-The Dragon King-
-Redline: Ch 4-
How do you tame a dragon?
It was a question that Dragon Masters and specialists were frequently asked by rookie, and even experienced trainers, who were struggling to deal with unruly party members that didn’t learn to trust the same way other Pokémon did.
It was a difficult question to answer. There were plenty of tips and tricks that could help, and advice to pass on, but it didn’t always work. Everyone seemed to have a different way of doing it, and there wasn’t a clear consensus as to why something that reliably worked when one person did it, failed miserably when someone else tried.
Indigo league champion, and head of the Blackthorn clan, Drake put it bluntly in an interview several years prior.
“Giving advice is mostly pointless. The people who are able to truly earn a dragon’s trust do it instinctively, entirely on their own.”
Shelgon materialized in the middle of a clearing, ticked off, and ready to fight, with the memory of his humiliating loss fresh on his mind.
Instead of an opponent, however, he found himself facing Mark, and surrounded on all sides by five Bidoofs.
“Let’s get this over with quick. You lost us that battle. We lost to a soyboy fucking pink puffball of a wannabe trainer, who hadn’t ever had a battle before, because you refused to listen to orders.” The vet scowled down at Shelgon with his arms crossed. “This has been going on for a while, but it stops now.”
“SHELL!”
“Nuh-uh, none of that. Look around. You see these dumbasses around you? They’re super weak, you could take them all on by yourself, but I would have WON that fight using them. Hell, since they bother to listen I could use them to beat you!”
“SELLGON!” The Dragon roared in fury, as his bruised pride was beaten down even further.
BANG
All the Pokémon in the clearing jumped at the sound of the gunshot. Now with attention back on him, Mark holstered his gun, now a bullet short, and a smoking hole in the ground a short distance away.
“I am the trainer, you are the Pokémon. I strategize, you battle. I give the orders, you obey. That is what you agreed to when you joined me.”
From his back, Mark pulled out a metal baseball bat. It was beaten up, dented, and bent slightly from frequent use. It was the exact bat that he had beaten Shelgon with when he caught him.
“If you’ve somehow forgotten that, then please tell me, I’ll be more than happy to refresh your memory.”
Shelgon tensed up, his eyes narrowed, and for a moment it looked like he was going to try his luck, but Mark refused to back down, and met the dragon’s gaze unflinchingly. The Bidoofs chittered to one another in panic, and prepared for a fight.
Against traditional logic, it was Shelgon who blinked first, and broke eye contact in submission.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” Mark scoffed and spat out the wad of gum to the side, then he squatted down the Shelgon’s eye level.
“Look, bud, I’m not trying to be an ass about this, but you’re forcing my hand. I’m trying to help you, actually. You want to win, I want to win, we’re both competitive- it’s why we work so well together! I’m not even saying you need to be some robot that only does exactly what I say, I actually want you to think on your feet and lean into all those battling skills you’ve got. But when I give an order, you need to follow through. Do you understand?”
Shelgon didn’t respond.
“Do. You. Understand?”
Shelgon let out a weary warble, and nodded his head.
“Good.” Mark placed his hand on the dragon’s shell and rubbed his friend’s head. “We’re a team, buddy, we’re partners. I can’t help you become the very best if you don’t let me do my part. Let’s soar to the top together, whaddya say?”
Shelgon met his trainer's eye with a burning ambition.
“SHELL!”
-The Dragon King-
The sun was beginning to set when Helena finally met Mark near the local ice cream shop.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” She exclaimed, panting for breath as she rushed over. “It took longer than I anticipated to move the things I won’t be bringing to a room in a storage shed I’m renting.”
Behind her, Haunter lazily floated several travel bags with Psychic as he followed along.
“Well you lost your chance at free ice cream.” Mark snarked as he took another bite of his Double Chocolate Chocolate Chip swirl cone. “You got anything else you need to do before we head out? Once we leave we’re not coming back.”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“You sure?”
Helena bit her lip in thought, and glanced at the shop behind Mark.
“Well...”
-The Dragon King-
The two travel companions made their way to the edge of town with twin cones in their hands- one a mint green, the other a chocolate brown.
“Eterna city is our next stop. Both because it’s massive and has everything we could possibly need to stockpile on for a trip around the continent, and because Gardenia owes me a badge. You said you did the gym circuit, right? Can you give me any tips for her?”
“Well, there’s not really a lot to say. I’m surprised you didn’t go to her first, actually. She specializes in Grass types, makes use of Sunny Day, and uses status effects to teach challengers to not underestimate them. Is there anything specific you’re asking about?”
“I want to know her fighting style, any tricks she likes to pull, and if she’s likely to throw out a level 70 something Steelix at me.”
Hellena laughed awkwardly in a way that didn’t inspire confidence, and rubbed at her arm. “N-Not exactly?”
“I feel a massive but on its way.”
“You likely won’t be able to beat her, she has one of the lowest knock out rates against challengers, second only to Vulkner, but she gives out the most badges of all the Gym Leaders, you’ll be fine.”
“Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense. Highest badge rate, but one of the lowest KO rates? How the crap does that work?”
“Because of her Roserade. It’s her starter, and she uses it in almost every battle on her record, even against Type disadvantages. That Roserade is strong enough to give some of the Elite Four’s Pokemon a hard time. But with challengers, she never fights at her fullest, and always holds back. Gardena doesn’t give out badges for beating her, she gives them out to anyone that she’s impressed by, and who she thinks is taking good care of their Pokemon.”
“Ugh, that’s the type of hippie shit I was worried about.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Knowing my luck she’ll think I’m some hack who isn’t a ‘real’ trainer, and immediately hate my guts.”
Helena gave him a shrug. Honestly that wasn’t impossible, considering how Mark tended to act.
“Alright! Plan ‘figure out how to beat the ever loving shit out of an Ace-level Roserade, so that leaf lady can’t deny me a badge’ is a go!”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help?” Helena offered weakly.
“Actually, can we have a battle when we make camp? Having Shelgon get experience fighting enemies that can go intangible would be really good.”
“MAAARK!”
The Dragon-Ghost duo turned and looked behind them to see Casey running down the street, waving frantically, with Dawn on his heels.
“A friend of yours?”
“Kind of.” Mark sighed. “More like an annoying acquaintance that I’m struggling to be nice to. He’s a good kid, but he cannot take a social clue to save his life. I think I’ve done everything short of putting it in writing that I don’t want to see him for a while, and it just goes over his head.”
Casey slid to a stop in front of Mark, concern written on his face.
“Hey, I heard about what happened from Nurse Joy, and… I just want to say that this isn’t the right path!”
…
Mark slowly blinked down at Casey, his brain stuttering for a moment.
“What?”
“You have friends you can rely on, you know. Catching more won’t help, because even if they look the same, they aren’t.”
“What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“Your Bidoofs.” Casey exclaimed with the same emotion as if he had lost those Pokemon. “Nurse Joy asked me to check on you. She said you lost your Bidoofs in a Ursaring attack, and have been acting strange ever since, talking about selling Pokemon, and catching even more Bidoof out of grief. I know you want them back, but you can’t replace them, you need to let them go!”
“Okay. Stop.” Mark pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache slowly began forming. Even Helena was looking at Casey strangely. “Forget being on different pages, we’re in different libraries. I have no grief over the Bidoof I lost against the Ursaring, all their expensive Pokeballs came out of it in pristine condition. The Bidoof did their job, and they’re, well, Bidoofs. Why would anyone be upset about losing some? You’re sounding like a flowerpot short of being a vegetable garden.”
“But- But you caught more… Trying to replace them out of grief…”
“Yeah because it worked, and I needed more to do it again. I was being pragmatic, like you need to be about most things as a trainer. I lost some pieces, so I replaced some pieces. It’s not a big deal, don’t get in a tizzy about it, dude.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“That’s- You can’t-” Casey stared up at Mark like he was looking at a complete stranger. “The most important part of being a trainer is befriending your Pokemon and having fun with them! If you don’t then you’ll never make it to the top! You can’t talk about them like- like chess pieces! You can’t throw them away!”
“I didn’t throw them away, that would have been wasteful. And it’s not like I got them killed on purpose, I just don’t see a reason to get all touchy-feely over a couple dead hamsters. I mean, yeah, it’s sad, whatever, let’s move on.”
“You’re a MONSTER!”
“Oh, grow the fuck up!”
“Hey!” Dawn shouted, and tried to cut in, but was immediately stonewalled by Mark.
“No! This guy needs to hear this!” Mark jabbed Casey in the chest.
“Fun? You’re enrolled in a bloodsport, dumbass! If you’re having your Pokemon fight to near-death for fun then you’re the one that’s fucked in the head. The reason people become trainers, the reason people tamed Pokemon in the first place, was for power. They wanted to survive. The champion rules the region, and the champion rules because who’s going to tell them no?? That’s why I’M doing this! Not for fun! Not for friendship! For power! Because when I become champion, I’ll never have to lose anything or anyone ever again!”
“And you’re willing to throw away Pokemon to get there!?”
“If that’s what it takes, then yes. In a heartbeat.”
“MONSTER!”
“Man the FUCK up! Death is a part of life! Pretending that it’s not doesn’t make you better than anyone else, it just makes you a narcissistic asshole!”
Mark roared, spittle flying into Casey’s face, as he pointed out at the distant tree line.
“Pokemon eat Pokemon all the time out there, the world is a mean place. Humans eat Pokemon, some Pokemon eat Humans! YOU eat Pokemon! Trainers go and chew through hundreds of wild Pokemon to train their teams! Don’t get mad at me for not pretending that they’re somehow magically different and special now that I have them trapped in a metal ball.”
“So, what, is Shelgon also nothing but fodder to you, as well? Your partner!?”
“No, because he’s different. He’s valuable. He’s strong. He’s hungry, like me, and wants to be so strong that he’ll never be helpless ever again.”
“So he IS different, but only because he’s like you? Mean and horrible?!” Casey spat.
“I should nail you in the jaw for that.”
“Go ahead and try! We’ll fight, and I’ll win, just like last time. Because the world isn’t the terrible place you say it is, and I’m right about what I say.”
“I lost because of bad planning, type disadvantage, and Shelgon not listening. I already have two of the three fixed. You really think your Ralts and Hat-whatever can take a bruiser like Shelgon while he’s backed up by five cannon fodder to support him and take hits?”
“I do, because I believe in my friends!”
“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy putting your face in the ground.”
BOOM
The ground shook, and a plume of smoke billowed up from the edge of the city.
Casey looked up at Mark with an angry glare, and said “This isn’t over.” before rushing off to the explosion.
“Man, this is just my rotten luck.” The military vet scowled as he watched his impromptu rival and the game protagonist run off into what was very obvious danger. “Let’s go try to keep them from dying, and the city from burning down.”
“Yes, them dying would be bad, because you were just starting to get through to him!”
Mark looked at Helena with raised eyebrows. “Were you listening to the right conversation?”
“Uhm, I-I think so?”
“...”
“...”
“Whatever you say.”
-The Dragon King-
Mark made his way to the edge of Oreburgh at a blitz speed, pushing past fleeing civilians, and weaving through the panicked crowds, in a way that you only could manage with previous experience.
He stopped behind a sturdy looking building, and carefully peaked his head out over the corner to see what was going on.
“Ah, shhiiiit.” He cursed. “This is my fault isn’t it?”
“RAAAAAAOOOOOHHHH!” The massive Ursaring let out a roar that shook the city, as it slammed its arm through the wall of a house, and caused half of it to cave in.
A red dog danced about around the bear’s feet, biting her and peppering her with flames, then jetting off before it got attacked.
“Keep her busy, Growlithe! We almost have the block evacuated!” Officer Jenny shouted from her motorcycle,as she drove circles around the Ursaring, blaring her siren as loud as possible to distract the beast.
“RING!”The Hibernator Pokemon raged as her claw came down on the ball of flaming red and yellow fluff, only to miss again.
By sheer and complete chance, as Ursaring slammed into the ground, her head came down in Mark’s direction.
The two locked gazes.
Her nose twitched, and her eyes widened as her pupils narrowed into slits.
…He’d had the Bidoof out that morning, and had been working with them. She could smell them on him.
“Fuck!”
Mark turned and ran, but he was too slow. A massive brown blur came crashing through the wall he had been hiding behind, jumped over him to cut off his escape, and swatted him with the back of a massive clawed paw.
Mark flew backwards into the collapsing building with a pained scream, as his forearm audibly cracked, and the apartment complex came down on top of his head.
-The Dragon King-
…
Mark stirred, his head throbbing as his consciousness slowly crept back to him.
The air thick with the choking scent of dust and crumbled concrete. Bits of rubble dug into his back, his arms pinned awkwardly beneath a jagged slab of plaster. For a moment, panic surged through him, his breaths came fast and shallow, and the confined space threatened to squeeze the life out of him. But he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus.
Panicking would only kill him faster.
Slowly, he tested his arms, wincing as pain lanced through his shoulder. He could move, if barely. The collapsed building pressed down on Mark from above, crushing him under its weight, and keeping his chest from being able to expand enough for a full breath of air. The few breaths he did manage to get were accompanied by sharp lances of pain from a broken rib.
A cold certainty gripped his spine, like a skeletal hand of ice. He would die here, if he couldn’t escape soon.
Shifting his weight, Mark began to claw at the debris with trembling fingers. Slowly he began pushing the rocks and metal rods away from him, painfully digging his way out, even as the rubble cut deep into his hands and became slick with blood.
A roar from the Ursaring shook the ground beneath him, and Mark was half convinced that his tiny pocket would collapse on him and kill him instantly.
But it didn’t, and so he continued. Slowly. Painfully. With bleeding hands, and broken bones. This wasn’t the first time he had been buried, and the bullet hole in his side ached, as it left a trail of fresh blood behind him.
Finally he managed to shove a particularly large rock out of the way, and the night sky opened up in front of him. The only way he could tell it was night was by the moon, because he couldn’t see the stars. They were hidden from view, choked out of existence by a thick blanket of smoke that suffocated the entire skyline.
Mark rolled out of the rubble and into the burning husk of a ruined city.
“GRACE!” He screamed, his dry throat threatening to tear itself open. “GRACE! WHERE ARE YOU!?”
Mark forced himself to his bleeding feet, and managed two shakey steps forward, before an enemy missile slammed into a nearby skyscraper, and an explosion of shrapnel knocked him back to the ground.
He cried out in pain, and clutched his neck. His military uniform, already torn up from being buried under rubble, had been cut like wrapping paper, and blood poured out of a jagged cut that ran from his collarbone up over his jawline.
“GRAAACE!”
He called out again, but his voice was barely audible over the constant CRACK of gunfire, and the THUNDER of artillery raining down.
“GRACE!”
His head swiveled, desperately looking over the area until, at last, he finally found her.
Or rather, what was left of her.
A bloody tangle of blond hair slumped over the side of a burning Jeep. An arm mangled into bending at three wrong angles. And her face- her face-
“Bleugh!”
Mark rolled over and vomited his stomach contents onto the ground.
The walls seemed to close in around him, as if the rubble of the building had come alive and pulled him back into its clutches.
His breaths came fast and shallow, each one a desperate gulp for air that never seemed to reach his bruised lungs.
"No. No, no, no, no no nononoono" He muttered, the words tumbling out in time with his frantic breaths that came out in stuttered bursts. His vision blurred at the edges, dark spots creeping into his periphery, as tears stung his eyes. “Grace, no, oh God, you can’t- nonono-”
His hands were clammy, slick with sweat, and when he pressed them to the ground to try to steady himself, the world seemed to tilt. The ground beneath him swayed like a boat on churning waters, and it was only the fact that he was already on the ground that kept him from tumbling over.
“Cross! There you are, boy!” Boots crunched down on the gravel as they walked into view, and an older man in an officer uniform squatted down in front of him. “If you couldn’t tell from the fact that everything’s gone to shit, the fuckin’ Pacific cucks knocked out our SAMs, and now tha Goddamned Texans are bombing the fuck out of all of us. Vegas is lost, the entire city is fucked, and command is finally giving the greenlight to pull out. We’re letting the traitors kill each other fighting over the ruins of this Hellhole.”
“S-Sir, m-my-” Mark looked upo at the officer, tears streaming down his face, blood and bile dripping from his chin. “My sister, Grace, sh-she, please!”
“...She’s gone, son. I’m sorry. So is most of the company.”
“No. NO! You’re lying! NoNOonoNONonon!”
SMACK
Mark’s head snapped to the side and pain exploded in his vision as the officer smacked him across the face with his pistol.
“Man the FUCK up! This is war, son! Death is a part of life! Pretending that it’s not doesn’t make you better than anyone else, it just makes you a narcissistic asshole! You think you’re the only one here who’s lost people!? She knew the risks when she took the oath, and I thought you did too.”
The officer stood up and spat on the ground.
“I thought you wanted to transfer over and try to be a SEAL in the future, or was I talking to some other snot nosed brat?”
“I do, sir.” Mark grabbed onto that thought, and wrapped it around himself like a lifeline.
“Then start acting like it. I’ve never met a Navy SEAL that cried on a mission. SEALs get shit done! Where’s your gun?”
“I-I lost it.”
“Then grab your side arm, wipe off those embarrassing tears, get to your feet, and fight! Because if you don’t, son, you’re gonna wind up as dead as everyone else! Do you understand me, sergeant!?”
“SIR, YES SIR!”
Mark shouted as he forced himself past the burning agony in his stomach and legs, to stand up. He wobbled, and had to catch himself on a wall, but he stayed standing.
As he stumbled forward, he had a cape draped over his shoulders, instead of a military uniform, and the gun he had in his hand shifted into a shoddy revolver. But the thought he held in a vice grip was the same one that had carried him out of the burning ruins of New Vegas that day.
“Man up. Real men don’t cry. Real men get things done.”
Mark forced himself forward, pulling himself back to the here and now, even as the constant sounds of gunfire and artillery echoed like dead ghosts in the back of his mind.
“Man up. Real men don’t cry. Real men get. things. done.”
As his body finally recognized that his wounds, while bad, were nothing as severe as they had been the last time he had been buried alive, Mark rushed forward in a dead sprint, jumping up the remains of collapsed buildings.
“Piplup, Ice Beam!”
“Growlithe, Fire Fang!”
“Cranidos, Zen Headbutt!”
“Ralts, Psybeam!”
“Haunter, Venoshock!”
As he crested the hill of rubble, Mark was met with the sight of the strongest trainers in the city laying into the massive Ursaring with all they had.
It was very clearly not enough.
Ursaring roared in fury as the attacks slammed into her, but didn’t slow down for even a second. She flexed her arm, shattering the ice that had grown on it, and swung her claw down with a merciless Swipe that cut deep into Cranidos, and sent him crashing through a nearby wall.
“CRANIDOS, NO!”
“Piplup, quick! Cover Roark!”
BOOM BOOM BOOM
Mark’s breaths came out in perfect sync of the memory of thundering death that haunted his every waking moment. He stared down at the scene with a stone faced expression that betrayed no emotion other than anger.
Gun in his hand, knife on his belt, six Pokeballs- five of which expendable cannon fodder.
“Real men get things done.”
-Chapter End-