Over two years had passed since Sabrina's arrival at the Gym, and as expected, she'd taken over the place in its entirety. Her word was law. Although deep down, she knew that Azure could take that power away with the snap of his fingers.
Inside the little run down shack she called home, an Abra -suspiciously similar to the one from her first fight- slept soundly next to a moldy mattress. And, above a pile of discarded books, a Mr. Mime meditated in silence.
"Cut that out," grumbled Sabrina, looking for Mew-knows where amidst the disaster that was the room. "You're a special attacker; in a real fight you'll be shoving that meditation right up your ass."
The door opened just then with an ominous screech. A familiar man with salt and pepper hair peaked through.
"This one's dangerous," he said, more hopeful than worried. "He blasted through the other five trainers with practically no effort. You better not underestimate him."
Sabrina stood up, stretching, and let out a big yawn.
"We'll see about that."
The man shoved a bunch of Pokeballs at random into a small box, and both he and the Gym leader headed out. The Gym was filled to the brim that day. Half the audience loudly cheered her opponent, while the other half clamored for his blood.
Just another day…
Sabrina entered the enormous cage, hands in her pockets, a lit cigarette in her lips. Cheers and insults rang throughout the arena. Lazily, she let her gaze fall on her opponent. A pretty unremarkable man, tall and with wild, messy black hair, a smile full of enthusiasm on his lips. She couldn't make out his age, but he must've been a couple years older than her.
She narrowed her eyes. There, hanging from his neck, resting against his chest, an iron cross gleamed against the powerful lights hanging from the ceiling.
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A priest, eh? Let's see what he's capable of.
She stuck a hand inside the box and pulled out a Pokeball. Her foe did the same, never dropping that irritating smile.
"Let's have a nice, clean battle," he exclaimed, bowing respectfully.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. Around the audience, comments and bets were already being made.
"Heh, that guy's not gonna last a minute against Sabrina."
"I wouldn't be so sure. Didn't you see how his Pokemon fought before? It wasn't… normal," someone else replied.
"He has the advantage in typing, that's for sure," a third commented.
"Type advantage ain't gonna be enough against Sabrina. Just watch."
Opinions and predictions -all scandalous and arrogant- flowed freely from person to person like the bills being passed around before the battle. The bets were high this time, although it wasn't terribly unusual for this gym. For a good portion of the audience, the two trainers inside the large steel cage were little more than investments.
Pokeballs in hand, they both stared deep into each other’s eyes, gauging the level of danger.
Then, something strange happened. The young man noticed the cigarette hanging from Sabrina's lips, and frowned.
"Aren't you a little young to be smoking?" he asked disapprovingly.
"Aren't you a little old to be believing in god?" she spat back.
"Ah… Still in that rebellious phase I see. My little brother is just like you."
"Less talk, more action, priest."
The young man chuckled. "And to think you're the famous Sabrina. The original being so striking and beautiful, I didn't expect her imitator to be a short, emaciated brat."
At that, Sabrina lifted an eyebrow, the smile going cold in her lips.
I'm going to kill him.
"Are you going to fucking start or do you want me to attack you first?"
"Geez, young people sure are impatient nowadays…"
The man with the silver cross threw his Pokeball toward the center of the arena, and from the burst of light emerged a tall, imposing insect-like beast, its body green and segmented, two long, sharp blades protruding out of his forearms in the form of scythes.
A Scyther.