-The Dragon King-
-New World Blues: Ch 2-
“Two new trainers using rare Pokemon? Hm, there was a Boy a few weeks ago that challenged me with an Eevee, but no new trainers have used a Fairy type, let alone a Dragon type against me in a long time. I’d recommend checking the Pokemon center, or the local park, if you haven't already.”
Dawn sighed, as yet another lead dried up.
“Thank you, Gardenia, I'm sorry for wasting your time.”
“Oh, you didn’t waste any time of mine! It’s exciting to see how much you’ve grown since you earned my badge.” The tomboyish Grass Gym Leader waved her concerns away with a smile, and continued rubbing Piplup’s head. “You were brilliant in our fight, and seeing how much potential you had was so exciting. Once you get more Badges under your belt feel free to come back at any time for a friendly rematch. Seeing how strong the bond is between you and your Pokemon, Roserade has been wanting to have a proper fight with your team, where she can go all out without holding back.”
“Eheh, thank you, but I’m not sure…” Dawn blushed at the praise, and fiddled with her hair. “I struggled really badly against your newbie friendly team, I don’t think I would do well against your real team.”
“Honey, you used Piplup and Picharisu, you did great considering the type disadvantages. I know your main focus is on Contests, but you’re a natural at battling.”
Dawn couldn’t help how she sat up straighter from the positive affirmation.
“I guess I am pretty cool. I’ll take you up on that offer then, I’ll come back when I’m a certified Ace Trainer and show you what a Pokemon Master in the making can do!”
…Said “Pokemon Master in the making” later had trouble convincing her starter to leave its luxurious spot on Gardenia’s soft lap, when it was time to go.
-The Dragon King-
Casey watched Ralts and Hattena roll around in the grass, with a somber expression on his face.
The two were having a play battle that was far more play than battle, and while it was cute, it only served to remind him of his situation. He was a certified Pokemon trainer, who had two amazing starters with him, but he still hadn’t been brave enough to challenge anyone to a battle, let alone leave the city.
He sank further down onto the park bench he was sitting on, and his thoughts turned to Mark.
Mark was, well honestly he had been an asshole who hadn’t even tried to get along with anyone. He was cocky, slow to take advice, and deadset that the way he saw things was the right way.
But Mark was also confident and outgoing. He had his eyes set on the singular goal of becoming Champion, and nothing else seemed all that important to him. What did someone have to do to become that confident in themselves?
“Hey! You! Boy on the bench!”
Casey looked up to see a girl with blue hair and a white beanie waving at him.
“I need to talk to you for a moment! Are those Fairy type Pokemon yours?”
-The Dragon King-
A few minutes later Casey found himself seated across the table from the girl at a trainer friendly restaurant, where there was an outdoor sandbox for small to medium sized Pokemon to play in.
Though it felt a lot less like a lunch, and more of an interrogation.
“The Eterna Forest? Really? There’s no way you just found a Hattenne so close to a major city. Someone would have seen them before. Are you sure she’s not a stray? Maybe some foreign trainer came through and either released her or lost her.”
“There’s a whole grove, really deep in the forest, filled with all kinds of Fairy Pokemon.” Casey drummed his fingers on the side of his cup of water. “A Floette led me there, after I got really lost. I couldn’t direct you there even if I wanted to.” Which he wouldn’t, just the thought of someone trying to find the grove made him feel all defensive for some reason.
Dawn’s response was to scowl and take angry bites out of her salad.
“Do you not believe me?”
“No, I do, which is why I’m angry. This is so stereotypical Fairy type, and why studying them is an absolute pain. Rowan wants data, and I don’t want to be sent to walk circles around the Eterna forest, instead of competing in Contests.”
“Uhm, can I ask a question?” Casey tentatively raised his hand. “Who are you?”
Dawn paused for a moment and had the decency to look flustered when she realized she hadn’t actually introduced herself yet.
“I’m Dawn, certified lab trainer under professor Rowan.”
“Ah, a lab trainer.” Casey scratched his neck. Yeah that would explain why she was so interested. “Wait, doesn’t that mean you got a top of the line Pokedex as part of your sponsorship?”
“Yup.” Dawn smugly pulled out her little mechanical red square. “It has a scanner, camera, TE detector, and a database full of info on every Pokemon as well as the Professor’s personal notes.”
Casey marveled at the incredibly useful and incredibly expensive device.
Dawn clicked the side of it and the machine popped open, ready to scan anything in front of it.
“The Professor heard some rumors about a pair of fresh trainers with rare starters, and sent me to go check it out. Would you mind letting me scan and do a quick check up on Ralts and Hattena? It’ll only take ten or so minutes.”
“Sure, maybe you can tell me some tips on how to take care of them. But if you’re looking for a pair of trainers with rare starters, does that mean you’re also looking for Marcus? The guy with the Bagon?”
“Yes! Do you know each other!? Could you take me to him?” Dawn clapped her hands and beamed at Casey.
If she could find both of them in one day, this might not take as long as she was worried. She could scan the Pokemon, do a checkup, take notes, tell them to go visit Professor Rowan, and then get to Veilstone just in time for the Contest there to secure her fourth Ribbon! Having to double back was really cutting it close, but she could still hit the entry window if she hurried!
“Oh he already left town yesterday, he said he was hiking to Oreburgh on foot.”
Dawn groaned and dropped her head into her hands. That Contest wasn’t going to be rehosted for several months. Damn you Rowan, damn you.
“Could I at least get a physical description of him, so it’s easier to pick him out of a crowd?”
“Are you going to go after him?” Casey perked up, this could be his chance. “I-I could go with you, I could help you find him, he and I are friends.” Maybe. “So he’d be more likely to answer all your questions if I’m there with you.”
Dawn took a moment to mull the question over. She’d been traveling solo for most of her journey. The only other time she tried to travel in a group was with Barry and between her self-proclaimed-rival wanting to battle every other day, and being physically incapable of sitting still, it hadn’t lasted more than a week.
This kid seemed less battle hungry than Barry, and even with the worst case scenario she was only going to Oreburgh.
“As long as you let me get a closer look at those Fairy Types, I don’t mind.” Dawn smiled at him and stood up from her seat. “Come on, let’s get going. If we use the cycling road, we should be able to get there in just under a day and cut him off.”
-The Dragon King-
Mark clapped off his hands as he stood up and admired his work. He didn’t have any real materials on him, so he had to improvise. The two Galactic grunts were tied up with some thick vines he’d pulled off some trees, and he’d used the sturdy laces of his own boots to secure their hands together.
A chunk of his limited savings just went towards buying these new boots and already he was having to pull them apart.
Not exactly the way you were supposed to handle Team Galactic grunts in the game, but it worked pretty well. His fighting tactics would need updating, however. If that first grunt hadn’t panicked from being choked, and reached for her belt instead of the arms around her throat, she could have released a Pokemon to help get Marcus off her.
Getting a battle trained Pokémon sicced on him was something he would like to avoid. He wasn’t exactly defenseless, and could probably hold his own better than most normal trainers considering he was one of the few dumb enough to actually punch back, but something told him going toe to toe with creatures capable of surviving Hyper Beams would be a bad matchup for him- it was just a feeling.
But what was he supposed to do with these two?
A dark something burned in his chest, and his memories shifted to past times, darker times.
There was that Ursaring den back North. An angry overprotective den mother would make short work of the two, and any police investigation would just write it off as yet another trainer death to wild Pokémon attacks.
Or the police would if there wasn’t a witness. He glanced over at the frazzled purple woman sitting a short distance away. But he could fix that pretty easily.
No! He shook his head, forcibly dispelling those thoughts.
These were civilians. Even the Galactic members were just petty criminals, grunts that stole weather readings from windmill stations, he wasn’t dealing with bloodied soldiers on the other side of a war that had taken friends and family from him.
He wasn’t going to bring his worst instincts to bear on a world that hadn’t done anything to wrong him. Yet.
(Mainly because that would almost certainly wind up with him eventually in prison or on the run from the law. But being a slightly better person, even if for the wrong reasons, was still being a better person!)
Yes, he had a witness he’d saved. He couldn’t do anything incriminating with her watching. Move on to a different train of thought.
Mark gazed to his side, where the woman he’d helped was sitting on a fallen tree log. She had wrapped her sleeve tightly around the gash on her arm, and was intensely watching the blood slowly drip to the ground.
She was wearing a long purple dress with a dark spiderweb design on its middle. Her hair was a lavender so dark it bordered on black, and the complete lack of care it received was obvious at a glance from all the tangles and knots that caused parts to stick out at odd angles.
She had a pretty face, but any attention that might have normally pulled was redirected to her eyes. Her flat, and almost lifeless, violet eyes with deep bags under them from lack of sleep.
The woman was very clearly a Hex Maniac, one of the few Ghost Specialist trainer types in the games. Her design was supposed to be creepy, and she kind of was, but honestly when you combine her messy appearance with how unhealthily pale her skin was, she reminded him more of a reclusive shut-in than any cultist. Less “blood sacrifices and rituals” and more “ramen, anime plushies, and perpetually stuck in silver tier on some random MOBA”.
“Hey, lady.” Mark called out, causing her to jump in surprise.
She looked around, to see if there was anyone else he could be talking to, and when she didn’t see anyone she pointed at herself in question.
“Yeah, you, What’s your name and what did these dimwits want with you.”
The poor woman seemed panicked now that his attention was on her, and began fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
“M-My name’s Helena, and Team Galactic has been wanting to do tests on me because I’m a… you know…” She trailed off and added under her breath, almost fearfully, “a Ghost specialist.”
“A what?”
“I’m a Ghost user. They call people like me maniacs.” She muttered, her voice was airy and reserved.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Does using Ghost types really bother people?”
She blinked at him, as if he’d asked why the sky was blue. “I use Ghosts. Spirits. Dead things that linger. There’s a lot of superstition about Ghost types, and so trainers don’t tend to like people like me.”
Mark’s eyes slid over to the Pokemon hovering beside her, the creepy bug mummy thing that sat there completely still without so much as twitching. Feeling his gaze, it pivoted its entire body to face him, staring at him from behind the thin film covering its missing eyes.
Mark shivered and thought back to the game Pokedex entries for Shedinja, about how it could steal souls if you looked into the crack in its shell. Yeah, he could get why people might keep their distance.
Helena’s fidgeting became more noticeable the longer his attention seemed to be on her, and she seemed unsure how to continue the conversation.
‘Definitely an introvert. Maybe even antisocial.’ Mark thought to himself before turning his attention back to the two Galactic grunts, much to Helena’s relief.
“What do we do with these guys? Is there a police station nearby? Do you have a phone you can call a hotline for any kind of law enforcement? Is there a, uh, PokePolice number?”
He was fine with whatever got these two off his hands just as long as it wasn’t “let them go and embrace friendship” or something, which was a possibility considering what he’d seen in the anime.
The woman looked at him blankly, her dark purple eyes blank and unreflective in the moonlight.
“…PokePolice?”
Oh sure, Pokeballs, Pokecenter, Pokemart, those all exist, but “PokePolice” is crossing some sort of line. Mark should have known better than to ever actually use his brain.
She blinked at him slowly, processing the fact he was actually asking for her opinion on the matter, and after a moment of thought she tilted her head towards the tree line.
“Well, there’s a ditch over that way, where you, uh, where you could bury them.”
…
…
…
Helena shrunk down on herself, her cheeks growing red in sheer embarrassment, as Mark stared at her in complete bewilderment. His eyes were so fierce, cold blue orbs of chipped ice, that magically seemed to gleam blood red in the light.
“I-I-I didn’t mean to say that, I’m not a murderer, i-it’s just…” She scowled and looked away. “It’s not like they’re going to get into any lasting trouble, they never do. They have a massive public headquarters in Veilstone City, with their logo on the front, they don’t even try to hide, and yet no one does anything about them! Even if you can get those two behind bars, they’ll be free within a few months, and it will be entirely legal, too.”
“How does that work? If they’re so public, why haven't they been taken down?” Mark asked, still trying to process the child friendly cartoon character suggesting cold blooded murder.
Maybe there was a good reason people were weary of Ghost Specialists.
“The Galactic Corporation is the legal front of Team Galactic. Everyone knows it, but no one is willing to do anything, because they just have too much influence. The company traces its roots back to the legendary Galaxy Expedition Team, with Cyrus himself being a direct descendant of Captain Cyllene, a national Hero. His family has a lot of friends in Sinnoh’s elite, and is a household name for every Sinnoh patriot.
“But even putting aside Cyrus himself, the company has plenty of strings it can pull. They’re the inventors and patent holders for some of Sinnoh’s most advanced technologies, and help fund the nation’s intelligentsia, such as Professor Rowan- who in turn have plenty of reasons to stay uninvolved. Galactic HQ helped salvage Veilstone City’s economy, and are one of the only things keeping that area afloat other than the gambling rings that have sprung up. They’re responsible for the massive solar panels that supply Sunyshore its entire energy supply. Supposedly they did it for barely any money as a charity, but last time Volkner made a remark about Cyrus, a ‘maintenance problem’ knocked the entire City’s power grid offline for over a month.”
That… Hm. That actually made a lot of sense. It explained why Galactic had such a massive tacky HQ when Magma/Aqua had been literally hiding under a rock, and it also finally provided a reason for the fucking power outage that kept you out of Sunnyshore until after you took down Cyrus.
Mark scratched his chin, mentally going over all the things that seemed odd in the games, and wondered how much of the game’s “railroading” could be attributed to Team Galactic meddling. Were they responsible for those stupid Psyducks somehow? How? What was the play behind those? How did it tie together with everything?
Helena shuffled in her seat, growing more and more antsy the longer Marcus glared at her.
“Does it not bother you that I’m a Ghost trainer?” She suddenly blurted out. “I thought you would be more superstitious.”
Her question snapped Mark out of his thoughts.
“Well, I was raised as a Christian, but my family was pretty lax about it, and I never got baptized. So I guess I’m kinda religious, but I don’t believe in voodoo garbage like crystals, puppets, and star signs, if that's what you’re asking.”
“Ah.” Helena nodded, but that was all she said, too nervous to ask what a “Kristan” was.
“Why do you ask? And what makes you think I’d be superstitious?”
“You smell like stale Ghost energy.” Helena answered, and it was the clearest any of her words had been all night.
Well. That’s not ominous at all.
-The Dragon King-
Mark borrowed Helena’s phone to call the police, (normal police, not the Pokepolice) and they were told to stay where they were until an officer arrived.
The moon crept its way across the sky and Helena retreated under the cover of a tree, where she sat with her Shedinja in her lap, stroking its dead head while she hummed a tune to it that made Mark’s skin crawl.
She didn’t sleep, which pushed all of the wrong buttons on Mark’s paranoia and kept him from sleeping. Instead he stayed up doing various exercises from pushups and situps, to jogging around in circles.
It wasn’t until the sun had truly started to climb its way well into the sky, that a blue haired officer Jenny rode into the clearing on the back of her motorcycle. She collected the Grunts, took one look at Helena, and decided to have Mark explain what had happened instead.
But Helena was fine with that, she was more than happy to avoid a conversation. Besides, she’d been working on something else for awhile now, and talking to the officer would mess up the perfect resonance she’d been working on for the past several hours.
Feeling her Pokemon resonate with her, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes, the ones her Pokemon had taught her to use.
The world was the same as it had been moments ago, yet it was so so different, now that she was looking.
Beedy white eyes watched from the shadows, and distant hollow laugher could be heard overlapping with muffled sobbing, both repeating as if on loop.
Powerful memories and emotions lingered, the final moments of both Humans and Pokemon in these woods slowly collecting over centuries. Those that she could see were the ones strong enough to linger, but not potent enough to interact with the physical world and condense into a new form, such as a Ghastly, a Misdreavus, or a Duskull.
But she wasn’t here to linger with the forgotten echoes of long dead things, she wanted to get a better look at Marcus.
In this forest, where the sleeping dead watched the flourishing life enviously, there was an intruder.
A sinister monument stood tall, an intangible stake driven deep into the earth, its surface etched with runes of dread and decay. Around this ominous structure, a suffocating miasma hung heavy in the air, thick with the stench of death and despair. It coiled like a serpent, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare any who dare to approach, filling their lungs with the foul essence of corruption. It was a clear warning to anything strong enough to sense it, to stay away and not to interfere.
Something powerful had marked its claim on Marcus, and she hadn’t the slightest idea what it could be.
Had he been cursed by a Spiritomb? Perhaps a particularly powerful Gengar? Or a Dusknoir? There was another type of TE there, one that she wasn’t familiar with, so it must have been a dual type.
Helena shivered as a chill crept up her spine, and a creepy smile crawled its way into her face.
Whatever it was, it meant Marcus was no good news, and she really should just avoid him.
…
But she was just so curious…
-The Dragon King-
Mark slid down the steep hill that marked the last stretch of his trip, and stumbled into Oreburgh alone, without any tagalongs. He was a solo act, just like in the games! No wannabe Fairy rivals, or any weird Ghost trainers he found in the woods, or any grunts with stupid cyan hair, and he made it in just over 30 something hours since he left Eterna City.
That’s the wondrous magic that just not sleeping could do to travel time. Bagon was sleeping soundly in his Pokeball, though, the little bastard had been stubbornly pushing himself to keep up with Mark, but obviously didn’t have the endurance to do so just yet. He’d get there one day, Mark knew it.
Regardless, he was finally here. Oreburgh. City of dirt, rocks, coal, and other various things that came out of the ground. It was also the city of his first Gym Badge.
A slight problem was that he was poor. He had less than 20 pokedollaridoos to his name, and considering a basic bitch Pokeball was a 100 bucks… yeah, he was kinda stuck at the moment.
Gyms were not made of cash, and from what he had gathered the Sinnoh Pokemon League was somewhat conservative and liked to be stingy about some things when it came to money. So to help cover the reward money, as well as to keep people with no actual right or reason from filling up Gym Leader schedules, there was an entrance fee for the Gyms.
Mark didn’t have a sponsor to pay the entry fee for him, like Ash and the game protags did, and he didn’t have money to pay for it himself, but he did have ideas.
And his ideas were always great, even if no one other than him ever seemed to like them.
-The Dragon King-
Roark hummed to himself as he made his way through the Oreburgh Mine. The sounds of pickaxes and heavy equipment, the smell of coal and earth, it was all a soothing balm on his soul. The mine was an escape from the Gym, his father, and all his responsibilities. Down here things were simple, you could fix any problem with your own hands, and you never had to worry about politics.
He rolled his arms, popping his shoulders, and began jogging towards the back of the mine. The first few levels had long been stripped of anything useful, and were open for trainers to come and wander through looking for Pokemon. If he wanted to get his hands dirty today, he needed to head on deeper.
But as he turned the corner he bumped shoulder to shoulder with a man holding a tourist brochure that they handed out at the entrance of the mine, causing both of them to stumble.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” The man snapped. He was tall, about six or so feet, with blond hair and icy blue eyes. He also wore a beat up green combat jacket, which looked like it had been practically put together from scratch multiple times, and a pair of black combat boots.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Roark apologized. “I haven't seen you around before? Are you from out of town?”
“I’m just seeing the sights, you know. I’m on something of a tour of the region. I started at Eterna- beautiful city by the way, very rich history- then I came over here. It’s uh…” Mark trailed off and motioned his hand just below his face, as if he was trying to will the word he was looking for into existence. “Interesting. Yeah, it’s interesting here. Definitely a downgrade from Eterna, but I figured I should get it out of the way at the beginning of the list, you know, so I can work up to the more impressive cities.”
Roark’s eyebrow twitched. Fucking tourists.
“Oreburgh may not be as visually appealing on the surface as some of the other cities, but I assure you, there are plenty of great things to see and do here.”
“Really?” Mark asked, doubt soaking the word. “Do you have any suggestions? Important places I could swing by and look at? Any important buildings?”
“Of course! Orebugh has the highest number of entrances to the great Sinnoh underground cave network, than anywhere else in the region. The fossil museum is open from 8AM to 7PM on every day except Saturdays. The Gym regularly hosts-”
“Oh yeah, there is a Gym here!” Mark exclaimed and lightly slapped the side of his head. “It’s not one of the important ones, so I had completely forgotten. Say, it was funded by the great Steel Gym Leader, Byron, from Canalave City, right? Man, now that’s a Gym Leader! I’m a huge fan of his! Kinda sucks that his son hasn’t been able to fulfill that legacy. Forget holding your own against the Elite four, I hear the kid is getting picked on by newbie trainers.”
Mark trailed off and snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember something. “Crap, I can’t even remember the guy’s name. What was it again, I think it started with an R… Randy? Rowk? Oh, no wait, I got it! It’s Roarb! Yeah, Roarb!”
“Roark. His name is Roark.” The Gym Leader corrected him through gritted teeth. Then he forced himself to take a deep breath and turn away. He didn’t need a press scandal about him getting into a shouting match with some random tourist.
Mark crossed one arm and scratched his chin with his free hand. “You know you kinda have the same hair as Byron. You’re clearly not old enough or muscular enough to pass as that guy, but you might be able to pass as his loser kid- not sure why you’d want to though. The guy’s not very popular, so there’s probably not any look alike contests for him, but I can understand why. Weaker than all the Gym leaders, weaker than the average Ranger, let alone Ace trainers, the guy was clearly a nepotism hire.”
That stopped Roark dead in his tracks, and had him pivoting right back around to face Mark.
“You sure have some fucking nerve. You come marching into Oreburgh, insult the city, and start talking smack about its Gym Leader, who do you think you are?”
“I think I’m better than the guy who got the job without working for it, because his Dad penned him in. Why? You his one and only fan?”
“I am him, asshole!”
“Really?” Marcus raised an unimpressed eyebrow and sized Roark up. “You’re pretty scrawny for a guy who supposedly gets all rough and tumble in the mines. Is that a PR thing? Something to try and salvage your ego after falling short of your dad?”
“Scrawny!? Challenge me at the Gym and I’ll show you scrawny!”
“Bah, if I wanted to fight you, all I’d have to do is swing up north, catch a wild Machop, and steamroll your entire team. I don’t even have any badges, I’m not even in the Gym circuit, and I could stop you like a bug.”
“Prove it then, hotshot! Come to the Gym so I can wipe that smug look off your fucking face!”
“And pay for the privilege of beating you? No thanks. Real Gym Leaders handle defeat with grace, you’d probably get fussy and refuse to give me my winning money- even though it’s basically just free cash, with how weak you are. Actually, I bet that’s the only reason you’re not bankrupt, is by just not paying the winners.”
“So this is about the entrance fee, huh? Piss poor trainer can’t pay?”
“Pssh, as if.” Mark scoffed and took a step forward, leaning down to get eye level with the Gym Leader. “I’ll tell you what, Roarb, unlike the small-time wannabe Gym Leaders who mooch off Daddy, I don’t deal in chump change.” He lied like he was mother fucking Charles Ponzi himself, as smooth as Kenneth Lay selling Enron stocks to investors.
“If you can beat me, not only will I drop double your entry fee, you’ll prove me wrong and I’ll apologize for everything I said. But when I win, I want double the prize money. Or can you not afford that?”
“Oh I can afford it, because you’ll be the one paying me, asshole. You’re dead!”
Mark’s grin was as smug as the cat that had finally caught the canary.
“Three days from now, Friday at high noon, clear your fucking schedule.” Mark jabbed Roark in the chest, pushing him back slightly, and for a moment his eyes gleamed red. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with your face.”
Hook line and sinker. Why did no one other than him ever seem to like his ideas?
-Chapter End-