-The Dragon King-
-New World Blues: Ch 3-
In the nothingness of nothingness, there was something.
This nothingness wasn’t like the abyss of the distortion world, which acted like a hostile antithesis that warped everything it touched, no, this nothingness was almost as if everything had just… stopped.
Hidden in a gap in time, between the split of a second, the Temporal Tower sat atop mountains worth of floating rocky rubble, slowly floating through a void of endlessly repeating clouds.
The tower was made of deep blue sapphire and ancient gray stone, covered in silver arches. It was not built on normal engineering logic, and if time were to somehow reclaim its hold on the building, it would shudder and tear itself apart as it fell into oblivion- but that wasn’t exactly a concern to its owner.
And far up at the very top of the tower, alone, isolated from the rest of reality, with only the slow ticking of an unseeable clock, Time itself sat upon a throne of its own making.
The air rippled as a presence forced itself into the pocket dimension, a presence that Time loathed with a passion.
“Sister.” The presence spoke, not even bothering to consolidate into a physical form. “We need to talk.”
“Dearest sibling of mine, unless the world is ending- which it’s not- there is no need for me to do anything. Especially anything in the same general vicinity as you.”
“Father’s rest has been disturbed, something has happened that goes against His order. Even though he has just settled into slumber, he will wake if nothing is done.” Palkia spoke softly.
“So what? Just let his precious little golden boy fix it.” Dialga scoffed. “The chosen one. The boy Father ripped from the wheel of fate and strung up like a puppet, to be trapezed around the globe to take care of anything Father thinks is a problem.”
“Don’t be mean to Ash! He’s a kind boy, with a good heart, there’s no reason for you to hate him.”
“I don’t hate him, I dislike him, there’s a very clear difference.” Reality around the tower rippled in the equivalent of a god’s exaggerated eye roll. “Father ripped him from my domain. His existence pushes the Time Gears out of sync, which I have to continuously fix. He annoys me. And just to add insult, he’s so caught up in his own little world of delusions and adventure that he hasn’t even realized he stopped aging the day he turned ten! I for one won’t be heartbroken when Father runs out of uses for him.”
“That sounds like you hate him to me.”
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“Why must you always be so difficult?”
“Why must you be so annoying? You barge in here and try to order me around like Father- does no one remember what knocking is? I get that realms don’t exactly have doors, but you control space, surely you could make something work.”
“Are you going to help, or are you going to continue to lounge around like a fat cat on your tower?”
“Personally, I like to think of myself more along the lines of a king atop a castle.”
“You’re not answering the question.”
“And you’re being a goodie two shoes. Father isn’t even awake to give orders, and you’re rushing ahead like a tamed dog, trying to anticipate his next command. Just leave me alone!”
“Your pride reminds me far too much of our brother at times!” Palkia scoffed, anger and disappointment covering up the hurt she felt from her Sister’s words. “I am busy patching up the strange blue wormholes that are being punched into our reality from Ultraspace. If the matter on the Human planet has not been at least identified by the time I’m finished, I’ll take it into my own hands.”
Space ripped herself out of Time’s dimension with a dramatic equivalent of slamming a door, that caused reality to ripple.
Dialga scoffed and continued to lounge atop Temporal Tower. If even she did go figure out what was wrong, there wasn’t exactly any hurry. She literally had all the time in the world, after all.
And whatever this “disturbance” to order was, it couldn’t be that important or else they would have noticed it growing beforehand.
-The Dragon King-
Mark sneezed, causing Bagon to protectively shield his bowl of crappy free breakfast across the table. This was the first time he’d sneezed since coming to this world, his usual allergies seemed absent here.
Didn’t the Japanese have a cultural superstition about sneezing? That people were talking about you somewhere? If Pokémon was a Japanese product, did that mean…
Nah, no way.
Honestly, with Ghost types and Bullshit that was Pokemon canon thank’s to Ash’s travels, there was more of a chance that the medieval European reasoning was true: that his body was expelling demons and ghosts that were trying to possess him- hence the response of “God bless you” after covering some poor dude’s face in snot.
And now he’d gone and lost his train of thought. What was he doing again?
Or right. Reading the news to see if it was as useless and sensationalized as the ones back home.
[SCANDAL! THE EROSION OF SACRED INSTITUTIONS: Unovan Court Makes First Step To Legalize Pokephilia!
In a move that defies centuries of esteemed tradition and threatens the moral integrity of a once great nation, Sinnoh’s top trade partner, Unova, has concluded a multiple year long legal battle that has undercut the very stability of the region!
Retired Pokemon trainer Melvin Logger has been found innocent of charges of Pokemon abuse, and was given the approval to fight in court for the right to marry his Gardevoir, after the court ruled that her telepathic ability to convey emotions of eagerness did count as “clear verbal consent”- even though it was clearly neither verbal, clear consent, or even in a recognized language.
This scandalous decision undermines the sanctity of marriage, a revered institution that has been the cornerstone of our society. Our noble heritage and time-honored values are at risk, as this legislation paves the way for the erosion of the moral fabric that binds us. It reveals what Unovan’s really are! A culture of perverts, degenerates, and barbarians!
While this may be happening in a region far away from you and I, there is no doubt that will embolden the degenerates who masquerade as “progressives”, Sinnoh could be next if we’re not careful!
Sinnoh’s very own Gym Leader Wake has spoken out in concern about the subject, and the highly disturbing “copypasta” about Vaporeon that has been mass circulating Unovan internet forums just days after the ruling.
It is a dark day for the civilized world, and all who cherish the dignified legacy of modern values.]
Mark sipped his coffee and flipped the page.
[HOENN’S BACKSTAB AND UNOVA'S NOBLE STAND: A Testament to Cultural Honor!
Hoenn promises trade sanctions on Sinnoh, if the region continues to refuse the deportation of Aqua and Magma members to Hoenn for trial. Cynthia and the Sinnoh league refuse to budge on the issue, saying that any criminals on Sinnoh soil will be tried in Sinnoh court, and that no foreign region will be allowed to threaten Sinnoh into doing anything.
In a remarkable display of solidarity and cultural honor, Unova (Sinnoh’s top trade partner, and long time ally) has declared its unwavering support for the Sinnoh amidst these baseless threats of trade sanctions. This noble gesture from our longtime friends speaks volumes about the enduring moral fabric that unites our two great nations. Despite our historical differences, Unova's commitment to stand by Sinnoh in this hour of need is a testament to the shared values and mutual respect.
Unovans are one of the largest minority groups in Sinnoh, and vice versa in Unova, with Cynthia herself even having a second home in the region that she uses as a vacation getaway spot. Indeed-
Mark lost interest and skimmed the rest of the long winded rant about how the two regions were basically brothers, or something, and needed to make a united stand against the backwards regions of the south. You know, despite the fact the same writer had just blasted Unova on literally the page in front of this one.
Man, It doesn’t matter what world you’re in, mainstream news companies are just something else.
Idly he flipped through the rest of the paper, looking for anything of note, but besides a recount of the most impressive Gym battles in Sinnoh over the last week, there wasn’t much.
“Says here some rich tourist lost a rare Pokémon nearby Oreburgh. He apparently bought into the hippie crap over in Unova about how Pokeballs are oppressive, and released his trophy team thinking they wouldn’t run away at the first chance. Idiot. I’d run off if someone tried to use me as a collection art piece, as well.”
…
Sitting in the Pokecenter lobby, eating the shitty free food they offered to trainers. Was this becoming a staple of his life?
“Alright, little buddy, prepare to have your mind blown. Check it out, this is my patented ‘destroy a Gym Leader in three days’ workout routine.”
Mark put away the newspaper to toss his handy dandy notebook on the table, and Bagon eagerly leaned over his tray of microwaved mystery meatloaf to get a look.
There were a lot of boot camp exercises that had been poorly converted to work for Bagon’ tiny arms, such as a wrongly proportioned pencil sketch of Bagon doing push-ups with a wooden plank slid under his top half to bring the ground further up.
Various words had been written in bold and underlined with ferocity, such as “Power!” “Endurance!” “Rage!” And “Leg Day!”
“Baaaa.” Bagon gasped in awe at the art
He couldn’t understand any of the words, but he really liked the picture of a massive bodybuilder Mark had cut out from the newspaper, drawn Bagon’s head over, and surrounded in fire.
“We don’t have the money to afford a second Pokeball, let alone a Brick Break TM for you, so we’ll have to train to take down the Gym the old fashioned way. You ready to get to work?”
“Bag!”
-The Dragon King-
Mark had until Friday to turn his team (IE: just Bagon) into something capable of taking down a Gym, and he couldn’t cut any corners, because Roark was out for blood. He hadn’t meant to come on that strong, and piss the Gym Leader off that badly, but it worked! That’s all that matters.
“BAAA!”
The large rock Mark had set up as a training target cracked as Bagon slammed into it with a mean Headbutt. But while Bagon bounced back a foot or so, he didn’t seem dazed or injured thanks to the shell-like thing on his head.
“Nice hit! You closed the distance, and knocked Geodude off balance, now finish him off with a Dragon Fang!”
Bagon reared back with a shout and bit down with an abomination of a “move” that was just a Bite and then a point blank Dragon’s Breath.
“No, combine them! Use Dragon power on Bite! We want the same type damage boost.”
Dragon Claw would probably be better, but their attempts at it only highlighted just how tiny and stubby Bagon’s arms were. He’d have better luck teaching Trex boxing.
“Bag Bagon!” The Dragon barked like a pissed off dog.
“It’s completely possible, I know it is!”
“Bag!?”
“Because I remember using it!”
Wait, did he remember using it? Or was he thinking of something else?
Was Dragon Fang even a real move, or was it an item, and he was mixing it up with Fire Fang? Now that he was thinking about it, it may have just been an item with that name.
Shit, he really needed to buy a phone or something capable of looking stuff up online, because relying on decade old trivia was not working well. Back in Eterna city he’d been taking advantage of public library computers, but libraries were something of an endangered species out in the wilderness.
“Whatever, we’ll come back to this later.” If it turned out to be a real move. “We’ve got all day to focus on nothing but pure gains! Back to physical training!”
Mark pumped his arm and shouted a loud “Boorah!”
“Bag-on!”
-The Dragon King-
“Up! Down! Up! Down! Up! Down! Show me that those muscles work!”
“Baaag!” Came the angry response.
“Come on, we've got three more sets, then we do another lap around the track. I don’t know how you’re so fast with those tiny chicken legs, but I’m not losing to you this time.”
-The Dragon King-
“This is my hand made, premium quality, ‘Get Good’, obstacle course. Take a long look at it, because this is going to be your life for the next several hours.”
“Bagon.”
“Don’t give me snark, asshat. We don’t have cash to afford actual materials. Trashed traffic cones, fallen tree logs, and big rocks are the best materials I had on hand. That’ll change if we can beat the gym. Now run the course and hit the targets while I throw rocks at you- remember if you miss a target or get so much as grazed you start over. The Gym Pokeom will throw rocks at you, so you gotta learn to doge, there’s a purpose to all this. Time starts now!”
Whack
“Ha! Lesson number one! Your opponent won’t ever give you a warning before they atta- OW! SHIT! LET GO! I'M SORRY!”
-The Dragon King-
“Geodude, use Rock Throw!”
“Dodge it Shinx!”
From the stands, Marcus watched with narrowed eyes as the poor electric cat lept out of the way of the intentionally slow projectile, only to get cut up by the Stealth Rocks that had been littered all around the field.
Meanwhile Geodude sat behind one of the many boulders on the rocky arena, using Harden to bolster its defense, and peeking out every few seconds to refresh the pseudo-minefield with another Stealth Rock, or to throw another projectile to force Shinx to keep moving around in said minefield.
It was as effective as it was brutal.
Mark approved.
Not even a full minute later Shinx fell over, defeated, unable to land even a single major hit. The challenger was forced to send in his only other Pokémon, a Starly that had been pulled from the fight earlier, which looked to be on its last legs.
“I believe in you Starly, we can still do this! Quick Attack!”
Within 4 minutes the match was over, and Mark left the Gym with a treasure trove of info on his opponent.
It was somewhat odd how closely Roark’s fighting style mirrored the living rocks he commanded.
Defensive. Slow. Hard hitting. Exploitable.
-The Dragon King-
Time passed, and it was late on Thursday afternoon when two light red bikes were collapsed and dropped into Silph Co storage backpacks for safekeeping, where they disappeared in a flash similar to the light from a Pokeball.
“It’s amazing how much the Cycling Road speeds up the trip from Eterna to Oreburgh. The map said it’d take almost a week by foot, and we managed it in just two days.”
“Think of how much faster it would have sped it up, if they actually bothered to finish it. There’s no way I’m making it to Veilstone in time for the Contest.” Dawn sulked. “Also you’re never allowed to set the pace again! I thought letting you do it would keep me from dragging you around, but you just don’t know when to stop! You’re just as bad as Barry, breaks are important!”
“S-Sorry!” Casey sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. Truth be told he had been trying to push himself so that Dawn didn’t feel like she was being held back by the sick kid.
All his life he had hardly ever been able to do so much as a light jog without immediately getting winded, but on the Cycling trail he had felt completely fine no matter how fast he went.
‘To be a great trainer capable of rivaling the champion, and to be forever healthy’, that was the deal he’d made with the lady in the deep woods. Did that include not getting tired as easily? If it did then he really had no regrets about it, no matter how odd his payment had been.
Dawn and Casey slowly began making their way down the cliff towards Oreburgh, when a recognizable bob of bluish green hair came driving down the narrow mountain road on a police motorcycle.
“Officer Jenny!” Dawn called out with a wave. “What are you doing out here?”
Jenny slowed down to a stop in front of them and, after a hard look over where she couldn’t spot any obnoxious bowlcuts or gaudy space suits, she let out a weary sigh and waved back.
“Hello Dawn, it’s been awhile since you last came here, your fight with Roark was impressive. What brings you back?”
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“I’m looking for a new trainer that the professor is interested in. What about you? Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere instead of in town?”
“There has been an uptick in criminal activity nearby, so I’m going to be patrolling the outskirts of town for the next few days to make sure nothing else happens.”
Casey perked up, and took his chance to butt in. “Hey, if you’re going to be looping around town, would you mind keeping an eye out for a friend of mine? He’s hard to miss, he’s tall, blond, and has a Bagon as his starter.”
“Tall, blond, with a Bagon?” Jenny tilted her head in thought for a moment. “Do you mean Mister Cross?”
“You know Marcus?”
“Not personally, but he was a witness on the scene of a crime a few days ago, and has been tearing up the area east of town the last two days for his training routine.”
“Wait, he’s been here for two days already!?” Dawn turned to Casey. “I thought you said he was going on foot! That was why we delayed for a while!”
“He did go on foot, he doesn’t have a bike.”
Dawn rolled her eyes in obvious disbelief, grabbed Casey by the wrist, and started marching towards the east fringes of Oreburgh.
“Stay safe!” Jenny waved after them. “And stay away from any strangers with weird cyan haircuts!”
-The Dragon King-
Dawn and Casey turned away from the city and headed East, to the fringes where Jenny said Mark apparently was- how he’d managed to beat them here while on foot was anyone’s guess.
The small signs of civilization that had been popping up quickly all disappeared again, with everything but the old dirt road swallowed up by orangish rocks and the sort of hardy plants that could survive in such rugged terrain at the bottom of Mt Corinett.
The makeshift training field they found was a mess, with rocks broken, trees toppled over, old beaten up traffic cones scattered all over, and most of the grass scorched from dragon fire. Mark and Bagon raced in circles around a crudely defined track, with ropes tied around their waists that dragged car tires behind them.
Despite the fact he was competing with a Pokemon, Mark seemed to be holding his own, and was even pulling ahead on the final stretch, before Bagon bit into Mark’s rope, and toppled him over with a heavy tug.
“Bwah! You fucker, that was a dirty trick!” Marcus scowled and spat out a wad of dirt. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s the right kind of thinking, but I’m so gonna get you back for that.”
Dawn gulped as she watched the man push himself up from the ground and rise to his full height.
He was tall, much taller than her, which wasn’t surprising considering she was barely five foot, but it made his other features all the more imposing. He was lean and muscular, his arms were completely shown off by the sleeveless white top he was wearing, and they were covered in countless scars. Some were small, cuts that didn’t heal evenly and stitches that left a mark. Others were larger, like a particularly nasty burn discoloration on his left hand, and- oh Arceus, was that scar from a bullet hole on his shoulder?!
He rolled his shoulders with a pop, scratched the dark stubble growing on his chin, and swung his gaze over towards them with a pair of piercing red eyes.
Then he blinked and his eyes were suddenly blue, which left Dawn wondering if her mind had been playing tricks on her.
“Hello Mark!” Casey waved cheerfully.
“Hi.” Mark responded much less so. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m helping with a mission from the regional professor.” Casey lightly bragged and puffed up his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Training. What else does it look like?”
“That’s not- Why are you also dragging around tires?”
“Because it’s a team dumbass. And on team Winners I only have one rule: Everyone fights, no one quits. We all have to pull our weight.” Mark flexed an arm, showing off a partially nasty scar. “That includes the commander.”
“Bagon!” His partner barked in agrement.
No troop worth their salt would ever truly trust a superior officer who wasn’t willing to see combat themselves, and while Mark couldn’t legally join in the Gym fight (that he knew of) he was going to prove to Bagon, and anyone who came next, that he was willing to get his hands dirty and bleed with them.
“W~Wow…” Dawn gulped, uncharacteristically flustered. “That’s really cool. A-And must be a really good way to bond with your pokemon. You’re a really experienced trainer, sir.”
Mark turned to look at the younger girl, and immediately a bunch of conflicting emotions smashed into him like a wave wiping out an unsuspecting fisherman. It was so discombobulating that he had to take a moment to break everything apart and process through it one at a time.
Dawn. It was Dawn. The character. The core member of the Sinnoh cast. One of Ash’s golden trio, and the protagonist to her own game. From the blue Hair, to the purse-bag-thing, to the beanie. Dawn.
Dawn, uh, Something. Dawn Pokemon? Dawn ‘Mon? No. That was just stupid.
Whatever, back on topic! Here was CANON, the PLOT, and it was staring him in the fucking face! To call Mark “caught off guard” would be a bit of an understatement, he was completely reeling.
Canon meant team Galactic, and legendaries, and massive fights against near impossible odds.
Did he even want to be involved in the plot? His knee jerk reaction was to say obviously Hell yes, and reap all the rewards of future knowledge (like snagging the Lake Legendaries for free from the Galactic HQ while they were being kept sedated, or stealing the Master Ball from Cyrus for himself). But there was only so much he could take advantage of before the butterfly effect made that future knowledge mostly useless. Plus right now he only had one Pokémon, and didn’t even have a single badge yet.
Drop him in the sights of the main story’s plot before he could prepare, and he’d be a sitting duck.
So logically if he wanted to stay out of the main story, at least until he was ready, he should try to push her away and avoid her. Because his odds of getting swept into something Galactic related dropped exponentially the further away he was from her.
But onto the less practical, and more personal reasons for internal panic.
He couldn’t lie to himself. There had been some very tasteful art of her character (aged up and with much larger breasts) that he’d… studied over the years. Some of that art had been very raunchy, and it was very awkward to see the same face on a flesh and blood person, especially one he had to physically look down at.
Dawn smiled cutely and waved at him bashfully.
Nope. Fuck this. As far as he was aware, he was the last surviving citizen of America, he wasn’t some dipstick numbnuts isekai protagonist, he was going to have some fucking standards.
Mark sneered down at Dawn with an upturned lip. “Wipe that blush off your face, until you turn 18 you’re the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
“What!?” Dawn gawked.
“You heard me. Fuck off.”
With any rose tinted glasses brutishly crushed alongside her childish crush, firmly ripping it out by the roots before it could develop into anything at all, Dawn quickly reverted back into her normal personality.
Obviously she never talked in the games, but in the anime her character had been at least 70% solidified sass, and that seemed to line up pretty well with her real counterpart.
“Well excuse me, I don’t remember asking for the opinion of the ugliest man in the world.” Dawn crossed her arms with a huff and threw her hair back. “And for your information, you’re not even my type.”
“Whatever you say, kid.”
“I’m not a kid! I’m 15! And since I have a high enough qualified Trainers License, I’m legally an adult!”
15? Not 10? Interesting.
“Yeah, no. You can’t just say you're an adult because some bureaucrat marked a checkbox. No one’s an adult until they’re 18, it’s how biology works, or something.”
“Sorry but the law’s on my side. If you have a problem with it, why don’t you try taking it up with the Sinnoh League? I’m sure they’d really value the opinion of someone without any Badges.”
“They’d value the opinion of my fucking fist.”
Dawn raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Casey was right, you are an ass.”
“I didn’t say that!” Casey shouted in his own defense. “She’s extrapolating!”
“And I never said I wasn’t one.” Mark shrugged. “It’s part of my charming personality.”
Dawn opened her mouth to say something, obviously a snarky retort, but stopped herself and let out a frustrated sigh. Then, in a remarkable display of maturity, she held out her hand.
“I'm sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dawn Berlitz, a lab trainer licensed by professor Rowan. What’s your name?”
“Marcus Cross, rookie trainer with nothing notable to my name just yet.” Well, nothing that anyone here would know about anyway.
Mark shook Dawn’s hand with a firm grip but without squeezing painfully, just like his father had taught him to as a kid.
“What brings you to the outskirts of Oreburgh today?”
“Casey wasn’t lying, we’re here looking for you. Professor Rowan heard about two new trainers with rare starters, and wanted me to give their Pokémon a look over.”
Mark glanced over at the strawberry blond who was standing nervously behind Dawn, fidgeting in his feet.
“I’m guessing the other guy on your list was Casey, who rolled over and let you do whatever you wanted?”
“Yup! So can I get a quick look at Bagon? It’ll only be ten or so minutes and then I’ll be out of your hair!”
“Uh, no?”
“Great, then let’s-“ Dawn blinked as she processed that. “What!? Why not?”
“Look, it's nothing personal. If a complete stranger came up to me and asked to poke at me with medical tools, I absolutely wouldn’t let them, and I’m not gonna let you do the same thing to Bagon.”
“But I’m not some nobody, I’m a licensed lab trainer! I got my Pokédex from professor Rowan, look!”
Dawn pulled out her Pokédex and flipped it open to show a digital version of her trainer ID.
Mark squinted as the bright screen was shoved into his face close enough that he couldn’t even make out any of the words on it.
So this Dawn had gotten her Pokédex from the professor, huh. That meant she was the Dawn that was the game protagonist, rather than the anime, right? The one that single handedly steamrolls team Galactic, smacks Cynthia, and catches the deity of time/space before getting chucked into ancient Sinnoh by Arceus?
And he just went out of his way to piss her off, didn’t he? That was actually kind of funny. Well, if he was going to have a rival, might as well aim high.
Actually, if this world was closer to the games than the anime, which version was he in? Diamond or Pearl?
He was pretty sure Bagon was a Pearl exclusive, same with Ralts, or was Ralts introduced with the expanded Pokedex in Platinum?
Mark’s brain sputtered for a moment.
Oh yeah, wait, Platinum existed! That was the “definitive” Sinnoh game that added a ton of lore, and plot, and boosted Cyrus’s word count by something insane like over a triple, and fixed most of the problems in the first two games.
He was probably in Platinum, which meant that instead of fighting Dialga or Palkia atop Spear Pillar, Dawn would-
Falling through an endless abyss, so cold it burned. Gravity pulled from every direction threatening to tear him apart. There was nothing NOTHING NOTHING in any direction. Enormous eyes stared down at him, glowing a cruel blood redredredredRedredREdEdreDRdrdRED-
“Hellooo? Are you alive? You’ve been spaced out for over a minute straight.”
“I-” Mark shook his head to clear it of the fog that suddenly seemed to be clinging to his senses. “Sorry, I was busy being blinded by how high you have the brightness set on that thing. You’re somehow even worse than my mom was with her phone’s brightness, I thought I was being pulled into the beyond for a moment.”
He scowled as he batted away Dawn’s Pokedex, suddenly in a much worse mood, and massaged his aching forehead.
“Jeeze, you gave me a headache so bad I can’t even remember what I was thinking about a few seconds ago. Still, the answer’s no.”
“Please, it won’t take more than ten minutes, and if I don’t do it the Professor will be grumpy with me!”
Mark looked down at Bagon, who shook his head, then back at Dawn who made a pleading face.
“I’ll let you do it for money.”
“Bag!?” His partner cried out in betrayal.
“Money or, better yet, give me some Pokeballs.”
“No way! If anything, you should be paying me for doing a lab checkup!”
“Usually, sure, but this isn’t the usual situation. You hold the service, but I hold what you want, hence I have the leverage.”
Bagon expressed his dislike of the idea by biting Mark’s hand, his teeth punching through the thick leather gloves.
-The Dragon King-
Helena watched the group from a secluded spot behind a tree at the edge of the park, under the nice cool shade that kept her out of the hot sun.
In the distance she watched Mark talk with the two newcomers. He looked somewhat annoyed, going by the wide gestures he occasionally made with his arms. Same with the girl from the way she kept crossing her arms and stomping her feet. But they seemed to be putting up with one another.
Once the blue haired girl started doing something to Bagon with a tape measure and a Pokédex, her hopes they would leave soon withered away.
Helena groaned and slumped her head against the tree.
“How long are they going to stay? I just wanted to ask Marcus a few things…”
A low hum of a motorcycle caught her ear, and she looked over towards the old dirt road to see Officer Jenny come back from patrol, giving Helena a stink eye as she passed.
What was her problem? Helena hadn’t even done anything, but Jenny seemed to get more peeved with her everytime they crossed paths.
Did she think she was going to do something to Mark, just because she’d been following him? It wasn’t for anything nefarious, or anything! She’d been following him around to try to figure out what kind of Ghost type had left that mark on him, but no matter how much she watched him from a distance she couldn’t figure anything out.
Wait, no, that sounded creepy. She wasn’t following him around in a weird way, or stalking him, or spying on him like some kind of creep.
It was a good “following someone” for a positive end goal, even if Marcus didn’t know she had been watching him- and that was only because she got nervous anytime she would try to go and talk to him face to face.
Oh Arceus, she’d technically been watching him work out the last two days, hasn't she?
Helena made a strangled noise and lightly bashed her forehead against the tree bark in embarrassment.
Shedinja floated down on the top of her head and sank into her hair, easily finding a snug perch in the countless knots and rat nests in her long unkept hair.
Not only was she a grown woman who was being scared off by a couple of kids, officer Jenny now thought she was a stalker and a creep. And knowing her luck, that sort of gossip about her would spread across the Jenny family.
“Someone kill me.”
-The Dragon King-
“You do know the dangers of specializing in Dragon types, right?” Dawn asked as she used a pen to scrape at Bagon’s head-shell, and test if it had any flaking.
“I’ve had to have heard it a dozen times by now.” Mark waved her off. Of course, the fact he’d heard it before didn’t mean he listened to any of it. “Blah blah, something about how they’re rowdy and don’t like to listen. I’ve got it all under control, watch this. Bagon, do a spin.”
Bagon looked up at him as if to say “Really?”
“Do a spin specifically to spite her and her overbearing concerns.”
And with a slight tweak in phrasing, the Dragon was suddenly all on board, going above and beyond just “spinning” and doing a mock of a Pirouette so bad it would have made any ballet instructor weep tears in shame.
Dawn gave him a flat look, but didn’t verbalize any of her thoughts. She didn’t have any experience dealing with Dragon’s herself. Besides, every trainer had their own ways of doing things, and if it worked then it worked.
“If you’re in Oreburgh, does that mean you’re going to challenge Roark for your first badge? I had an easy time thanks to Piplup, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover.”
“Beating that Gym is the only reason I’m in this dump of a town. We’ve got it in the bag. We’ve been training hard the last two days and running drills for what to do in different situations. Not to mention we swung by the Gym yesterday evening and watched Roark bully some poor kid with a Starly. We saw the area's environmental hazards ahead of time, and got a good look at the type of Trainer Roark is. I’ve got plans and strategies to counter him, while he’ll be fighting me blind.”
Mark would have liked to see an actual match, but the Gyms charged a $3 entry fee for any match with a challenger that had a gym badge already- presumably because those trainers were guaranteed to put up a good fight for the audience. And Mark wasn’t paying Roarby a dime, granted that was mostly because he couldn’t afford to give away any dimes, but the point still stood.
“Wow, you sound really confident.’
Mark turned to Casey and gave him a shrug.
“I just know I can win.”
And that was all he could really say, because how was he supposed to explain that he’d trounced the easiest Gym in the game dozens of times when he was a kid? Obviously this would be more difficult than spamming a single button, but he already knew what he was dealing with.
“And done!” Dawn snapped her Pokedex shut and stood up with a prideful grin.
“That was fast.”
“Well, I am a certified lab trainer, even if I’m not a researcher myself.” Dawn preened. “Your Bagon is perfectly healthy, if slightly overweight. I’d recommend only feeding him certified Pokemon food, and not Human food.”
Bagon looked up at her, completely betrayed, and cried out in indignation.
“He’ll work it off, he needs the calories anyway. It’s called bulking, trust the process.” Mark waved her off, much to Bagon’s relief.
“Sure it is.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “Just don’t come crying to me when your team is mildly obese from all the sugar in processed food. Here.”
She pulled a small sphere from her bag’s front pocket and tossed it. Mark’s arm shot up and snatched the expanding Pokeball out of the air, before it could bounce off his head.
“There’s your payment for letting me help you. Now I need to go send this data to Professor Rowan, so I’ll be leaving. Good luck on your Gym battle.”
Casey glanced between Mark and Dawn, then with an awkward wave, followed after the younger girl.
Mark didn’t wave back, instead he stared down at the empty Pokeball as he turned it over in his hand.
A hundred dollars just for a basic low-grade Pokeball. The price for specialized capture spheres, Ultra Balls especially, were just absurd, easily running over a thousand dollars. Luxury Balls were even more crazy, hitting over 3,000 for just one.
He’d desperately wanted a spare Pokeball on his hike from Eterna, but just didn’t have the funds. Why did he want one so bad? Well, it all had to do with route 206, specifically with Wayward Cave.
That was the only practical place in all of Sinnoh to get a Gibble.
The only other place to catch one was, what, Victory Road? Did you really expect any same player to wait until they had cleared every Gym and completed the main story before getting the Sinnoh region’s dragon?
Nuh uh. Wayward Cave cave was the only real option.
The only problem was that during his hike he hadn’t been able to find it. And his battle with Roark was tomorrow, so even now that he finally did have a Pokeball, he didn’t have time to go camp out at the bottom of the ravine, and spend several days looking for the one specific crack in the cliff side that led into a cave.
“I’ll get loads of money if we can beat Roark tomorrow, anyway, so I can buy a dozen of my own Pokeballs if I want.” He tossed the ball into the air and caught it as it fell back down. “Meanwhile I physically cannot afford to lose, considering I can’t even pay the base entry fee, let alone triple that amount for the bet.”
The smart thing to do would be to use this to boost his chances in the battle somehow, but what could he possibly do with it? It was almost 10Pm, he wouldn’t even have time to get to know any Pokemon he caught, let alone actually train them.
“Decisions decisions.”
-The Dragon King-
The moon hung high in the midnight sky, casting a silver glow over the serene forest. Ancient trees stood tall and silent, their leaves whispering secrets to the cool night breeze. A gentle mist curled around their roots, shimmering faintly in the moonlight. The forest floor was a soft carpet of moss and fallen leaves, damp with dew and perfumed with the earthy scent of pine and wildflowers. Fireflies danced lazily among the shadows, their tiny lights flickering like stars fallen to earth. In the distance, the soft hoot of an owl echoed through the stillness, a guardian of the night. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the soothing symphony of crickets and the rustling of unseen creatures, creating a sense of peace and timeless magic.
“BIAHHH!”
This was all abruptly shattered as a blur of brown fur was flung through the air, leaving an arc of blue light in its wake, from the burning ball of Dragon Fire clinging to it.
It crashed through the branches with all the grace of a thrown brick, smashed into a tree trunk, and crashed into the mud with enough force to make a crater.
“Biiii…”
The poor, helpless, and completely overwhelmed Bidoof pulled itself to wobbly legs, only for Bagon to slam into its side, and send it flying into a mossy boulder.
But the poor Pokemon didn’t catch even a moment of reprieve, instead it caught a solid metal object right in its face.
“Bido!” It cried out in pain, and was knocked on its back.
“Huh? What happened? Why didn’t- oh, the ball must have hit it with the back side, hold on.” Mark scooped up the Pokeball again, reared back like a pitcher, and fucking hurled that thing like it was damn baseball.
Bidoof was once again nailed square in the fucking face by a metal sphere speeding sowards it at 85mph, but thankfully it was sucked inside this time.
One wobble.
Two wobble.
Three wobble.
DING!
“My first wild catch! Maybe not what I would have wanted, but that’s still awesome!” Mark grinned as he picked up the Pokeball. “That’s another step to being a real trainer.”
Bagon stomped over, looking grumpy despite their success.
“What’s wrong buddy? Did the oversized hamster bite you when I wasn’t looking?”
“Bagon.” he shook his head, and raised his nose in disdain at the Pokeball Mark was holding.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. This guy’s not going to replace you, Hell, he’s not even a real team member. You’re giving the HM mule way too much credit. Think of this one as strategic fodder. We need it to carry specific moves that you can’t learn like Cut, Rock Smash, Surf, Rock Climb, and stuff.”
Marcus grinned and held up the Pokeball, its cold metal surface glinting in the silver light of the moon.
“You are now Bidoof1, manual laborer of team Winners. That way I can tell you apart in case I need to get a Bidoof2 or a Bidoof3.”
Bagon looked like he still didn’t understand, but shrugged and went along with it, satisfied that his position wasn’t being threatened.
Far far away in the Distortion World, the failed usurper also didn’t get it.
Giratina experienced what the mortals called a “headache” for the first time in his life as he struggled to understand what he was seeing in the materium. HM mule? What in the world was his champion talking about?
-Chapter End-