“Again,” I told Champ as he punched his radiant fist through the air, causing a sonic boom to echo through the observation deck. A beautiful corona of light shone through the air as a gust of wind flew past me. By this point, the first rays of the sun’s light were shining on the horizon, and we'd gathered a few onlookers as they watched us practice.

Champ's new technique was good. But not good enough. It still took a second too long to fully charge up.

“Again,” I bellowed, mustering that unwavering malice I held in check before the Celadon disaster.

Champ took his stance as his fist charged up the coalescing energies of both Mega Punch and Brick Break before unleashing it again. Another cracking boom as the energies dissipated into the air once more, creating a beautiful corona of white and orange light. A more powerful gust of wind rushed by me as Champ started to pant heavily from exhaustion, his body covered in a layer of sweat.

Hm… That was quicker, but still not there yet. I need it to be Instantaneous, especially now that he doesn't have his left arm for guarding. I can see the look of sheer frustrated determination on his face and scratch the small bit of white stubble growing on my chin. What can we do to make this easier? After we cried out everything in our system earlier in the night we sat down on the bench and I explained everything that occurred with Prof. Oak and Meredith. How we were going to be going up against Kenneth instead of Forrest and if he wanted to stay at Oak’s lab and technically retire.

A chuckle escaped my lips remembering the look of pure disbelief and anger on his face at my suggestion. He jumped off the bench and started yelling at me.

“Again.” I bellowed as I crossed my arms across my chest focusing again on our current training segment. Champ took a deep breath, resumed his boxing stance and roared in disgruntled anger as the punch came out almost instantly. A rushing gale of wind hit me in the face causing my hair to billow behind me in a cascading mess. Champ smirked before falling on his back like a dramatic mess taking deep breaths. Several of the onlookers cheered him on and clapped at his improvement while I huffed out a breath of annoyance at the crowd watching us.

“Alright, Champ. Get up. We're starting the next segment.” I barked at him as he took a few more seconds before sitting up and looking at me, exasperated.

“Don't give me that look. We've got a lot of ground to cover. Now hop to it.”

Grumbling his complaints he got up and took his stance waiting for my next order. People kept coming over to watch, what was so fascinating about us? We weren't exactly the only ones practicing at this time. Was it because of Champ's garrish appearance? It's not often people see Pokémon with permanent injuries, so that could be it. I decided to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. Turning my attention back to Champ, I called out to him.

“Good. Now we're going to try something new. Imagine Mega Punch. All the steps. That whole process of moving your energy into your fist, but now focus it down into your feet.”

After bringing his breathing under control he closed his eyes and focused. His fist began to glow with the power of a mega punch before it dissipated and started to form at the end of his right leg before dissipating into nothing. He kept at this until eventually he got it to stick. It wasn't as strong a glow as his fist, but it was enough to tell me that he had managed to do it.

“You're doing great, now give the air a solid good kick.”

He shot his leg upwards causing a visible streak of light as the energy exploded in a small corona of white light followed by a gust of wind. He planted his foot down after the kick, maintaining his balance and coordination.

Hm… No visible issues, decent form. Not as powerful as a regular mega punch, but it should get stronger with more practice.

“Again, but with your left.” I barked at him as he did the attack with no issue. Another corona of light dissipating into the air with another gust of wind similar to his right. No visible issues with his left either. Still maintaining great form.

“Good, but not strong enough. Give me four sets of twenty for each leg. Switch after each set. ”

Champ nodded and grunted his acknowledgement and proceeded with his training. His typical look of sheer determination on his face as I watched and let my mind wander elsewhere.

I still couldn't believe that he wanted to evolve into a Hitmonchan even with his left arm gone. We both acknowledged that his best chances would be as a Hitmonlee and to switch our training routine for that but he refused. I ended up compromising with him by telling him if he plans on continuing the journey and becoming a Hitmonchan then he would have to learn to use his legs as well for fighting.

The sun’s light finished rising over the horizon, painting the sky its crystal clear blue as more people started to ascend from the decks below to use the park. Wingulls, and Pelippers started to circle around or land on the railings in preparation for possible food or scraps being thrown their way. The other fields began to quickly fill up as Champ started on his third set. The air was soon filled with the sound of Pokémon battles, kids running and screaming while they played in the playground.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It was jarring for me. It was always so jarring to be in such peaceful moments only to know lurking just beneath the surface was the disgusting atrocities committed by those malevolent monsters that call themselves humans. The kidnappers of both Pokémon and humans alike. I shudder at the thought remembering the device Oak had when he battled that Scabsol. It was the legal military grade tech version of the snag machine Team Snagem used to use. The Pokémon Association believed that they had gotten rid of any remaining trace of it, but Lysander had managed to get his hands on the blueprints and created his own. He also bought a case of Control Gauntlets from the Societea before they were disbanded and scattered across the regions. I would have to change the configuration of my pokeballs the moment I got into Fuschia City. There was a Pokeball engineer there that I knew who could add a program to my Rotom phone to allow me to scramble the access codes of their gears and prevent them from stealing my Pokémon. Well, at the least, the most common of the gear barring any new updated versions.

I let out a troubled sigh as Champ collapses on the floor once again breathing heavily. Alright, that should be enough training for now. I don't want to push him too hard and end up injuring him. Also, several trainers started to walk by to scope out the area and battlegrounds, I also don't want one of these upstarts to challenge us either.

“Ok, Champ. That should be enough for today. I'm going to recall you and let you rest for now.”

Before he could even protest, I returned him to the safety and confines of his pokeball. I pause for a moment as I look at his ball. Perhaps, I should change the stasis feature to allow my partners to be able to see what's going on. A tad more dangerous, sure, but it would be nice to have backup come out when I need it without having to activate the ball.

Nodding and making a mental note to see one of the nurses at the cruise’s Pokémon center, I started to walk away from the training field when a group of teens started walking my way.

“Well, well, well. If it ain't the so-called One-eyed demon of Viridian. See guys? I told ya that he ain't lost his eye and that eyepatch was a publicity stunt.”

The oldest one of the group, looking about my age, walked up to me. He was a few heads taller than me, I'm guessing five foot eight or so and one hundred seventy pounds. Dressed in black with the Steelix Sentinels heavy metal band logo on it, the design was of a rust colored Steelix wrapped around a skyscraper overlooking an apocalyptic landscape. Their band usually does music about the end of the world and how the Pokémon Association is going to be the reason behind it or some bullshit like that.

He had long dark straight hair down to his shoulders, his face was heavily covered in white face paint and he had black lipstick on. At this point, I lost all interest in him and his group of merry men. Putting Champ's ball away on my belt, I grabbed my backpack, doublechecked everything and started to walk away ignoring him. I didn't have time for egotistical assholes with some kind of bullshit to prove.

“Hey you chump! I'm talking to you, punk!” the metalhead yelled out after me as his goons rushed forward to surround me. I groaned internally as I saw six of them form a circle, each one sneering at me the same way the Rocket grunts used to sneer at their prey. Typical.

I let out a heavy sigh as I turned to face the de facto leader of the group. He sneered at me before he looked at his goons, clearly establishing his pathetic attempt at dominance.

Kill them all. Summon that pathetic excuse of a gelatinous blob and have it bathe them all in its acid. At least then it will be doing something worthwhile. Yes. Kil-

I pushed the thoughts down again as I focused on metalhead. I am not a killer. I will not -

My head fills with maddening laughter.

Not a killer? That's hilarious. Priceless, even. How you can believe that self-righteous load of shit. You know that Machop wasn't the only poor soul you -

“Hey! Are you listening to me, punk?!”

I felt his finger jam into my chest and fought the urge to grab it, snap it off and shove it into his eye. Instead I looked him dead in his dumb red contact covered eyes.

“I don't listen to assholes. Now, can you kindly get out of my way before I make you.” I growled at him. His body tensed up and for a brief second I could see him look uncertain before he quickly doubled down and snarled at me.

“Look here, ya little shit. Ya did my brother bad some weeks ago. Just cause you have some big bad sponsor to call off your bounty don't mean I ain't gonna give ya what's due.”

Ah, he's that little brat's brother. What was his name again? Steven? Arnold? Frankie! That was his name.

“Oh yeah, there was a wimp of a kid that I thoroughly trounced. What was his name again? Wendy? Trudy? Little bitch? You're going to have to refresh my memory. I don't particularly take to remembering weaklings.” I smiled back at him with as much vitriol contempt as I could muster, as much as I would love to diffuse the situation, I couldn't help but get the itch to goad the bastard. My hand twitched to Beca’s ball, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

I could see all the mirth leave him as his chuckling goons went silent. A vein in his forehead started to pop as his jaw clenched along with his hands balling into fists. No one was laughing now as they circled in a little more.

“Do you know who you're fucking with, little man? I am Jeremiah Thornebrook, of Thornebrook Industries. My family owns half the Viridian real estate. If you don't show respect to your betters, I'll make sure you'll regret it.”

I grinned as he got closer, putting his face close to mine. If there was one thing I truly loved, it was people's weak attempts at intimidation. I survived Rocket boot camp which was a nightmarish landscape of utter brutality. I don't take kindly to weaklings trying to show force.

“Sure, as soon as you show me where my betters are, I'll pay my respects.”

I didn't flinch away as I stood my ground.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating and I was relishing it. He cocked his fist back to throw a punch as I was halfway to releasing Beca when a flash of bright light shot between us and a Machamp materialized. It was seven feet tall and had pushed the two of us away with its four massively well defined and muscled arms. It's bluish-gray skin shining in the sunlight as it looked between the two of us with a frown on its face and annoyed red eyes. This one was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt with the word security on its back and had a matching cap on its head.

“Break it up! Break it up! It's too beautiful a morning for you young kids to be starting trouble.”

An old man in a dark red suit forced his way through the group encircling me and stood next to the Machamp glaring at each of us. Jeremiah stood his ground, his fists turning white from the clenching rage he held within before letting out a huff and running his hands through his hair to better compose himself.

“This isn't over. You're lucky the old man showed up, but he ain't gonna be around forever. I'll see ya later, twerp.”

With that he turned and he and his group of thugs dispersed into the gathering crowd around us. The old man turned around and gave me a weary look before rubbing his chin and sighing.

“I saw the whole thing. You could have easily walked away from the situation and yet you chose to instigate it further without fully knowing the power your opponent wields. Did you stop to think and consider what if he had more badges than you? A stronger team? What if his group decided to jump you with all of their Pokémon at once? The Association has rules set up, sure. But out here in the outskirts of Kanto and close to the sea? Those rules barely mean a thing.”

I clenched my jaw and didn't say a thing, letting his advice wash over me. He had a point. I forgot myself and the fact that I don't have the team that I used to have to back up my talk. One day. One day soon, my team will be strong enough though.

“Thank you for stepping in when you did, Mr…”

“Mr. Elisha Roanoak at your service. Now, allow me to escort you to the dining hall. It is no mere coincidence that I have come to see you, Erembour. ”

He finished with a tilt of his hat and a small bow which revealed short fiery red hair. He gave me a wink of his hazel eyes before gesturing to me to follow him.