In accordance with my new policy of more frequent updates, here's the eighth chapter. It's sort of a two-parter, so a lot of things which are set up here won't be explained until Chapter Nine, which should be out sometime next week. Enjoy!
Chapter Eight
~ Training Day ~
~1~
The streets of Oriel City were thronged with busy shoppers called outside by the sun. Businessmen weaved among them with fixed expressions while hotdog vendors and men standing beside thick stacks of newspapers volubly plied their trade. The only odours were fresh air, frying onions and the smell of money beating from the glimmering skyscrapers that watched over the city like sentinels: Oriel, like most cities of its size, had been entirely turned over to its pedestrians, and no car was allowed anywhere inside the city centre. If you wanted to travel between one area of town and another, you walked or took the tube; on this beautiful day almost everyone seemed to be opting for the former.
Walking along the pavement, just behind a gaggle of businesswomen on their lunch break, Sen surveyed his surroundings with a satisfied sigh. After a long time, finally he was back in the big city! He’d enjoyed his brief sojourn in the country, and was looking forward to returning there, but for a little while it was nice to be immersed once more in the bustling, noisy environment of a living city. He had a new backpack on his shoulders, fresh clothes on his body and a spring in his step; things were looking up. Nick, who occupied his now customary position perched on Sen’s pack, was watching the crowds with the uncertain air of a person who has never seen quite so many people in one place before. Every so often he would emit a nervous croak and nibble fretfully on Sen’s hair. There was less of it to nibble on now, of course; Sen had just treated himself to a haircut with purple highlights which he was admiring in the windows of each shop he passed. In short, life was good.
Sen reached into his pocket and produced a plastic map which he began to examine. He would never have dreamed of exhibiting such obviously touristy behaviour before, but right now he was in too much of a good mood to care. On his travels with Charlotte they had covered all of the major cities in the country, and Sen knew most of them by heart - if, that was, he wanted to go shopping or to a nightclub. The locations of trainer facilities Sen did not know and had not wanted to know; just watching other people enjoy spending time with their Pokémon had been too painful for him to contemplate.
Now, of course, things were different.
Sen’s finger circled the map until he pinned down the location he was looking for. He looked up at the street signs, and discovered he was one left turn away from his destination. He hurried further down Mauller Way, turned left, and there, at the end of the street, was the sign:
BATTLE PLAZA
Reach The Next Level
It showed an Electabuzz and Magmar locked in mortal combat, the tiger-striped Pokémon smashing a fist crackling with electricity into the latter’s chest. Beneath the sign was an entry arch with a toll both and several trainers queued up outside. Sen joined the end of the queue.
If he was going to win his second Gym badge, he’d need to prepare. He didn’t know anything about the Oriel Gym Leader’s reputation, but in a place like this he was sure to be facing a tough fight. His victory over Bryson had been a close one, and things could just as easily have gone the other way - as they had for Celeste. Sen had no intention of letting his winning streak end at one, and it was this which had prompted him to come to the Plaza.
Slowly, the line moved forward. Nick muttered and fidgeted restlessly on his shoulder.
It was time to see what he and his Pokémon could achieve - particularly Nick. He knew the Pokémon was wily, but he had yet to see him battle, and to be perfectly frank Sen was having doubts. The bird just looked so scrawny and frail, not to mention those worrying grey feathers peppered throughout his plumage. Exactly how old was the Murkrow, anyway? He was fast in the air, at least; if nothing else, he’d be hard to hit in a battle.
Sen was less worried about his other Pokémon: Gale and Bombus had already proved their strength, it was just a matter of working with them to develop a battle plan. Celsius, for all his tiny size, was becoming quite expert with Fire attacks, and the Torchic was certainly not lacking in the guts department: plenty to work with there. The real problem was the Murkrow.
Well, Sen thought, that’s why I came here. Don’t write him off just yet till you see what he can do.
The Murkrow, as if sensing his thoughts, croaked uneasily.
The trainer in front of him finally paid her admission and walked off, thankfully removing her hideous Marill backpack from his sight. Sen stepped up to the booth and found himself face to face with a dour-faced man wearing a ludicrous Pokéball hat.
“Hi,” the man said with a complete lack of enthusiasm. “Welcome to the Battle Plaza. We currently have ten courts available: three for parties of four, four for parties of two…”
“One, please,” Sen interrupted.
The man entered this into his computer.
“Four fifty,” he said. Sen handed over the cash as a small printer spat out a receipt which the man tore off and handed to him along with a small golden key.
“Court 5F,” he said. “Next!”
Sen walked through the arch, following the Marill backpack who had now paired up with a Jigglypuff tote. The path ahead branched off in several directions to large fenced-off areas the size of squash courts. Through the wire Sen could see and hear trainers and their Pokémon, in ones, twos and the occasional foursome, battling each other or training against their own Pokémon. Sen walked among the courts, hearing cries of “Meowth, use Pay Day!” and “Sandshrew, Slash attack!” as he looked for court 5F. He jumped backwards as a Furret was thrown against the fence of a nearby court by some unseen attack, causing it to bulge outwards before springing back in and throwing the Pokémon onto the ground. It got up, shook itself, and bounded back into the fray as its owner called out “Sorry!” to a startled Sen.
Eventually he reached the 5 court area, which was exclusively occupied by trainers training their Pokémon instead of battling others. He found court 5F unlocked the door and then locked it again behind him. It was about twenty square feet with a soft yet tough material on the floor; the ceiling was also covered in the same stretchy wires as the wall, presumably to prevent someone’s Golem from sailing through the air and landing on the Pichu next door. Sen laid down his backpack on the ground and removed his Pokéballs, laying them out in order. Nick fluttered from his shoulder and perched on a bench in the corner of the court.
“Come on out, everybody!” Sen cried.
The balls opened simultaneously, tops flipping back and spitting out an arch of white light that filled into the forms of his three other Pokémon: Celsius, looking bright and attentive as usual; Gale, who regarded her new surroundings with critical interest; and Bombus, who floated in the air until instructed to do otherwise. Sen looked them all over and nodded, satisfied. Behind the main Pokémon, Nick sat on the bench and preened.
“Right,” he said. “We’ve got a big Gym battle coming up, and we have to be ready for it. You three have already fought in one, and you did me proud. We have a reputation to keep up now, so let’s not mess around. I’ve set aside today for some work on our attacks and strategy, and also to break in Nick here, who’s never battled with us before. First of all, I’m going to pick one of you to attack and one to defend. Remember, this is just a practice battle, so it’s more about form and strategy than trying to hurt each other. That means you, Gale.”
The Chansey snorted. “Sey.”
“Since you’re so eager,” Sen said sarcastically, “you can go first. You go on the defensive, and Bombus here will attack under my orders, okay?”
The Chansey waddled forward into the centre of the court and stood facing Sen. She bent forward and clapped her stubby arms together, signalling she was ready. “Sey.”
Sen clicked his fingers. “Bombus? Take your place, please.”
With a gentle hum of wings Bombus floated towards Sen and stood beside him, facing down the big purple Chansey.
“Okay then. Gale, I want you to defend yourself. That’s defend, sweetpea, not attack. Whenever Bombus strikes, you have to try to deflect it and cause as little damage to yourself as possible. Trust me, you might think you can handle anything he’ll throw at you, but someday we might be facing a cheaparse Dragonite using Hyperbeam and you’ll want to be able to dodge it.”
“Sey!”
“Bombus, your main priority is to attack, but you should also be concentrating on your own defences, too. Don’t leave yourself open for her to strike back. Alright?”
“Sey!”
Bombus gave a slight nod of his head.
“Let’s go then. Bombus, start us off with a Pin Missile!”
The Beedrill raised his forearm stingers and pointed them directly at Gale, like a pair of lances. The spikes began to glow a whitish-green, and the Beedrill charged.
“Gale, dodge it!” Sen cried. “Anticipate his attack!”
The Beedrill, in range, thrust his stingers forward. At the same time, millions of tiny green sparks burst forth from its surface, fired directly at the Chansey. Gale dove to one side, but her large body couldn’t vacate the space in time, and the fiery needles hit home along her side. She yelled in anger, hitting the ground and rolling to her feet. Before his attack had even finished Bombus was pulling back and retreating to a safe distance, out of range of any counterattack.
“Good, Bombus!” Sen cried. “Nice moves. Gale, you need to be faster!”
“Chan-sey!” Gale spat, waving her arms dismissively. She hunkered down again, this time meaning business.
“This time, let’s try something tougher at close range,” Sen said. “Bombus, I want you to look for an opening to get in a Fury Attack. Gale, I want you to try to feint him into making a false move, then block. Okay?”
“Sey!”
The Beedrill gave a loud thrumming vibration of his wings to signify understanding.
The two Pokémon circled each other, furious, beady black eyes locked on large, expressionless red ones. Even Bombus’s antennae had ceased their usual amiable dance, and his entire spindly body looked tensed, ready. Bombus darted forward in an attempted fake-out, but Gale stood her ground, not that easily fooled. She spat a vicious “Sey!” at him, but Bombus failed to react. In his state of intense concentration, he probably hadn’t heard.
The Pokémon continued to circle. Suddenly, Gale darted forward, screaming. Bombus, surprised, flew backwards, slamming into the wire of the court. Gale leapt into the air and flung herself at him in a Body Slam.
Bombus reacted quickly: he thrust his abdomen forward, the tail-stinger glowing a bright purple. A volley of violet sparks fired from it similar to those that had been emitted from his forelegs: these struck Gale in the chest, mid-air, and knocked her to the ground.
That Chansey really needs to listen to orders, Sen mentally sighed. Bombus circled over her as she lay on her side on the ground, eyes squinted shut more in humiliation than pain.
“Nice Poison Sting,” Sen said to Bombus as he, approached the Chansey. He stood over her. “Gale, when will you learn to listen to what I say? Battling isn’t all about throwing your weight around and hoping for the best. You have to plan, to strategise, and sometimes hold tight until they make the first move.”
Sen helped the Chansey to her feet, feeling her weird rubbery skin under his fingers. She waved him off and took up her position on the centre of the court again.
“Maybe you should have a rest now,” Sen said.
“Sey,” Gale said, hunkered down. She evidently wanted one more chance.
“O-kay,” Sen said. “Bombus, let’s try the Fury Attack one more time.”
The Beedrill and Chansey began circling again as Sen stood to one side, watching. The Pokémon were concentrating so intensely, they really wanted to beat each other. Yet there didn’t seem to be any real anger in them, either. Gale had snapped, yes, but she’d been trying to control herself before that, and with more success than she’d ever had. And now she wanted another try. No temper tantrums, no screaming; she’d just picked herself up and tried again.
Sen smiled.
Bombus darted forward, one of his foreleg stingers stuck out low, the other raised back and ready to deliver a second blow. He was aiming to strike directly at Gale’s stomach, and the Chansey just stood her ground, waiting.
Why isn’t she trying to move aside? Sen wondered.
The Beedrill came within range and suddenly spun to the right, anticipating Gale to make a move that she hadn’t. He brought his right foreleg forward and jabbed it directly at her stomach - but the stinger stopped short, held in Gale’s stubby hands. Gale spun with the Beedrill, using the momentum of his own attack to turn on her feet like a top, still holding onto his stinger and taking him with her. She completed four revolutions, increasing in speed, before letting Bombus’s leg go and sending him flying into the wall of the court, sliding to the bottom in a confused but fairly unhurt heap.
Gale looked very pleased with herself. “Sey,” she said.
Sen broke out into a surprised laugh. “Gale!” he cried. “That was Counter! You just did a Counter! Well done!”
Gale waved his praise off, but looked pleased just the same.
Of course! Sen thought. She knew she was too big to escape his attacks, she’s too much of an easy target. She’d never be able to get out of the way in time, so she stood her ground and deflected it, using his own speed and power against him. God. She’s a better strategist than I am!
Sen walked over and took the Chansey’s stubby proto-arm in his hand, shaking it. “Well done,” he said. “That was quite the good move.”
If her purple skin had not made it undetectable and if the act itself had not been outside of her species’ repertoire of expressions, Sen felt quite sure he would have seen Gale blush. Bombus, who had floated back into the air, flew over and nodded his head at the Chansey in newfound respect.
“Bombus, you can take a break now,” Sen said. “Gale, if you don’t mind, could you train with Celsius for a while?” Bombus flew over to the bench and hovered above it in mid-air, not sitting down. Sen wondered if his wings ever got tired. Celsius hopped forward onto the court and came running up to his feet, excited to be able to join in the battling.
Sen looked down at the tiny Torchic, and then up again at the Chansey who was even taller than he was. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to pit these two against each other, he thought. Then again, he didn’t want Celsius to think he had so little faith in him that he’d be reluctant even to let him practice battle against Gale. He leaned across to the Chansey as they took up their positions and whispered “Go easy on him, okay?”
“Sey,” Gale said easily enough. Sen was surprised. He’d expected some kind of disgusted reaction, but apparently Gale considered Celsius so small a threat to her dominance that she was willing to play nice with him. The Pokémon faced each other, one ridiculously larger than the other, yet both wearing identical expressions of determination.
“Guys,” Sen said, “basically, same rules as before. The aim is to develop strategies and battle plans, maybe discover new techniques, not to beat the crap out of one another. Cel, I’m talking to you.”
Gale snorted.
“Okay. Gale, once again, you’re on defence. Celsius, I want you to start off with an Ember attack. But this time I don’t want it just to come out of your mouth, I want you to try to spit it at her, kay?”
The Torchic nodded at him.
“I want you to fire it. Just coming out of your mouth is okay for close-range, but remember: she’s on defence, you have to take the attack to her. Okay, go! Ember!”
Celsius opened his beak and coughed. Nothing happened, so he coughed again. Sen waited patiently, and Gale relaxed from her defending position.
“Take your time Cel,” Sen said, “just, whenever you’re ready.”
Celsius hacked a few more times. On the third cough, a jet of flame spurted out of his mouth for two seconds and licked around the ground. Celsius blinked; he’d remembered how to create flame again.
“Good,” Sen said. “Now use it, smack her right between the eyes with an Ember shot!”
Celsius took a few deep breaths, calmed himself, and got ready to show what he could do.
~2~
In truth, he was still a little intimidated after what had happened at the Lammergeyer Gym. He’d fought well against Rocky, but that had only been with Sen’s brilliant (if rather cruel) strategy. The real thing that stuck in his mind about that battle was when the Graveller’s fist had come crashing into him, sending his small, dazed body flying through the air. It wasn’t so much that he’d been hurt as the shock of the blow that had disturbed him: realising just how small, weak and helpless you were against the unstoppable might of another was never a pleasant experience to have.
Gale was no Graveller, but she had defeated that very same Pokémon and Celsius had already seen her swing her feet with devastating force. He didn’t want to be in her shadow when she was delivering a Body Slam, either.
On top of everything else, he was nervous. Sen was counting on him, and he didn’t want to disappoint. Even more, he didn’t want to disappoint himself. Long ago he’d sworn that one day he’d never let anyone push him around again, that he’d become a strong, powerful Blaziken and stand up for the weak and downtrodden. As the purple Chansey loomed over him, that day seemed an impossibly long way from the present.
Each time he tried his flame, it guttered out. Sen was being patient with him, but he could sense rising worry behind his trainer’s calm exterior. Gale, meanwhile, was completely satisfied in her own superiority. It never even crossed her mind that he could do her damage.
He’d have to see what he could do about that.
Celsius closed his eyes and concentrated, shutting out all external sounds and sensations and visualising a dark hollow in his chest. He then imagined a small orange pinprick of light, growing in size, expanding, brightening up the dark walls of his body and turning them red with light. The ball got bigger, hotter, brighter, almost touching the edges of his insides, in a second it was going to -
He opened his beak, and a jet of bright orange flame burst forward, four feet into the air. He snorted, coughing a bit of smoke; his flame was back.
“Good boy!” Sen shouted. “Now try to hit her with it!”
Gale seemed unimpressed by the small Ember burst; it hadn’t come anywhere close to touching her. He needed to project the fire, to turn it into a missile and throw it at her. He just didn’t know how; summoning the flame alone was an act of great will.
Once again, Celsius shut his eyes. He wasn’t going to be able to do this kind of thing in a proper match, but it would help him get a hold of his flame. His chest was once again cold, dark and empty. He imagined that emptiness, and then once again created a tiny flicker of orange light. He let it expand, but this time it was a more controlled growth; the hands of his imagination held it firmly in their grasp. The ball got bigger, and then he squeezed down, stopping it from reaching its former size and growing out of control.
He opened his eyes and his beak.
A small, pathetic flicker of flame licked out of his mouth and died quickly in the air.
He could feel everyone looking at him.
This was pathetic. Ember was one of the most basic Fire attacks, and he couldn’t even master it. Sen would probably ditch him in the woods or something.
But as he looked over on his trainer, he saw not disappointment, but something even more wretched: the face of a person who wants to help but doesn’t know how.
If the flame wouldn’t go to Gale … maybe he’d have to take it to her.
Celsius closed his eyes. Visualised the ball. Saw it expanding. This time, his imaginary hands stayed at his sides. He saw the ball get bigger and bigger, and grow completely out of control until its light and heat completely consumed his body.
Then, he opened his mouth to release it, and charged.
~3~
Sen’s eyes widened.
Celsius ran at Gale at the same time as the Ember erupted from his beak. Instead of shooting forward from his mouth, the flame stayed where it was and Celsius ran into it. The fire continued to blossom from his mouth, only this time it raced over him and covered his entire body, turning the Torchic into a running fireball.
Gale wore a similar shocked expression, before Celsius launched himself off his feet and tackled her in the stomach. She let out a cry of surprise as the flaming Torchic knocked her to the ground, the fire licking over her stomach before flashing out. Gale rolled onto her back and lay there, dazed, as Celsius stood triumphant on top of her.
“Chic!” the Torchic cried. “Chic, chic!”
“Congratulations,” said a sardonic voice from behind, “I think your Torchic just invented a new attack.”
Sen turned to see a girl watching him through the wires from the adjacent court. She was about five foot, slim, with pale skin and straight, white-blonde hair falling to chin-level around her face. Three piercings on each ear winked through her hair, none symmetrical with the rings on the other ear. She had faded blue eyes and her small, pink lips were pursed into an oddly condescending smile. A bead necklace hung around her neck, and she wore a grey and black t-shirt covered in swirling symbols, above ridiculously-billowing bellbottom trousers. Sen half-expected to see sandals peering out from under those clown-sized cuffs, but he was disappointed: white trainers.
Sen immediately didn’t like her. It was just a matter of finding out why.
“And you are?”
“Zara Mitchell. I was just observing your training. Very … interesting approach, I must say.” She put the kind of emphasis on interesting that suggested she thought blindfolded was an “interesting” way to drive a bus.
“Thank you, Zara. I’m Sen, and, if all else fails, I like at least to be interesting.”
Sen turned back to his Pokémon. Gale was getting to her feet, still not exactly sure what had happened, and Celsius was hopping over to Sen. From the dazed look the Torchic wore, Sen thought he couldn’t exactly believe it either.
“Have you ever tried meditation?” Zara asked.
“Not really,” Sen replied.
“I meant for your Pokémon. It’s a wonderful way to help them commune with themselves, to focus their strength and galvanise their spirit.”
She indicated the court behind her, where a Dragonair was coiled around itself and sitting with its eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the rigid way its neck was held upright, the blue serpent Pokémon would’ve looked dead.
“I just don’t think sitting around going ‘ummmm’ is a good way to prepare my Pokémon for battle,” Sen said. “Thanks all the same.”
Zara laughed, a light, arrogant tinkle. “There’s slightly more to it than that, Sen. I’d be willing to demonstrate its effectiveness, if you wanted a battle.”
At this, Sen’s ears pricked up. He’d had precious little experience battling with other real trainers, and wiping the floor with this hippy could be a good warm-up for the Oriel Gym.
“Of course,” Sen said. “I’m never one to refuse an opportunity to battle. Your court or mine?”
“Yours,” Zara said. She walked towards the Dragonair and reached out with her hand, touching it gently on the forehead. The Pokémon’s large black eye opened and it looked at her placidly.
“Come,” she said, and nothing more. She walked out of the court, holding the door open, and the Dragonair uncoiled itself and slithered elegantly after.
“I always think Dragons are such fascinating beasts,” Zara said breathlessly as she and her Pokémon entered Sen’s court. “So beautiful and mysterious. So much to teach us.”
“Yeah,” Sen said, not really caring, “so how do you want to do this? One versus one?”
Zara smiled her tight little smile again. “Certainly. My Dragonair against … one of your Pokémon.”
Sen raised an eyebrow. “You mean it doesn’t have a name? I thought you people always gave your Pokémon wacky names like ‘Zephyr’ and ‘Mephylleffenon’.”
Zara’s placid brow showed just the slightest tremor or irritation. “No,” she responded, “I do not chose to impose a name on him, anymore than I would wish him to impose one on me. His spirit has its own name, and any artificial label I provide would merely harm his close connection with his true self.”
“So you couldn’t think of one then.”
Zara clearly bristled. “Shall we battle?”
“Sure.”
~4~
Nick had been watching the proceedings with growing interest. This was turning out a lot better than he could’ve hoped.
In his long life, he’d done and seen things which few creatures - human or Pokémon - could either imagine or believe. He’d been witness to events of shocking cruelty and surprising kindness. Rich men, poor men, politicians, scientists, trainers and thieves: at one time or another, and under various names, Nick had been owned by them all. And yet none of them had truly owned him. He had survived each one, leaving them behind sometimes on a peaceful deathbed, sometimes not - on one memorable occasion, he had bid his owner farewell as the man lay bleeding on a cold lonely moor, a knife protruding from his back. The other Pokémon had shared a stunned, lost expression; not Nick. (Or, as he had then - and twelve times since - been known, “Nevermore.”) It was always sad to see an owner die, but Nick got over it. He picked himself up, flew into the sky and felt his worries dwindle with the ground below as his mind started to wonder where the winds of life would carry him next.
His previous owner had been different. Not just charismatic and brilliant, but a man who knew where the real pleasures in life were to be had - and not only knew where they were, but delighted in sharing them. Nick had allied himself with thieves before, but never one so devious, never one who delighted so in the process rather than the gain. Time and again his master had set himself impossible tasks, fiendish puzzles to be solved purely for the delight of solving them, more than the mere trinkets to be snatched up as the prize. The glittering, dazzling objects began to haunt Nick, to beg him to set them free; yet his master had taught him to appreciate this siren song on another level unattainable to most of his species. He taught Nick to love the act of stealing, the act of solving, rather than the result.
Then he had died, and for a long time Nick had refused to accept it. His powerful brain, which had over the years become adept at sizing up the weaknesses and entry points of any house without him even having to think about it, was blind to the fact of his master’s death. Nick continued to steal on his own, to bring his master the gifts in the hope that, somehow, the unthinkable would be reversed. But it was all in vain: his master was dead, and for the first time in his long life, Nick was truly sorry.
Then Sen had come along, and things had been different. Nick, who usually relied on steady, dependable logic, found himself having a peculiar intuition about the boy. Its exact nature was hard to pin down: he simply found himself drawn to him, as if sensing a potential which he could help realise. He had never felt this attraction before, not even when he had met his master for the first time. It was as if, in this boy, there was the chance to realise something greater even than the sum of his experience with previous humans. The chance for something big.
So Nick had set the human a test. If his intuition was to be trusted, the boy would have to be capable of wriggling out of a trap that would have snared even his master. He followed the boy through the woods, tracking his progress towards Chough (one of the many towns in the area in which he had been conducting his nocturnal activities) and plotting what he would do. When the time was right, he fluttered down, introduced himself, and put the plan into action. The very next day, the boy was in a jail cell - something that would never have happened to his master - and Nick was resting comfortably once more in the knowledge that his intuition had been wrong, and the boy was nothing special after all.
Then something strange had happened. Somehow, the young man - with some help from his friend, the girl - had managed to escape from an impossible situation, and not only that, but shift the blame away from himself and entirely onto someone else. (That in this case the blame fell on members of Nick’s own kind did not disturb his mind in the least; he had encountered the Chough Murkrow flock a few times, and they were not a very bright bunch.) Not only that, but the young man had then tracked Nick down, intuited (almost) everything about his relationship with his master, and, most astounding of all, made him an offer of partnership.
He was scared to admit it, but it appeared his initial intuition had been correct. This young man - Sen - was something very special indeed. And Nick, old and jaded though he was, decided he wanted to tag along for this ride.
So far, he had not been disappointed.
Sen certainly had a knack for getting in sync with his Pokémon. In their short time together, he had even managed to work himself into the curmudgeonly Murkrow’s affections. Not only that, but he was dealing well with the troublesome Chansey, a task Nick thought even his master would have long ago given up as a lost cause. He was rather talented in battle, too - nowhere near as skilled as some of the people Nick had worked with in the past, but certainly promising.
Which was why, as this arrogant upstart of a girl began challenging Sen to a battle, Nick decided it was time for him to step forward. He had trained with powerful men in his time, and although he did not particularly enjoy battling - the intellectual challenge was considerably less than, say, trying to steal some eggs from a Pidgey nest without getting caught - he had, over the years, become rather good at it.
Sen, the other Pokémon and in particular the upstart of a girl were all about to discover this old bird had a few tricks left in him yet.
Tangled Web
Um, try not to go down the whole Misty Ash thing with Celeste and Sen, okay? Thats a bit overused in my opinion, but even if you do go donw that path, I know that you will make it work really well.
Originally Posted by shazza
Anyway, nice job, and I can't wait to read more.
But I've said that soooo many times its time for me to think of something new.
What did he do?
