-The Dragon King-
-Arc Start: New World Blues-
-New World Blues: Ch 1-
“Dragon Type Pokemon food- premium brand, long lasting. Water filter. Metal water canteen, two. Easy Raise Tent- bargain brand and I have a coupon. Cheap blanket. Portable electric stove. Solar charged battery. Metal pot. Dried Rattata jerky- value bundle. Various canned soups that were buy one get one free. Flashlight. Pocket knife. And this cheap ass backpack from the bargain bin”
Mark dropped his starter supplies onto the counter of the Pokemart front desk with an odd sense of pride.
“This is everything I need to start an adventure.”
The cashier- a minimum wage teenager, looked up from her phone and raised a judgemental eyebrow at him.
“Do you, like, want something to carry that in?”
“That’s what the backpack is for.”
“Naaah, dude. Like, there’s a reason that’s in the bargain bin, it’s out of style. Get the Sylph Co’ one.” She nodded towards a rack of very nice looking bags with machine parts built into a metal bottom. All of the bags were behind a protective glass case. “They work like Pokeballs, shrink things into energy n’ stuff. They're on sale right now, since all the Trainer schools just wrapped up, it’s only 3k per, a total steal.”
“3k? As in three thousand? For a bag ?” Mark forced out a painfully fake laugh and leaned on the counter. “Lady, I have a hundred dollars to my name. I’m not taking out a loan for a backpack.”
“Oh. You’re one of those .” The cashier lowered her phone and regarded him oddly. “Y’know, going on a Pokemon journey won’t help with whatever midlife crisis you’re having.”
“It’s not a midlife crisis until I start a shitty rock band, now shut up and take my money.”
The teen shrugged and punched in his total.
“Whatevs dude. Like, live your life and find your way.”
“Oh I’ll find my way alright. I’ll find it right to Oreburgh.” Mark chuckled darkly to himself. “And that badge will be mine !”
And when he won, the reward money would give him the small boost he would need to buy actual things, instead of discount brand soup!
“Fucking Boomers, man.”
“I am barely in my late twenties!”
-The Dragon King-
‘Dear Dawn, I hope this letter finds you well. Firstly I want to congratulate you on your newest Contest Ribbon, I saw the highlights and was very impressed. Secondly I wanted to once again thank you for the work you have done for me. The more Pokemon you catch for me to study, the closer we get to truly understanding the magical creatures that we live alongside.
As you know, you are a trainer sponsored and licensed by my lab. This gives you many advantages such as a monthly stipend, a regional starter, and a Pokedex, but it also means you’re obligated to help me with my research.
Like many things in life, I strive to emulate Professor Oak, and typically have kept a very hands off approach to your sponsorship. I feel like your rapid progress representing my lab in both the Gym and Contest circuits, as well as all the Pokemon you send back for me to study, has proven it the right choice.
But I’m afraid I have to ask you to break course for me. I’ve been informed that two new trainers in Eterna city, which so happens to be where you are right now, have acquired particularly rare starters- one of which was not thought to be native to Sinnoh.
I would like you to meet them and monitor them for a few days. Both to take notes on their Pokemon, as well as to make sure they haven't bitten off more than they can chew with their starter type choices.
-Professor Rowan.’
Dawn’s eye twitched as she re-read the message on her phone.
“You couldn’t have sent this before I trekked all the way up to the entrance of Mount Coronet, old man?”
She had been walking since morning, her clothes were all dirty, her feet hurt, her hair was all tangled, and she was covered in sweat. And now not only was it all worthless, she had to do the climb all over again in reverse!
She huffed and shoved her phone in her mini-skirt’s pocket.
“These had better be some rare Pokemon.”
-The Dragon King-
The sun was beating down on the earth from above, somehow managing to not dry up any of the mud that seemed to infest West Sinnoh, but just make it uncomfortably warm.
But nonetheless Marcus felt more alive than he had in years.
Here he was! Out exploring a new world! He was like Christopher Columbus!
The only difference was that everywhere here had already been mapped out thoroughly and settled by modern civilization. BUT the fact this was a genuine new world, instead of a “new world” in quotation marks, had to make him a really close second!
JUST like Christopher Columbus, except slightly worse and less impressive.
If his parents could see him now, they would be proud. Well, they would have a lot of questions, but they would probably be proud.
“Baaaaaag.”
“Oh stop complaining, we’re partners in this, we tag off who carries the supply backpack every mile.”
“Bag!”
“We don’t have the money to buy a fancy tesseract bag! Just think of this as weight training.”
It was remarkably easy to talk to a Pokemon. 80% of the time Mark had absolutely no idea what Bagon was trying to say, but if he just responded with enough confidence no one could tell the difference. It was kind of like talking to yourself in the mirror, you could just vent your frustrations.
“Bagon!”
“Yes, that’s right! You do have the Bag On you. Very good English- er, Japanese? What the fuck are we speaking anyway?”
There wasn’t a direct road from Eterna city to Oreburgh, despite the two being a straight line north and south of each other, mainly because of the rugged terrain and cliffs around Oreburgh. But there was still a way to travel between them, without having to go West in a big loop around Floaroma town and Jubilife city.
Route 206 would take you directly South from Eterna city, and onto the very underdeveloped route 207, which you could use to enter Oreburgh from the North if you’re willing to scale down a semi-steep cliff face.
Naturally, Mark had been interested about the in-world reason why two of Sinnoh’s largest cities weren’t connected in any direct way. The drama-tuber he’d watched on the Pokecenter PC had been more than eager to explain how everything was actually really just the fault of rich people, while playing suspenseful music on repeat in the background and acting like he had solved the crime of the century.
The Cycling Road. It was an “environmentally friendly” haven for bicycle enjoyers, built and funded by Sinnoh’s richest bachelor after he saw Kanto’s Cycling Road and decided he wanted one. He bought the mountainous stretch of land between Eterna and Oreburgh, only to run out of cash 2/3rds of the way through and end it prematurely.
It was as massive as some of the largest American highways, except even more egregious because it was made entirely for bicyclers instead of cargo trucks, and while the interstate roads back home worked to connect a country the width of a continent, this piece of garbage didn’t even make it the full distance between two cities.
The one in Kanto was funded by several companies, sponsored by the Kanto league, and was a massive bridge that arched over the ocean and helped connect the entire region.
“Compaired to that one, this just fucking sucks.” Marcus grumbled to himself as he trekked through the unpaved muddy forest at the bottom of the shallow-ish ravine, while the bright lights of the Cycling Road were visible far above even in the height of day. “And what’s with all the mud!? I know this region is famous for having the great marsh, but come on! When I make it big I’m gonna hunt down that guy and buy this whole route from him! I’ll finish the road, and get rid of the dumb bike requirement, so that people can actually use it as a road.”
“Bag.” The little dragon responded, pretending like he understood what his trainer was going on about.
“Nah, you just don’t have the vision ! It’s gonna be huge! We’ll even pave over all this and put beautiful Wallmart here, just as a big fuck you to all the mud!”
“Bagon!”
A rustling of the tall grass nearby interrupted the pair’s deep and meaningful conversation, drawing their attention as a bleached blue Pokemon stepped out from the shade of a tree and charged at them with an eager warcry. Mark might have found it more intimidating, if the Pokemon wasn’t under three feet tall.
It was a Machop. The third one they’d encountered today, in fact, and looking for a fight just like the rest had. Maybe that was just a thing for fighting types?
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“Bagon, use Dragon Breath!” Mark commanded as he grabbed his backpack from his little buddy, and marveled at the wave of blue fire that slammed into the low level Machop.
“Take notes, Bagon. Machop is a purely physical fighter, your best stat is also physical attack, but when you completely outrange someone, always take advantage of it! My home country used to have these big aircraft carriers, and we used the range advantage it gave our airforce, to just ruthlessly bully enemy armies without them being able to shoot back at our main force. It didn’t always work, but even when it didn’t, it made it so that any loss we took was fundamentally way less than the potential damage we could inflict.”
Bagon listened to his trainer, and Mark attempted to poorly explain modern military tactics to his blue lizard, while in the background Machop screamed in agony and frantically rolled around in the mud to put out the fire.
“So, in this situation, you can hit your opponent from a distance, but your opponent can’t hit you back unless you get close. What’s the play?”
“BAGON!” His starter shouted as he charged up another blast of blue dragon fire in his mouth.
“That’s right! Hit him again, with another Dragon Breath!”
“MachaaaaaAAAA! AAAAAH! MACHAAAAAAAA AAAAHP!! ”
Was spamming Dragon Breath a bad habit he was falling into?
Nah, that was nonsense. It was just that it was Bagon’s strongest move, and Pokemon got bonus damage for using moves that were their type. Crap, what was the in universe explanation for that game mechanic? Uh, something about Type Energy? He didn’t even know what that was.
“Whatever, we won, and that’s all that matters.”
Mark and Bagon took a break to eat some food and rest, checked the compass again, and continued South.
-The Dragon King-
The day dragged on, and the sun made its way through the sky, dipping low on the horizon, and bringing out the beginnings of dusk.
Dusk, when combined with route 206 being a ravine/valley thing that skirted the western edge of Mount Coronet, and was surrounded by massive rocky cliffs full of shallow caves, meant Zubat. A lot of Zubat. He wasn’t even going into the caves and he’d already run into half a dozen.
Luckily they were Zubats, and Zubat’s design philosophy was being weak cave fodder.
“Nice hit!” Marcus said with a light clap as Bagon rammed into the blue bat and sent its frail skinny body flying into a tree trunk, knocking it out cold.
“You’re getting really good at putting your whole body into your headbutt. You just nailed that guy. Keep that up, we’re gonna need that kind of punch for the Gym.”
Bagon barked happily as he ran back to Mark and preened proudly at how well he’d been bullying the weaker wild pokemon. Mark happily rewarded him with a chin scratch, and a piece of jerky.
“You think you’re ready for the Gym?” Mark asked, and Bagon nodded with complete confidence, knowing nothing about what that was.
“Glad to hear it! You see, this guy we’re gonna fight, the Gym leader, his name’s Roark. He might look tough at first, but he’s a total pushover. He’s got a Geodude and an Onix, the Onix especially might scare you at first, it’s a giant ass Rock snake, and both of them have really high physical defense, but their special defense stats fucking suck. I can’t remember the exact numbers off the top of my head, but I guarantee you they’ll roll over after a couple ranged attacks.”
Bagon gave him a questioning look.
“Yeah, as I said, they’re pushovers, don’t worry about it. It’s his last guy that we need to worry about, his trademark Cranidos. Like the other two it has pretty garbage special defense, but it hits like a fucking truck to make up for it.”
Marcus absentmindedly explained as the two continued their march through the tall grass, dense tangle of bushes, and roadless forest of Route 206. The last sunlight of the day filtered through the canopy, casting shadows on the forest floor, while the crisp scent of pine filled the air, and the noises of distant unseen Pokemon brought the world to life.
“Y’all are kind of similar, actually. Short, two legged pokemon, with stubby arms, a thick skull, and a bluish gray color scheme. It’s the same key notes.”
“Bag!”
“Hey, I’m not saying you’re the ripoff, I’m just-”
Suddenly, Marcus froze, his mouth snapping shut, and his heart lurched to a standstill as he stumbled upon a massive brown wall of fur and claws.
It was a Ursaring. A huge Ursaring, its fur a deep, daunting brown that contrasted against the green backdrop, and was covered in deep red that contrasted again against the brown fur. With claws the size of kitchen knives, and teeth curved like a trick dagger, it noisily feasted on a dead Ponita.
Time seemed to slow slightly as adrenaline surged through his veins and his fight or flight kicked in. Marcus took a deep breath and forced himself to push through the fear that had frozen in place.
The Ursaring hadn’t noticed them. That was good, that was great even. And at some point he had unconsciously grabbed his hand around Bagon’s snout, so his starter couldn’t give them away.
This was manageable. It was a massive Bear that looked like it could snap a tree trunk by leaning against it, and that Bagon would have absolutely no way in Hell at beating, but it was fine . Everything was fine , this was manageable. As long as your weren’t being threatening or intruding on their den, most types of bears Bears weren’t extremely aggressive, unless-
“Oh, fuuuuck me sideways and call me sheila.” Mark whispered to himself, borrowing from an old Aussie friend, as he watched a Teddiursa cub climb over the log, followed by four others.
Not only was he dealing with a big bear that would be protective of its food, it was a momma bear with cubs nearby.
Being as careful as possible to not make any noise, dragging Bagon along with him, Mark slowly backed away. And when he had reached what he believed to be a good enough distance, his slow creep turned into a sprint.
-The Dragon King-
It was almost midnight when Marcus finally stopped to set up camp, and he was quite proud.
Even after choosing to make a wiiide detour around the bears, he had still made good time.
This was a trip that the Pokenet had suggested to pack supplies for four to five days, and he’d done most of the legwork in just under one. The terrain was on a general incline, and getting steeper as the mountains got closer, which meant route 206 was coming to a close.
“You know, I’m surprised you managed to keep up with the pace of a military forced march. I figured your tiny legs would tire out, and I’d have to put you back in your ball.”
Marcus said to his starter, who was currently sprawled out on a blanket, while alternating between gulping down a canteen of water and chowing down on Pokefood.
Bagon had the audacity to look offended at the suggestion, but couldn’t tear himself from his nutrient rich meal to verbally protest. Instead he settled on glaring.
“Yeah, yeah, fire breathing dragon that can crack small boulders with a headbutt, and shrug off lightning bolts, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Mark chuckled and went back to heating up his first gourmet dinner of his adventure!
Cheap store brand tomato soup, heated up on a budget electric stove that couldn’t seem to get the broth past lukewarm.
He dipped his finger in, and gave it a taste.
“Eh.” He made a so-so gesture. “No seasoning, but better than most field rations. I should have remembered to buy spoons, though.”
Marcus let out a yawn as he stretched his arms, and layed back on the ground. He stared up through the small break in the tree canopy above them, and watched as a flock of Stary and Staravia flew overhead.
“I wonder if Starly would taste more like dove or chicken? Hmm… Do you think we could save money by hunting for food while we travel? Do I need a license for that?” Mark trailed off as his mind wandered aimlessly on the idea of bureaucracy involving Pokemon. “Are there any endangered Pokemon that I could get in trouble for trying to catch? I mean, there’s the safari zone, which was kind of like a big nature preserve.”
…
…
…
He sat up and dipped his finger in the pot again.
Still just lukewarm.
“Damn.”
The peaceful evening was abruptly ruined by a terrified scream.
Immediately Marcus’ survival training, and paranoia from living in warzones, had him on his feet and rapidly extinguishing every light source in his camp- the flashlight, the lamp, the portable oven, all of it. Bagon was also up, eager for another battle despite the fatigue of fighting off chump fodder all day.
“Shh!” Mark hushed Bagon’s growl, and strained his ears to listen for where the scream had come from. Very faintly he could hear voices.
“Follow me, step where I step, don’t make a sound.”
-The Dragon King-
“Oh don’t scream, we’re not gonna hurt you. Besides, we’re in the middle of nowhere, no one’s out here to hear it, anyway.”
Helena scrambled backwards, clutching the bleeding wound on her right arm.
“Get back!” She hissed. “I-I’ll curse you!”
That actually gave her two assailers pause for a moment before they glanced at each other and started to snicker.
“Look, lady, old wives tales don’t work on us.” The man said. “Our organization is at the forefront of scientific knowledge in the entire world.”
Helena cursed. Figures the one time that hurtful rumor about Ghost type specialists would actually be useful, it’s with some of the rare people who bother to read enough to know it’s not true.
“There’s no reason this needs to be violent.” Her other attacker, a woman, tried to calm her down with the most obvious good cop act she’d ever seen. “Our boss Mister Saturn just wants to meet you, and ask you to assist with some of Mister Charon’s tests. As you know, Ghost specialists are a rare breed, and Fantina tends to pull them under the Hearthome Gym’s wing. Our organization and most of the Gyms, tend not to get along very well.”
“Of course you don’t get along, you’re all insane!”
“Says the Hex Maniac wack enough to use Ghost types.” The man muttered under his breath before the female elbowed him.
“When we found out that you, like us, don’t get along with Fantina, we were excited. But then you ignored all our emails, and blocked our calls, and when we sent someone to talk in person you ran off. Just take a moment to consider things. It’s a great hiring opportunity, with great benefits, top of the line pay, and long term job security.”
“I am never working as a labrat for Team Galactic!”
The two grunts sighed and looked at each other. With their bright blue wigs, futuristic body suits made of comfortable yet unreasonably durable materials, and big neon G’s on their chests, they weren’t even trying to hide who they were! They weren’t even attempting to hide the fact they were a part of a highly controversial, legally very gray (depending on the city), and potentially outright criminal organization.
“Why can’t any of our missions go smoothly for once? What does the new boss even want from her?”
“It has something to do with that weird ruby chain thing that Charon is working on. I don’t know the details but he mentioned that Ghost Energy might be more stable than whatever they're currently using. We need her because no one with a working brain would willingly let themselves be exposed to mass Ghost TE just for some numbers. She’s already soaked in the stuff, we just need to throw her through a scanner.”
“And Fantina has been a total bitch about keeping us out of Hearthome, where she’s pulled all the Ghost Trainers. For fuck’s sake.” The guy groaned. “Golbat keep watching her, and make sure she doesn’t try anything tricky.” He ordered the Pokemon he had out. “How do we get her back to HQ?”
“Don’t worry, my Bronzor has Hypnosis. We’ll just carry her back and wipe her memories when we’re done.”
“You won’t be doing anything to my memories!” Helena hissed, and twitched her hand towards the pocket of her dress that had her Pokeballs, but yelped in pain as Golbat nipped at her.
“You can’t just say no to Hypnosis, that’s not how it works.”
In the following petty argument, where the grunts once again tried to get Helena to come with them willingly, no one noticed a small blue dragon quietly rush out of the bushes behind them.
No one noticed Bagon until he launched himself right into the male grunt’s crotch with a fully charged Headbutt. The grunt was launched vertically in the air by a foot or so, his eyes crossed, and he flopped to the ground with a breathless scream that sounded like air flowing through a broken pipe.
The Golbat screeched in surprise, but quickly recovered and launched an Air Slash at Bagon, which was met by a wave of Dragon Breath.
The female Galactic grunt instinctively reached for her Pokemon, but was completely unprepared for a pair of arms grabbing her neck from behind and dragging her into the bushes.
She struggled and thrashed, frantically clawing at the gloved arm around her neck, but Mark held firm, cutting her of oxygen, before slamming her head against a tree, and repeating those steps until she stopped struggling.
When she was neutralized, he jumped back into the clearing to see Bagon struggling against a Golbat that was clearly much stronger, but the woman Team Galactic had been harassing, was giving commands to a mummy-gold-bug-thing to act as support. (a Shedinja, he was pretty sure it’s called?)
Mark took off in a sprint towards the second grunt, who was just starting to pull himself to his feet with various pained noises. He ripped his baseball bat from its jury rigged strap on his backpack, and put his whole body into a swing that slammed into the side of the grunts stupid looking blue bowl haircut. Mark tossed his bat aside and dropped onto the man, his knee pressed firmly into the grunt’s throat.
Golbat shrieked and, with a flap of its wings, flew over to save its master, but Mark quickly ripped the unminimized pokeball off the grunt’s belt, and returned the Golbat with a flash of red light.
“Aant breth-” The Galactic grunt pawed at the soldier’s leg. “Et ufff!”
Mark strangely decided to oblige, lifting his knee, and standing up.
“Th-Thank you?” The grunt said, slightly confused, as he looked up.
The last thing he saw that day was a black military boot speeding towards his face.
-Chapter End-