There are twenty-three underpasses in Techne City. Places where trains pass over roads, or pedestrian crossings, or Pokémon paths. Eleven of them service the newer, more modern I-line that helps downtown commuters make the harrowing transition between the claustrophobic offices of the city’s heart and their comfy, suburban homes on the outskirts of the urban center.
These trains are fast, consistent, smooth, and most of all, quiet. They glide smoothly across electrified rails with nary a whisper, supplementing the city’s bus networks and subways to create an impressively comprehensive web of public-transportation.
The other twelve lie along the various routes of the F-Track: three long, circuitous lines that meet together at Rhenon station, on the western edge of downtown. The diesel-powered engines that traverse between Techne and its nearest neighbors are completely unlike the modern, electric trains on the I-Line. Plodding, irregular, jarring, and oh-so-very loud, these metallic behemoths are relics of a different age, but all efforts to replace them have been stonewalled; both by a lack of funds, and by a very small but equally determined interest group intent on maintaining their primary buyer for diesel fuels.
Demand is low enough that the oil monopoly can only last so long. Someday, probably soon, it will collapse in on itself, and the F-Tracks will get updated to bring them in line with the rest of the city’s public transit.
Until then, however, the blisteringly loud and terrifically slow engines will continue to shake, rattle, and roll along their iron tracks, an eyesore, earsore, and necessary evil.
And for as long as the F-track lasts, the seven underpasses (of the aforementioned twelve) that see little-to-no regular pedestrian traffic will continue to serve as the premier location for what are known in the Ferrum region as ‘back-alley-battles.’
It was the noise that made these places so paradoxically ideal. The sheer, unadulterated sound of the trains crashing by overhead twenty times a day. It was distracting, irritating, and loud, LOUD, LOUD!
Too loud. Moving sources of noise are difficult for synergizing partners to process. Hearing through two different sets of ears can be difficult at the best of times, and the crashing trains create a significant problem for the average battler and their partner.
The distracting clamor reaches each of the pair at different times. If that was all, it would be more surmountable, after all, loud noises are an omnipresent hazard during Pokémon battles, but the terrible racket made by the trains as they approach and depart goes on for so long that it often ends up inducing vertigo, nausea, and even forced disconnection.
More experienced duos can deal with it, of course, but really, why bother with these spaces when so many premium battle arenas are available for Ferrum’s most popular pastime. Every park, every dojo, every stadium, every Pokémon center, and hundreds of other locations have the necessary synergy stones and barriers to allow for real, true-to-Arceus Ferrum battles.
That same horrendous racket also makes the underpasses hostile to recreational facilities, living spaces, and really just about anything else you might be inclined to do. Honestly, the same was true for back-alley-battles, but the people participating in these brawls didn’t have a lot of leeway when it came to available spaces.
It wasn’t exactly illegal to participate in a back-alley, but there was a social stigma, for sure. It was like getting into a brawl on the schoolyard, or picking a fight in a bar. Back-alleys were uncouth, cruel, and dangerous. At least, according to popular wisdom. Something kids did before they understood better, and then never again.
Except, just because an opinion was popular and prevailing didn’t mean that everyone agreed. Some people preferred traditional battling, or couldn’t participate in the region’s oh-so-special variant. The reasons were as varied as the people who had them. Synergy-sickness was a big one among the older participants, but that wasn't even a plurality. Nearly as many of the local battlers were naturalized foreigners, and a similar number just liked traditional-style battling better for whatever reason. Some people had multiple partners that needed exercise, others wanted to battle with Normal-type partners or multi-mons. There weren’t a lot of them, relative to the population of a city like Techne, but they were there,
And so, the underpasses. They didn’t exactly flourish, but the little underground league did well enough for itself. People and Pokémon of all stripes gathered here, from kids too young to start their battle break, to older timers, barely able to stand without support. Retired battlers, and home companions in need of exercise. Techne city natives, and folks from regions so far-flung no one but their residents had ever heard of them. Native species, and companions from the furthest corners of the world. Men, women, conjoined minds, and everyone in between. And at the top of them all stood seven ‘Underleaders’ and their teams.
The term was a portmanteau of the foreign ‘gym leader’ and the underpasses under which traditional battles still took place here in Ferrum, and it had a historical significance in Techne that was both poorly understood by most, and impossible to unpack for those in the know.
Gill was one of those underleaders, and currently, he was holding court over his domain.
It sounded like a big deal. ‘Underleader.’ It was an ominous title, one that sounded vaguely sinister, at least to Gill’s sensibilities. Like the boss of some sort of crime syndicate, or the second-in-command of an evil overlord.
Reality, as was often the case, was much more banal than fiction.
“That was clearly against the rules!” Katya proclaimed, hands on hips, her voice muffled by the gleaming ceramic mask of a snarling Glameow perched on her face.
The aging woman’s Purugly nodded with a smug expression on his face as his trainer defended him, his whole body jiggling with the reverberations of the movement.
It was easy to dismiss the fat cat, but Gill knew that the bulbous creature was hiding far more muscle on his frame than one might expect from a housecat.
Of course, his opponent was no slouch herself. Across the arena from him, the Cursola he’d just been battling wriggled in a way that Gill found vaguely alarming in a primal way. Her spectral fronds quivered with agitation, as if they might go flying off her body at any moment.
“The rules don’t say anything about using Spite and Disable to lock your opponent’s moves out!” The creepy ghost’s partner asserted. The youth had their arms crossed, and a stubborn expression on their face that Gill could barely make out underneath the full-face balaclava they were wearing. The trainer with the moniker ‘Ghostkid’ had been the source of more than one rules change to the ‘underleague’s’ unofficial battling format, and it seemed like they might shortly be the source of another.
“Ghostkid, while I understand that your strategy has legs, you need to be able to back it up with a follow-up game plan. While depriving your opponent of options is fine, just waiting for them to run out of moves is not,” Gill tried to reason, but the teen’s stance remained stubborn.
“We had a plan,” they asserted. “We could have won, if these two had just done something! I know they have other moves they could use.”
“Hah!” the old lady snorted, her grumpy Purugly copying the disdainful expression. “This twerp just wanted poor Sal to knock himself out on that blasted Cursola’s Perish Body!”
Gill saw Ghostkid rock back, as Katya’s eyes flashed craftily from underneath her ceramic mask. “Thought you could pull one over on the old lady, didn’t you? You’ll have to wake up earlier than that to fool ol’ Katya, kid.”
The youth audibly grit their teeth, brow seemingly furrowed as their strategy was exposed. “If you knew, why didn’t you just get it over with? You didn’t have any other options,” Ghostkid accused.
In response, the old woman just snorted again. “And neither did you. Your little spirit doesn’t have any attacks to hit Normal-types, does it? Other than Ancient Power, which you ran out of.”
Ah, that’s how this impasse came up. Both trainers still had moves left, but utilizing them would put them into a losing position. Cursola would run out of energy making useless attacks and struggle out, and Purugly would just faint himself attacking the Ghost-type with any of his remaining moves.
Except… “Wait, doesn’t Cursola’s ability knock out both the attacker and the attacked?” Gill asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “That would just cause a draw.”
Suddenly, neither trainer wanted to look at the Underleader. Dawning realization brough ire unavoidably to his expression. “Wait, this whole time, thirty whole minutes you’ve spent fighting like Seviper and Zangoose, all of it’s been over a battle that neither of you could actually win?!”
“It’s unsportsmanlike, is what it is!” Katya blustered. “Against the spirit of the rules, if not the letter of ‘em.”
“It’s a perfectly valid strategy to force a draw when you have to!” Ghostkid retorted.
“I don’t care!” Gill roared out, his voice silencing the two trainers. They both hunched slightly probably wincing under their masks. Ghostkid rubbed at their ears under the balaclava, and Katya went to fiddle with one of her hearing aids. “There certainly wasn’t any need to waste everyone’s time for the last half hour if this was going to be a draw no matter what.” The Underleader pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to forestall the headache he could feel building between his temples. “Fine. Whatever. Ruling is we call it even and mark things as a draw. I’ll hash out some specific rulings with the other underleaders at our next bi-weekly. Understood?”
There was some grumbling, which made sense. The mark of a good compromise is that no one is happy with it, after all. In the end however, both battlers had to accept Gill’s ruling. That’s what it meant to be the boss.
His position had weight. An Underleader wasn’t just the best battler in a given part of the city, though they usually were that. They were a figure people respected. Someone everybody knew was devoted to traditional battles, and to keeping those battles alive in Ferrum. Someone who had the resolution to fight against the social and political tides that would rather see these ‘barbaric’ contests stamped out entirely.
Gill loved it, he really did. He just wished it was a bit less stressful sometimes.
-
Part of the ‘technically-not-illegal’ nature of back-alley-battles meant that they had to be very, very careful with how they managed their little league. They couldn’t charge participants any fees for entry, nor could they allow any betting. They weren’t allowed to have a referee, since that would make it an ‘official’ battle, and recording wins and losses on any sort of platform connected to the FerreNet was prohibited. They couldn’t carry insurance to cover liability, and there wasn’t any simple method to guarantee timely access to medical attention in an emergency.
None of these restrictions were crippling, intentionally so, but they were damned inconvenient. They also placed an inordinate level of responsibility for running the underpasses on each respective Underleader, both financial and personal.
That responsibility weighed on Gill. It made his days longer, and his nights stressful. He had to worry about so many things. Money. The law. Keeping battlers safe. Keeping his team happy.
These concerns made it paramount that he put his all into every part of his job as underpass nine’s Underleader.
They also made certain people rather… tiring to deal with.
Donna was necessary evil. Well, not evil. Nothing about the woman could be ascribed to cruelty, or malice. Really, there wasn’t an evil bone in the ranger’s body, as far as Gill could tell
Just 206 annoying ones.
But the underpass needed her. She was an avid battler, and more importantly, their primary contact with Techne’s ranger corps. The ranger corps that provided a solid third of the Pokémon battling in the underpasses.
At least the relationship was a symbiotic one. The rangers needed people able and willing to take care of displaced and rescued Pokémon. The participants in the underpass league needed additional partners to have full three-on-three battles. Really, it just made sense.
Of course, most ranger rescues were destined for other homes. The majority were simply returned to the wild.
That didn’t work for everyone, however. Some Pokémon couldn’t reacclimate, others were invasive, and couldn’t be released back into Ferrum’s ecosystem. Still more might make the choice to live amongst humans for their own reasons, unwilling to go it alone.
Of those who chose to stay amongst people, a large majority ended up under the care of dojos and gyms, learning from skilled masters what they needed to partner with some hopeful child. These pairings would usually be for life, the relationship between battle trainer and partner ironclad and eternal (or so society would argue).
But some Pokémon weren’t cut out for life in a dojo. Maybe they didn’t have the discipline or temperament to be a battle Pokémon. Maybe they didn’t have the drive and ambition to pursue greatness as was expected.
Maybe they were a Normal-type, or a multi-mon.
Whatever the reason, some rescues fell through the cracks, unwilling or unable to return to the wilds, but unwelcome at Techne’s dojos and gyms.
That was okay. There were plenty of places for Pokémon in Techne’s society. Jobs and even careers that only the miraculous creatures could specialize in. Fighting-types dominated the construction industries. Flying-types had a stranglehold on local mail operations. Grass-types handled most of the city’s horticulture and gardening. Even Normal-types had a place, often acting as companions for the young or aging.
It wasn’t strictly necessary to have a partner to find your place amongst the people and Pokémon of Ferrum’s second largest urban center.
But it sure did make it easier when trying to navigate the thorny path to citizenship. Having a human steward simplified the arcane process immensely, turning a decade-long slog into an ordeal that might take only a couple of years. And, it was necessary if you wanted to battle.
And by and large, Pokémon did want to battle. It was in their very nature, and some saw depriving them of it was a special kind of cruelty.
So most rescued Pokémon wanted a trainer. Someone to help them participate in battles, and to help them navigate the complex nature of human-Pokémon society.
Good thing most of the underpass league’s participants needed additional partners to work with as well.
Hence, Donna. She’d been their main intermediary with the ranger corps for almost half a decade now. The woman, obnoxious at times though she could be, was an impressive battler, easily skilled enough to vie for a position as Underleader at most of the underpasses.
She’d introduced hundreds of Pokémon to the underleague’s little ecosystem in those give years, most recently dozens of Wiglett pried from Techne’s beaches. The little garden eels were becoming an increasingly common battler in the local circuit, as had happened to Magnemite before them, after the pests had gotten imported from Kanto, and to Glameow before that, when wild populations of the surprisingly vicious predator had started booming within Techne’s city-limits.
In that same time period, however, the green-haired ranger had yet to introduce a single human battler to the circuit.
Until today that was.
Which was why Gill wasn’t sure what to make of the tanned teenager uncomfortably shrugging her gregarious coworker’s hand off of her shoulder.
Artie. An odd pseudonym. Possibly a shortened real name? Or maybe something else. It sounded Galarian, so maybe the girl was a naturalized foreigner?.
That wasn’t the only strange detail. She was young. Remarkably so. Far younger than most battlers in the underleague. No more than fourteen, if Gill had to guess, but probably younger. And yet she had three Poké Balls on her belt, a full roster already.
That wasn’t the only odd accessory. Her arms were wrapped in soft bandages, of the kind that were used to treat bruises, and she was wearing the sort of medical mask you usually only see in hospitals.
And yet for all of that, her accompaniment was odder still.
The six little spheres toddling after her were a Pokémon that Gill was unfamiliar with, something that happened only rarely these days, and they were difficult to read. They looked like Bug-types, sort of, with their obviously conjoined mentality and shell-like carapaces, but they way they moved and the energy they radiated screamed Fighting.
At least they gave some insight about why the girl was looking to join the underpass league, as opposed to the traditional Ferrum circuit.
Because there was no way these little spheres could be kept from the battlefield, judging by the way their probably-leader stared at the ongoing bouts.
There was business to take care of before they could jump into the fray, however. The green-haired Ranger had introduced Artie as a coworker, a Ranger trainee, which was reassuring. Janine Egao ran a tight ship, as far as Gill knew, so anyone working under her got an indirect-endorsement; but that didn’t mean he could skip his due-diligence.
A recommendation got you in the door, but nobody fought in Techne’s underleague without an interview.
“So what brings you to the underpass.” The pair were standing at the edge of a battlefield, watching an ongoing fight between two of the underleague’s more senior members. Normally, Gill would have brought the girl to his impromptu office, but he couldn’t find it in himself to tear her partners away from the spectacle, which they were watching with rapt attention.
The six little balls were enthralled by the ongoing exchange of moves flashing behind a glittering psychic shield. The Indeedee’s barrier deadened the sound of the competitors a bit, enough that Gill could talk to Artie while the girl’s partners observed the ongoing match.”
It wasn’t like he had all that many questions to ask anyway.
“My knights and I love battling,” Artie nodded down at the excited Falinks. “But we can’t do Ferrum battles, since I have synergy sickness, and my knights are a multi-mon. We could challenge wild Pokémon, but it’s just not the same as competing against other trainers,” she explained.
“Do you have experience against other trainers?” Gill asked with a raised eyebrow.
She nodded, “A little bit.” The girl didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t inquire further.
He wanted to, it was unusual at her age, but that wasn’t one of the questions he had to ask. “How many partners do you currently have that want to participate?”
That question bought a few moments of silence, as the girl’s face took on a pensive cast. “Just one “ she eventually replied. One of the balls on her belt immediately began rattling, and the teen put a steadying hand on it. “For now,” she clarified. “Mana still needs a little bit of training, and the others are… new. We’re still working things out.”
That seemed a bit odd, but again, it wasn’t his place to pry. “And how long have you been training together with the Pokémon who are going to participate?”
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“Since the end of last year so-” the girl did some mental tallying. “Just over six months, now.”
Gill nodded, mentally noting it down. “Okay, last question. Do you want to participate in the circuit?”
“Circuit?” Artie asked, confusion clear in her tone. “What circuit?”
Her question got a grin out of Gill. This was his favorite part. “Do you know what a ‘gym challenge is?”
Surprisingly, the girl nodded again. Maybe she really was a foreigner? Or perhaps she had some friends who were immigrants? Either way, her knowledge cut into his explanation a bit, which was a bummer, but it did save them some time. “Well here in Techne, we’ve built ourselves an underpass challenge. Each of us underleaders have our main team of three, and then a side team who train at a very specific level. If you want, you can go around the city, and challenge each of our side teams for a badge, as a way of showing off your skill level.”
The girl seemed a bit nonplussed. “Huh. And this is just going on, underneath everyone’s noses?”
Gill snorted. “Most people don’t care to look,” he said by way of answer. “And it’s not like we have many participants. Only a few hundred throughout the entire city.”
Artie nodded, accepting his explanation. “And does winning against all seven of you earn a place in some kind of tournament?” She asked wryly.
“Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to organize tournaments.” Gill informed the girl, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “There used to be but— well, it’s been a long time.”
The teen reciprocated his earlier restraint as she held off on any further questions. “I think we’re definitely interested in this circuit, right guys?” Frantic nodding from the Falinks. “How do we sign up?”
The underleader chuckled. “You just did. We’re not big on paperwork around here, if you haven’t already guessed from the masks and the pseudonyms.”
“Yeah, I was really confused when Do- sorry, Steelica told me to wear something that covers my face,” Artie indicated the medical mask she was wearing. “I’ll make sure to bring something more appropriate next time.”
Gill shrugged. “It’s mostly a cultural thing. The masks aren’t strictly necessary, but they’re a holdover from when this used to be more-” the underleader paused for a moment, trying to find the proper phrasing. “Frowned upon,” he finally settled on. “Same thing with the fake names. It’s not like anyone would actually get in trouble for having their real names associated with the league, but that wasn’t always true.” Even in Gill’s own memory.
“Good thing.” the girl said. “Because I think I might have the only Falinks in Ferrum.” She nodded down at her partners, who took a second to preen under the attention before their focus fell back to the battle they were watching.
Gill filed the odd little Pokémon’s name away. “So, that’s all of my questions, which means there’s just one more thing to do.”
The girl's eyes crinkled. “Let me guess. A battle?”
Gill knew the girl couldn’t see his grin behind the bandana he wore over his mouth, but he couldn’t keep the expression off his face. He did love this, after all. “Good guess.”
-
As he squared off with Artie, Gill’s hands twitched over the balls on his belt. For a simple interview, he really should just send out Igni. The little Darumaka was his weakest Pokémon in a straight-up fight, and wouldn’t be getting any stronger due to a congenital defect. He still loved battling though, and was experienced enough that he was Gill’s go-to choice for interviewing new battlers.
Normally, he’d have already put the spunky Fire-type out on the field. Except, Donna hand snagged him on his way to the arena. “Give her a challenge, would you?” She’d whispered, her voice barely audible through her steel mask, the mad grin adorning the garish object surely matching its wearer's expression. “Don’t underestimate her, just because she’s young.”
Gill’s eyes snapped up, to the teenager staring at him from across the field. Her own partners had already taken to the arena, as the Indeedee’s barrier went up around them. His gaze flickered over to Donna, and he could just picture her infuriating smirk behind her polished metal mask. Artie had released her other two partners, a three-member Maushold and a fish he didn’t recognize, and had left them in the older ranger’s care so they could spectate. The little Pokémons’ eyes bored into him, their expression’s unreadable.
He looked back to the girl, and his fingers closed around a different Poké Ball. “You know Artie, normally, an interview is a simple one-on-one.” He called out across the field. “But since you’re joining the circuit, why don’t we make this more interesting? I handle challengers for the underleague’s first badge, and I’ll let you make a run for it here and now. You just need to beat three of my Pokémon. How’s that sound?”
The spectators oohed and ahhed appropriately. It wasn’t unheard of to transition an interview battle into a badge fight, especially if the inductee was particularly experienced. Artie was visibly young, however, and the offer sent a susurration through the assembled trainers. More and more filtered in to watch the fight, as word spread than an interview had the potential to develop into a battle proper.
Really, a badge battle would be blatantly unfair. Basically a trap. He had three Pokémon to her one, all of which were unknown to her. Not to mention, he hadn’t told her the criteria for joining the league. Some participants thought they had to win their interview battle to get in. It was a misconception Gill never bothered clearing ahead of time. It was the sort of offer that made most new trainers freeze up.
Artie clearly wasn’t most trainers, because she didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Sound’s amazing!” the girl shouted, her voice reverberating between the psychic walls. “Knights, you onboard?” Her partners bounced up and down in a display that I could only chalk up to excitement and which she took as acceptance. “Alright Underleader Tran, we’re in!”
Gill felt that persistent grin tugging at his features again. “Good answer! Par, get out there! We’ve got a challenger!” He hurled one of his partner’s balls onto the field, and it clattered open with a snap. Bright light flowed out of the split sphere, coalescing into a humanoid form. Long, yellow arms beat against a red-furred chest, as a swirl of curly, red fluff ignited with blazing determination.
“Pan, Pans!” Parbroil the Pansear roared his challenge across the battlefield, agitating the little Falinks. They shouted their challenge back, as one of the spectators counted them in.
“Three, two, one, begin!”
“Hammerlocke Game!” the girl shouted immediately, stirring her partners into motion.
Gill felt his eyebrows furrow. Coded commands? And ones that her partners followed instantly. This girl meant business. “Ignite!” Gill called out the order, his eyes remaining fixed on the strange spheres. He knew he could count on Par to follow the order faithfully, and sure enough the little Fire-type immediately began with a Work Up.
Unfortunately, their opponent’s weren’t going to give them time to set up. Rather than charging across the field, or doing their own set-up, Artie’s Pokémon did something truly strange. Two of them picked up the biggest one, presumably their leader, and hurled him at Par, sending the little sphere careening through the air, horn glowing.
“Par, evasive!” Gill called out, instructing his partner to abandon the power-up. The field was wide enough that the little simian had time to get out of the way, diving to the side to avoid the flying sphere. He came out in a roll, facing the threat that had just encroached on his space, but the strange little Pokémon didn’t do anything to follow-up, insead just staring menacingly at Par.
A sneaking suspicion had Gill’s eyes dragged over to the other five little balls, which were all glowing with suspicious orange light as the littlest one in the back shouted something. “The big one’s a distraction Par, the others are boosting up!” he called out, more than a little alarmed. These were some advanced tactics from someone who’d only been training with their Pokémon for six months. “Hit ‘em with an Incinerate!”
Sure enough, Par blasted the boosting group with a stream of orange flame, trying to interrupt their setup. Unfortunately, the distraction gave the bigger one an opening. Without any command from Artie, the biggest Falinks charged Par, slamming into him from the side and disrupting his stream of flames. Worse, as the flow of fire cut off, Gill could make out the shimmering barrier from a Protect, generated by two of the little spheres.
Par mostly shrugged off the blow, but as he rounded on the interloper, he was deprived of his chance to retaliate.
“Castle!” Artie shouted her second command of the fight, causing the biggest one to retreat out of Par’s reach. The little ball practically flew back towards his partners, moving as if some force was dragging him to the others. And even as he moved, another Falinks was getting hurled through the air at the Pansear.
Part of the underleader was impressed. It was rare to see multi-mon’s act so independently of one another, and with so little leadership from the trainer. Was it just a characteristic of this particular species? Or a specialty of Artie’s training?
Another part of him was just alarmed. The flying Falinks was one of the boosted ones, and already the leader and the two who had guarded the others were charging up as well. Unless they changed the pace of this battle, Artie’s partners would just boost up out of range and sweep through this whole squad.
“Savage them, Par!” Gill directed the Pansear, pointing at the flying sphere. “Take them down, one at a time!” The roaring Fire-type charged forwards, claws glowing. He met the Falinks head on, both of them going down in a tangle of limbs and shields. Clangs and crunches came from the battlefield as the two fell into melee, with Par quickly taking the upper hand, but before he could deal a substantial blow, two of the other boosted Falinks arrived to back up their comrade, charging across the field the old-fashioned way.
They didn’t have the leader’s magnetic speed in this case, but they hardly needed it, tied up as his partner was. Gill barely had time to shout a warning before Par was getting overwhelmed, surrounded on all fronts by buffed-up balls. “Par, Yawn!” Gill shouted, trying to get something out of the poor Fire-type before he was knocked out. A giant bubble formed at the edge of Par’s mouth, before popping off, and flying towards one of the sphere’s assailing him. It rammed into the Falinks, who immediately began to look drowsy, but the other two took the opening to give the poor Pansear an absolute beating, laying into him with glowing shields and determined fervor.
The Fire-type tried to give as good as he got, but by the time the other three arrived, it was essentially already over.
“Pansear is unable to battle. Underleader Tran, release your next Pokémon!” One of the spectators shouted from outside the barrier.
Gill recalled his unconscious partner, a frown on his face as he eyed the battlefield. One ball had rocked onto its back, clearly asleep, but the other five were still up and clearly raring to go. They barely seemed damaged from the few good blows Par had gotten in.
“Igni, best you’ve got,” he commanded as he released his next Pokémon.” With an excited cry, the little Darumaka took to the field, waving the little nubs where his hands should be with clear enthusiasm.
The girl across from him blinked a couple of times. “Um, shouldn’t a Darumaka have fingers?” she asked, confusion writ on her features.
“Congenital defect,” Gill replied, “but don’t underestimate him. Igni here burns with the best of them.”
Artie shrugged, “My knights would argue that fingers are overrated anyway, wouldn’t you guys?”
Her question was met with cheers and whoops from the little balls, who showed off their gleaming shields and distinct lack of digits.
“They’re in good company then! Igni, show them what you can do!” Gill ordered.
His littlest partner swelled up, entire body expanding as he sucked in air. Darumaka were generally physical fighters, using the heat suffusing their body to power their muscles as they threw themselves into the fray. Igni’s lack of hands made it tough for him to scrap in close range, so he had to specialize in other ways.
“Scatter!” Artie shouted another command, voice tinged in alarm. Not a moment too soon, her partners threw themselves in various directions, seemingly at random, as Igni’s Incinerate tore out of his throat.
In truth, the Darumaka’s attack was closer to a Flamethrower, but it still technically had the energy profile of Incinerate. Against most first-badge challengers, Gill had Igni stick with his weaker physical moves, but something about Artie made him want to see just what she and her partners could do.
The sleeping Falinks was met with a rude awakening as flames washed over it, and two of the others were singed, but already the scattered Pokémon were regrouping for an attack. Couldn’t have that. “Igni, Flame Wall!”
The adapted Fire Spin went up, a swirling maelstrom of fire that was far more intimidating than it actually was dangerous. There wasn’t a ton of energy in the move, but it sure was scary, and represented a threatening obstacle for most trainers and Pokémon.
Not these seven though. “Punch through!” Artie ordered, and her partners didn’t hesitate, charging through the flames with reckless abandon. The sticky fire swirled around them, and would continue to do so while Igni was on the field, but judging by the tempo of their charge, neither Artie nor her Falinks wanted that to be for very long.
With a tremendous crash, the line of battle balls slammed into Igni, successive Headbutts sending him sprawling. Igni didn’t have much gas in the tank, and now that they were in close, the Falinks would surely overwhelm him just like they had Par. That didn’t mean he couldn’t set things up for Gill’s final partner, however. “Igni, call the sun!” Gill shouted as the Falinks assaulted the little Fire-type.
The Darumaka weathered the blows, breathing a quick gout of fire that got his assailants to back off. In the opening, he swelled up again, taking a massive, gasping breath, and then glowing with inner flame as the hearth in his body stoked the inhaled oxygen. It compacted in him, as his spherical body shrunk back down, glowing brighter and brighter.
Any attempts to attack him were forestalled by the sheer volume of luminescence coming from his diminutive body. It forced everyone to squint, and peer at him through mostly-lidded eyes.
Then, he opened his mouth, and the light of the sun poured forth, shooting out of his open jaws in scathing beams of illumination. A massive ball of roiling fire, so bright it hurt to look at, arose from his gaping maw, slowly ascending up into the air. The artificial sun hung in the sky above the battlefield as Igni greedily sucked in gasping breaths, trying to recover from his exertion. The burning light was harsh, immediately raising the temperature inside the barricade by almost five degrees. With a grin, Gill recalled his gassed partner. Igni could set the sun with the best of them, and while it exhausted him, even Merrick, the Torkoal on his main team, had to respect the little Darumaka’s Sunny Day.
“Underleader Tran has forfeited his Darumaka. Underleader, please send out your last Pokémon!” The same spectator shouted, voice muffled through the Indeedee’s barrier.
“I’m impressed Artie, you and your Falinks have got some spunk. Don’t falter now, okay?” Gill commended the girl as he released the last Pokémon from his side team. With a flash, Volc took to the battlefield, the Carkol’s perpetual grin gleaming underneath the flaming sun above.
“Rush them!”
“Kalosian Defense!”
The two of them shouted their orders at the same time.
Gill watched from his side of the field as the burning sparks erupting from Volc’s stack ignited, shrouding the Carkol’s body in orange flame. With a roar reminiscent of the trains that plowed across the tracks above, Volc hurtled forwards, gaining speed as his legs rolled through the arena, accelerating past his normal limits by grace of the Flame Charge he was using.
With a terrific crash, the Fire-type slammed into the Falinks formation, stopped only by a glimmering barricade as three of them stood in front of the others, visibly straining to keep him back. Volc disengaged with a clatter like an avalanche of rocks, snorting flaming fumes as he rolled around, building up speed for another pass.
The three front Falinks fell back, going behind the others who replaced them in the line. Again, with a terrific crash, Volc rammed into them. Again, he was repelled, though this time, Gill could make out signs of their shield visibly cracking.
Cycling which of her partners were using Protect was a smart way to buy time, wearing out the sun above, but this wasn’t a winning proposition for Artie. Volc was only going to get faster, and her Pokémon were using way more energy protecting themselves than Gill’s was plowing into them.
The girl realized they weren’t going to win this way after the third pass. “Knights, Scatter formation, then Rock Smash the ground!” She shouted, her voice was barely audible over the roar of Volc’s flames
In spite of the distractions of the battlefield, her partners still heard her, and immediately went to work. They dove in various directions and immediately began smashing their shields into the hard-packed dirt beneath the underpass.
The strategy was clear. Churn the ground and disrupt Volc’s ability to roll freely across the battlefield.
Unfortunately for them, after the third Flame Charge, Volc’s speed was blistering. The heat coming off of him was comparable to the Sunny Day spluttering in the air above him, and he was practically a blur as he tore around the battlefield.
This time, it was the little Falinks who were overwhelmed, clearly unable to keep up with Volc’s speed as he thundered around the arena. They struggled valiantly, smashing into the ground with reckless abandon as the larger Fire-type flew by them, sending each of them sprawling in turn, but they hardly made any progress denting the tough floor of the arena.
With a frustrated glare, Artie gave up on the strategy. “Pical Variation! She called out another command, making the Falinks huddle together. They started their Protect rally again, barely able to get the barriers up in time to cover against Volc’s onslaught.
Except, on the second go-around, Gill noticed something odd. The biggest one went twice, substituting in the follow-up for one of the littler ones. He narrowed his eyes, looking for the hidden Falinks, finally spotting it after a few moments standing near its trainer, listening to her whispered orders with rapt attention.
With a tremendous crash, Volc finally shattered one of the Protects, sending the formation sprawling as he barreled through them, and while they were able to regroup, they definitely looked worse for wear.
It might pay to be prudent here, after Artie had so sneakily given instructions to her partners, but the Sunny Day was going to fade away soon, and they’d lose their power boost. “Keep it up Volc, you’ve almost got them!”
Besides, at the end of the day, this was a challenge, not a true, all-out battle. If the girl could find a way around their current strategy, Gill wanted to see it.
At first, he was disappointed. Volc rammed into the formation again, though this time they didn’t go flying around. Instead, all six of them glowed with energy, barely hanging on with what looked like a use of Endure. “They’re on their last legs Volc! Finish it!”
But unlike before, the Fire-type found himself unable to make a clean getaway. When Volc rolled backwards, one of his wheels sunk into the ground, sputtering futilely and digging itself further into the pitch below. Gill hadn’t noticed it amongst the battle, but somehow, the little Falinks had positioned themselves right in front of the biggest patch of churned earth they’d been able to make.
The battle balls glowed with orange energy, charging themselves up, before barreling forwards at speed. “Volc, Incinerate! Blast them!” Gill shouted, as his eyes clocked the move they were using.
The Carkol sucked in, before projecting out a blast of fire. The inner heat suffusing his stack dimmed as his gout of flames flew forwards, but one of the running Falinks threw itself in the way of the attack, blocking it for the others and buying time for them to scatter around the beam.
Five Falinks slammed into the Fire-type, and Gill had to suppress a wince as the supereffective Reversal from a Pokémon barely holding on due to Endure sent Volc sprawling. The Fire-type crashed to his side, and let loose a keening cry of distress. The noise was a reflex, a way for a Carkol to call out to its fellows for help, since they had a hard time righting themselves on their own.
Volc was no wild Pokémon, however. “Don’t panic!” Gill ordered. “We’ve trained for this! Kip up!”
Struggling mightily, sparks erupting off his stack, Volc tried to get an earthen spire up underneath him. With enough time and effort, he’d be able to use the erupting stone to right himself.
Time his opponents weren’t inclined to give him.
Two more the Falinks were down, suffering burns from Volc’s Flame Body, The other three plowed into the struggling Fire-type with a second Reversal.
That hit was enough. With a crunch, the rocks he’d been building up collapsed under the Fire-type’s weight, and Volc stopped struggling.
Another Falinks succumbed to burns, leaving two left standing, but that was more than enough to declare a victor.
For a few moments, the battlefield was silent, and then one of the spectators shouted, “Underleader Tran is out of usable Pokémon. Victory goes to the challenger, Artie!”
Cheers rang up from the audience as Gill ruefully recalled his partner. The floating sun above fizzled away, along with Indeedee’s barrier, letting the exuberant sounds of the crowd reach them unfiltered.
Artie ran onto the battlefield, scooping up her partners in a celebratory pile. Her other Pokémon joined her after a few moments, the fish sluggishly swimming through the air and the Maushold approaching slowly.
No sooner had they arrived than they were swept up to, forced to join the celebrations.
Gill let it play out for a few moments while he whispered thanks and encouragement to his unconscious partners.
Eventually though, he had to break up the moment. Gill slipped one of the small, metal pins from his jacket pocket into a closed fist and walked over to the girl. Artie straightened as he approached, one of the Falinks lifted up in her arms, peering at him with what he thought was a mix of excitement and nerves.
“Artie, congratulations on a battle well-fought. You’ve more than earned this,” he held out a hand, and then opened his fingers, revealing the gleaming object held within. “This is a Tar badge, and it's proof you’ve beaten me and mine in a fair battle.” The novelty object was fashioned after a car's wheel, mostly black with red sparks coming off of it.
It was nothing like a real gym badge.
Gill had held the foreign objects before, one and all stamped and printed by the leagues that issued them. There was a certain presence to those badges, a gravity that the cheap imitations they commissioned here in Ferrum lacked.
Somehow, the gap felt appropriate.
It also didn’t seem to make much difference to Artie, who took the object reverently. Gill gave the more normal interview spiel as she showed off the badge to her team. “You’ve also passed the interview. I judge you and your partners worthy and sporting competitors. You’re free to come here to battle and train. Welcome, Artie, to the underleague.”
Another cheer rose up from spectators. People loved watching a new battler get inducted, especially one able to challenge an underleader during their interview battle. The girl was quickly mobbed by excited trainers, busy introducing themselves and their partners, all of them trying to angle for a chance to fight the newcomer.
The girl looked a bit overwhelmed, but her expression was bright, so Gill didn’t bother to try to rescue her from the scrum. He felt a tapping on his shoulder and peered around, only to find himself confronted with that grinning steel mein. “Thanks Tran. Kid needed a real battle.”
Contrary to her usual countenance, the green-haired ranger actually sounded tired. “No problem Steelica. She clearly deserved it.” They both stood silently for a few moments, watching the junior ranger fight off the mob. “Everything okay, over at the outpost?” he asked, quietly.
He almost hadn’t broached the topic, but the lack of animation from the woman was so uncharacteristic it had him spooked.
Donna offered a tired laugh. “Just a busy weekend. Feels like almost every day there’s some new crisis,” she demurred. “Plus, there was another murder by the harbor, and people are talking— You know how it is.” The woman gave a weak laugh. “We’ll be fine, things’ll slow down at some point.”
“Don’t overdo it. I know you guys are understaffed over there,” Gill admonished her.
That got another laugh. “The whole damn corps are understaffed, Tran. We’re not special.”
“Maybe not, but you are our main contact. This whole league would struggle to run without you all, so take care of yourselves.”
The green-haired ranger nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. Just how busy were they these days? “We’ll get it under control,” she reassured him. “You all just keep these places running, deal?”
Gill snorted, “We’d do that without you asking, but sure. Deal.”
And he meant it. Gill stared out at the celebrating trainers, and he knew that for as long as he drew breath, he’d fight to keep this place going. Fight for the people and Pokémon falling through the cracks. Fight to give them a place they could belong. No matter who tried to stop him.
