo from Vermilion View), or, eh, battling, it is a man’s ability to anticipate challenges and formulate a plan accordingly that truly defines the elite.”
“Indeed,” Fletcher Silph, third grandchild & eldest granddaughter (*ahem excluding the bastards, obviously) of Silph Co.’s founder interjected in a carrying voice. “That’s something that I learned firsthand from my own personal mentor, Saffron’s Gym Leader, Sabrina. And it is why I am confident in my inevitable triumph during this upcoming Indigo Pillars Tournament.”
Making sure to tilt her head obligingly so that the various cameras get all the needed angles, Fletcher refrained from smiling in satisfaction as they appropriately digested her words. If all went well, whatever soundbite they used should be sufficient for her needs.
“Miss Silph, Saffron Daily!” one of the mic wavers called out to her which she rewarded with a nod. “As you mentioned Gym Leader Sabrina and given your current pursuit to become a Gym Leader, why did you leave your position as a trainer with Saffron’s Gym in the first place? Any bad blood in the water?”
“No, absolutely not. I have nothing but respect for Gym Leader Sabrina and I parted ways from her on amicable terms,” Fletcher said in a companionable tone while internally promising to herself that she’d have the reporter’s career drawn and quartered. “Training has always been a true passion of mine, but as you all should know, Silph Co. is a family first organization. As the founders of the company, the Silph family itself strives to live up to this ideal, which is why I joined the company to support my brother when our father stepped down as CEO.”
“Bob Rupert from Indigo Inside. Are you saying your brother wasn’t capable of stepping up to run the company without your assistance, Fletcher?”
‘No shit.’
“Oh Bob, hitting me where it hurts! I’m going to remember that next time we’re on the golf course, you know?” Leoticus Silph (more commonly known as the fop, moron, oaf, Steven Stone-wannabe, spineless cretin, mewling coward, weak-willed cur, genetically similar flesh-sack, and the ever popular Party B of paternity suits/NDAs) greasily laughed with false humility while hooking an arm around her waist to pull her to his side with bruising force, as though evidence of her standing on her own would prove how much more competent she was than him… Which it should. “I like to think I have things well in hand, but what kind of big brother turns down his baby sister when she wants to play a part in the family business?”
‘The better question is, what kind of brother crawls sniveling to daddy about how her being independent, being competent, being powerful, makes him look deficient. Like he needs help with that. Keep it together Fletcher. Just swallow the acid. You’ll force ten times as much up all their throats soon enough.’
“That’s right Bob. My family has always made sure that they… had a place for me. I’m just so… thankful that they’re now supporting my own campaign to lead a Gym.”
‘And that they actually think I’ll allow any of them to mooch off the political power I’ll wield once everything is formalized.’
Mood thoroughly soured by now, Fletcher endured the remaining questions while sealed to the oaf’s side with poise before walking in lockstep with him back through Silph Co.’s tinted doors. Immediately upon hearing the sliding doors swish shut behind them, an invisible force ripped the cretin off her and sent him stumbling. Whirling around with a huff while straightening his skinny tie, Party B sneered at her.
“Classy, freak,” he hissed just loud enough for her to hear. “Would it kill you to act like an actual human being when you’re around our employees?”
‘Like they all hadn’t signed NDAs before they got within a hundred feet of the doors on their first day.’
“No, but allowing you in my personal space any longer might kill you. What, have you also lost the physical ability to stand on your own two feet?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I get in the way of your plan to endear yourself to everyone by acting like a frigid bitch?”
“You would be the expert on that, wouldn’t you? By the way, do say hi to your wife for me.”
“Will do. Likewise, do pass on my greetings to… oh right, no one.”
With a final parting sneer, the two parted ways in a hurry, with Fletcher on her way to her office with its much needed liquor cabinet. She still needed to see how much damage control she’d need to do from the flesh-sack fumbling that interview, but a drink first would definitely help. She pulled up short, however, when a beeping rang out from her Porygon watch. She scowled at the message displayed there but forced herself to change directions.
Walking deeper and deeper into the recesses of the company’s headquarters, Fletcher ultimately arrived outside a heavily sealed door, a stress headache already building. In several ways, the individuals on the other side of the door were even more loathsome than her genetically similar flesh-sack. Unfortunately, those same ways were exactly why they were here. They had capabilities she didn’t, and worse, she needed them. Taking a deep breath, she punched in the twelve-digit code to open the doors.
Immediately, Fletcher’s head felt like it would split open. Her face hurt. Her eyes hurt. Everything hurt as a flood of incomprehensible data scoured against her psyche in a cacophony of pain.
Within a room littered with computer monitors, a large Metagross floated silently. Its eyes glowed a dull blue in tandem with the four, twitching Metang hovering around it. A Xatu stood eerily still atop the living machine with both eyes open. On either side of it, an Alakazam and Orbeetle levitated dozens of markers and whiteboards covered in incomprehensible formulas. Off to the side, a portly Slowking sat sagely across a placid-looking Oranguru with an array of carved tiles between them. Dozens of Porygon2 bounced between the various screens. Finally, three identical men with unkempt purple hair and wearing wrinkled sweats hunched wearily over computers amongst piles of discarded soda bottles.
‘1000-111001010101*^(&)0101010010101010101
!$%$^^&^$ &_#(^*^)&_@*%^)10101&_&_@0111
10101010&_#(101-010100010010101000^1001110
1111-001^(*@0110001110001111000111-1011000
#$^^(&1010)^)&#%)$%_!_$(^*#*@)%001011110
0001#*^01000010-101101111@$)_&(001111-0110’
‘Eleven in sixteenth chance of the maiden being eaten by dragons. The land listens. One in eighteenth chance of a bagpipe solo in Winter. Seven in sixteenth chance of the fallen seraph ascending. Tubbiness totally triumphant. Dark moon.’
‘∀2m ∃p1,p2 : 2m = p1+p2, m ∈ ℕ
δ = (m + 1/2) λ / n
A = ∑ f ( x i ) Δ x’
‘μ = F/N = GMmr^2N >ρs = [λ(0)/λ(T )]2’
‘I put forward that Senora Kalvechky’s theorem of obsolete relativity supports Isaac Friffle’s dynamic impossibility hypothesis regarding the exponential effect the Milotic constellation’s migration has on the empirical effects of the Tauros constellation. Check.’
‘True, but you are overlooking the fact that Friffle’s doctorate was revealed to be formulated during the waning of the Haunter house in conjunction with the rise of the eastern Lapras star. In my humble opinion, such correlation renders all conclusions reliant upon Friffle moot. Double jump.’
“Arrggh!” Fletcher howled as she clutched at her pounding head. “ENOUGH! CEASE IMMEDIATELY! I SAID CEASE!!!”
Within a split second which felt like hours, the cacophony of noise faded from her mind as the room’s occupants rolled their eyes towards her. Her headache slowly faded to a dull burn while her nose fell under assault by an obnoxious odor of markers and unwashed bodies.
Slurrrrp. “Sup, Fletch?”
“It’s Ms. Silph or Gym Leader, Mr. Wilbur.”
“What’s my first name?”
“…Just give me the status update.”
“You’ve already gotten the analytics for over eighty percent of known viable opposition. If we face any of them, we can predict the battles with 99.3% accuracy and have a 94% probability of winning. The remaining known opposition require calculations of unquantifiable numbers-”
‘Unknown numbers.’
‘We’ve been over this Metagross, the variations in results indicates unquantifiability rather than unknowability.’
‘Unquantifiable numbers is an illogical designation.’
“Duuuudes,” one of the triplets interjected. “We are not having this debate sober and we can’t get stoned until we’re off the payroll. If you have to have it now, put it on private.”
“Anyways, the point is that we currently have an approximately 60% complete prediction model on the five remaining, known teams. First hand exposure might bump us up as far 71% or down to 52%.”
“Finally, we have a 32% complete prediction model on Anders Shaw estimated to stay at 32% even if he dropped his pants and spread it for us. Also, that 32% model still indicates a 100% probability of us losing. We recommend not fighting him.”
“Near every time you speak, I doubt why I’m paying you so much,” Fletcher spat acerbically. “We’ve got people doing rounds with our League contacts to keep us away from Shaw at least until the semifinals. None of this is new information nor does it require my presence. What’s changed?”
A different one raised his head and gestured to an image frozen on one of the monitors. “Metagross was having the Porygons do a final web crawl and some faces popped on the recognition software. Three elite tier trainers that dropped off the globe three years ago were recorded having a kiddie battle somewhere in Pallet about two months back. All three have a history of traveling together. All three have reached top eight in a tri-annual conference and two of them have actually won one of those conferences. Lastly, all three are recognized as dark type specialists. We dug around and it’s pretty much a guarantee that they’re here to compete.”
“Tsk,” Fletcher clicked her tongue angrily at the news. “Are they going to be a problem?”
The three identical winces did nothing to alleviate her mood. Eventually, one of them rolled their chair back to face her directly and spoke in a flat tone.
“You can’t beat them. Hold up,” he cut her off before she could retort to his conclusion. “We’re not messing you around. We’ve been doing a deep dive on this since… whenever lasagna day in the cafeteria was. We’ve already got the full team pinned down and have determined that there will be five of them, all gathered around an old clan settled up in Mt. Moon.
The first two shouldn’t be a problem. Keanu “Old Man” Moon is ancient, a relic back from the Great War. In his heyday, he was apparently right up there with the other big four geezers but, unlike them, he hasn’t been active at all since the war ended. Seeing as those other four battled regularly afterwards and are still all has-beens now, it’s pretty much a guarantee he won’t be a real threat.
Next is Alice Sae. She’s fodder, plain and simple. She’s only competed in two annual circuits and just barely qualified for the conference in the last one. Mentioned in a social media post that she trained under the Moon geezer. The data we collected says it would be out of character for the rest of them, but, unless she’s advanced exponentially in strength since the conference, the only real use for her is throwing her out as bait against some of the trickier competition. Won’t be an issue for us.
The three that popped up online are where the real problem is. We’ve never gone head to head with any of them but we have heard of them before. They used to make a lot of waves. All three pretty much disappeared from the trainer scene about three years ago, though. Attention spans being what they are, most people probably won’t even remember them anymore.
Carter “The Mad Bomber” Rosen, nee Phoebus, from Icirrus, seemingly has the least amount of experience; starting out as a trainer in the Kalos annual circuit in his mid-twenties and never making it past three badges. After that, he seemed to disappear again for a few years before participating in the Sinnoh tri-annual and blasting through all eight Gyms. Before becoming a trainer, he was actually running a bakery of all things. His known history before that is pretty spotty, but from what we can gather, he was born in Icirrus but spent most of his childhood in Kanto. He never really did much to get into the limelight once he joined the pro circuit, tending to skip out on interviews and avoid the media. Despite that, a lot of people thought he might be a dark Rapidash capable of going all the way during the Ever Grande about three years back. Pulled out some seriously crazy wins against trainers with years of experience on him.
He actually first got on people’s radar after beating Elite Four Phoebe in an exhibition match. People were expecting him to make some real waves after that, but he apparently turned down all sponsorship offers. Of the three of them, his performance tends to be the most sporadic from taking bigger risks & using reckless tactics. When they work out though, he’s the literal bomb as the meme goes. Tends to rely on his Houndoom as a sweeper for high-stake battles.
Next is Dani “The Brutal Beast” Maven, formerly Daniel Maven, from Ballonlea. She didn’t make it to the conference her first year, but we can confirm she spent the year after that training under a former Champion on the Isle of Armor, and apparently somehow snagged a bona fide Legendary and a regional starter from Alola while she was training with the guy. She’s also listed as the TM rights holder for Stomping Tantrum, Lash Out, and Burning Jealousy, alongside Upper Hand and Temper Flare; those last two not having even hit the global market yet.
We found a couple of old photos on the net of her alongside Leon, Raihan, Piers, Nessa, Milo and Sonia back when they were all competing in the annual circuit, so it looks like she was part of that whole generation, but, unlike all of them, she left the region the same year Leon became Champion. She won the first ever tri-annual conference she participated in in Unova. She lost to Marshal in her Elite Four run, but for a while after that, she was huge. Practically the face behind a bunch of female sportswear & glam-punk clothing lines, along with gear marketed towards female trainers. In regards to battle style, every single one of her pokemon is a close quarters combat expert and they all have dozens of tricks to prevent opponents from keeping their distance.
Lastly, Rainbow “Skittles” Moon is actually Keanu Moon’s grandson, and probably the one they’re pushing as a Gym Leader. Competed in four tri-annual conferences and won one of them in Sinnoh. Made it all the way to Cynthia before losing 3-6. That particular battle was the most watched video on PokeVision for nearly three months straight. Despite that, the guy didn’t do a lot of public business, just a couple of sponsorships with a toy company and some clothing merch. A bunch of companies crawled all over themselves to hire him as a security consultant, though. Apparently he’s crazy good at cracking security systems.
His name also popped up on the TM registry last year, having patented two move concepts, Psychic Noise & Dragon Cheer. He actually seems to have done it through the same company as Maven, but we can’t tell if they coordinated that. Battle-wise, the guy seems to base his tactics on whatever will piss his opponent off the most. Loves setting up trick plays and screwing over his opponents’ own tactics. His Umbreon is just insane with a huge range of moves and ridiculous stamina. It’s even got some unique moves in its pocket that veteran trainers & researchers are still trying to wrap their heads around. There’s barely any records of Rainbow losing when he uses it.”
“Honestly,” he finally concluded with a deep breath. “These people are monsters. With the type advantage they’ll have, all of our prediction models indicate they’ll beat us nearly as fast as Shaw would.”
‘This is 98% accurate with a minute margin of error,’ One of the psychic pokemon around them confirmed.
“How?” Fletcher growled in fury at the report that had been delivered to her in such a matter-of-fact tone. “How did you miss these people until now if they’re so blatantly a threat?! One sure loss we can bribe our way around but not two. Not at a few days’ notice.”
“Ehh,” one answered with a careless shrug. “Darkies are hard for seers to track or predict unless you know to specifically look for them. With them being off the grid and all, we had no reason to do that. Also, it looks like one of them has a Porygon-Z. The web’s literally littered with thousands of fake posts, pictures, and crap info of them so regular searches are useless. Anyone looking up their Trainerpedia pages gets told that all three of them are currently running a Swirlix farm out in the Galar countryside.”
“Not to mention what happened to the Porygon2s we sent out,” added one with a shrug. Seeing her furiously upraised eye, the man waved a hand towards half-a-dozen flickering monitors. “We sent twelve Porygon2 to snoop around for info on them, but only one came back. It… well it seems to have had a virus attached to it that we’re still trying to get rid of.”
With her headache rapidly rising, she leaned forward to peer more closely at the monitors he’d waved at, only to pull back in disgust. “What the Darkrai!?”
“Pretty much. If it helps, we had Orbeetle run a deep pixel analysis on the video. He’s confirmed that the pogo sticking and coordination shown are both real and impressive as fuck. The face on the other hand is almost certainly a deepfake.”
Fletcher growled in frustration at his words. “You mean to tell me that after I have spent millions on your services, provided you access to Silph Co.’s servers and dozens of Porygon2s, and bought you four freaking Metang to use as auxiliaries, you’ve managed to discern that former Elite Four Agatha doesn’t really spend her retirement bouncing up and down naked with a FUCKING POGO STICK LODGED UP HER ASS!?”
“I feel you Fletch. We were pretty bummed it was a fake too.”
“ARRRRGH! YOU COMPLETE, UTTER, IMBECILES. YOU INBRED EUGENICS REJECT TRASH. I’M GOING TO-ahh.” Her rage was cut off by the sound of microphone feedback screeching into her head. Something, somethings alien pressed down on her mind from all around. They brushed past all the defenses she’d carefully constructed over the years. They invaded her, analyzed her, dissected her, judged her, and ultimately… dismissed her. This last act, as the intrusion withdrew from her head, left her quivering in both fury and fear.
“Seeing as you’re paying top rate, we’re going to let that one go, Fletch,” one of them sneered coolly. “We have a reputation to uphold after all and people ought to know that, for the prices you’re paying, big daddies Wilbur bring home the goods. We were just saving the best for last. Once we figured out we couldn’t beat the darkies in a fight, we started looking into why they disappeared in the first place. All three of them could have been world-wide stars, but instead, they’ve spent the last three years hiding as nobodies and have only just now crawled out of their holes. Figure something must have happened, right? It took a while because, like we said, something dropped a shitstorm of fake news into the web and even the League seems to have suppressed some of it, but we eventually found the money. Check it.”
Reluctantly turning to face the three monitors that were sent floating prominently in front of her, Fletcher put aside her emotions to scan their contents. Slowly going through them, her eyebrows steadily rose to the top of her head as her mouth parted unbidden. Finally getting to the bottom of the report, her lips settled into an imperious grin as her brain started whirring with ideas.
Sluurp. “Honestly,” one triplet broke the silence. “Taking it all in together, I’m kinda surprised there was still a hole left for those idiots to crawl out of.”