-The Dragon King-

  -Call to Arms: Ch 6-

  Mark needed to train, that was obvious, his team was like specs of dust against what he’d seen Cynthia’s garchomp do. But there was only so much that smashing up rocks in the wild can do on a short timeframe.

  So with his (potential) minions fucking off to make him some money, he decided to try out the more professional avenue of things.

  The Gyms in this world weren’t the only gyms after all, there were still normal boring workout gyms that catered to both Humans and Pokemon. So he wanted to see what they could do for him.

  Which, in his personal opinion, wasn’t a stupid idea.

  Except he had been lied to!

  “The website says, in big bold letters at the top of the page, that you are open every day of the week, from 7am to 9pm.”

  “And we’re really sorry about that, sir. Given all the ads we’ve run and the posts we made on social media, we assumed everyone knew.” The lady at the front desk bowed at him in embarrassment.

  “Figures that I pick the one day that this place is closed to swing by and visit.”

  “Oh stop being such a cry baby.” An older man, in a kendo uniform, jacked to hell with muscles, and with a Machamp trailing behind him, laughed at Mark. “You came here on the best day! It’s an honor to see something like this in person.”

  “I would have preferred to actually be able to use the equipment of your gym-dojo-training-thing and maybe spar with some other trainers, than to sit and listen to a lecture.”

  The owner of the place just shook his head in disagreement.

  “Gaining twenty pounds of muscles is worthless in a fight if you don’t know how to properly throw a punch.” He turned around to look at the center of the gym with a smirk. “I was worried she wouldn’t even be willing to consider the money I could offer to do this, but she said she’d do it for free!”

  A woman stood at the edge of a boxing ring, in the heart of the small dojo, with bright pink hair that caught the light from the LEDs above her as she gestured passionately, and completely captivated the attention of the several dozen onlookers gathered to hear her speak.

  Maylene had the same scrappy charm she did in the games, barefoot, with blue fingerless gloves and a bandage across her nose.

  Mark could recognize the gym leader from a mile away, although it took him a while to dredge up her name from his memories. Luckily he was helped out a lot by the massive standup cardboard sign behind her. It was styled in the shape of a bandaid, with a flaming pink fist streaking across it, and the words:

  !THE UNTOUCHABLE GIRL!

  !GYM LEADER MAYLENE!

  In bold on it.

  “And what do you think of that title?” A lady from a news agency asked, as she held her microphone forward, and her partner sat back with a large camera balancing on his shoulder.

  “I think it’s a bit over the top, but I wasn’t the one to give it to me, and I’ll stick with it until someone proves it wrong. Think of it like a challenge!” She pumped her arm, flexing her bicep for the small crowd. “The last three of Sinnoh’s annual MMA championships I’ve taken home the crown without any worse than a few bruises. If you start training here with all your heart you could face me in the ring and take both my title AND my crown!”

  The crowd “ohh”ed and “ahh”ed just like you would expect a generic, nondescript unimportant crowd of nameless background characters to do.

  The newswoman, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed.

  “And why exactly do you like fighting yourself when you have Pokemon to do it for you? Do you not trust your team? Some people think Humans fighting Humans is barbaric, what’s your opinion on that?” She pressed, fishing for a headline.

  “I enjoy fighting because it lets me forget about all the troubles of life. All the stress that weighs me down, all the problems I can’t solve, they all just melt away and let me feel alive and free. When your in the thick of it, it’s just you and your opponent, you have complete and total control of what happens in that situation, without having to worry about anyone else. Pokémon battling does the same thing, but that’s different. There’s a barrier between you and the fight. This-“

  She tapped the mat with her foot.

  “This is raw and primal in a way that I can’t fully explain. This is real.”

  The camera slowly spun as a quiet fell upon the dojo, capturing the crowd’s awed silence at her words.

  “Well that’s stupid.”

  Only for everyone’s attention to immediately pivot to Mark.

  Marcus hadn't even meant it as an objection or anything, it just slipped out of his mouth as a natural result of his brain chewing on the words being fed to it, and fundamentally not agreeing.

  “Excuse me, would you mind expanding on that?” The reporter swept to him immediately with a wolfish grin.

  “Uh, yeah, sure. It’s stupid because there’s nothing ‘real’ about that at all.” He pointed to the fighting ring. “That is a padded mat, with artificial ring out boundaries, with a referee who can call the match at any time, and who is there to enforce an entire encyclopedia worth of rules. There’s a time limit, and a point scoring system, and a bunch of other things I probably don’t even know about. It’s the exact opposite of ‘raw’ and ‘primal’. It’s a fucking show sport, not a real fight.”

  The crowd muttered and whispered to each other like unopinionated sheep who need other people to give them opinions.

  Maylene was not very impressed.

  “Regulations are there for safety, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.” She called out, crossing her arms and staring him down. “We put up barriers around Pokemon arenas to protect the crowd, and have a referee on standby to make sure the fights never go too far, but I’ve never seen someone say that those aren’t ‘real’ fights.”

  “Yeah, it’s a real fight between the Pokemon, because those are designed to not get in the way. The barriers are far away from the action, and the refs only say something if someone is about to actually get killed. And even then, it’s not a real fight between the trainers. If I actually wanted to take someone down, I would let my entire team out all at once and then rush them. Add in ambushes, equipment, outside help, and the real world is a completely different thing to the one at a time, rock paper scissors, chivalry jousting in tournaments.”

  Maylene’s eyes narrowed, but Mark didn’t stop.

  “You don’t recognise that, because you’ve never been in a real fight, kid. If I got up on that stage and tried to take you down, no stupid rules or referee, I could do it. Not because I’m better and hand to hand than you, but because you would have no fucking idea how to aproach a no holds barred brawl.”

  “Then do it.” Maylene called his bluff with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. “Put yourself on the line, and back up your talk.”

  Mark looked around at the crowd who had more or less hemmed him in on all sides while he wasn’t paying attention, the reporter lady who was practically frothing at the mouth as she waved at him to go up on stage, and the nearby door which looked oh so tempting but would be a clear admission of defeat.

  “Fuck it, why not. It’ll be a good example for the team.”

  Two flashes of light materialized Shelgon and Noibat, who quickly perched on top of the grounded Dragon’s shell.

  “You two, watch and learn. Unlike some wimpy ass trainers, I’m not a pansy push over. I chose you guys for the team, but you chose me to be your leader- and it was for a good fucking reason. Noibat, when I said that everyone pulls their weight here, I mean it, and I include myself.”

  The purple bat tilted her head, a bit confused, but Shelgon started bouncing ever so slightly on his paws. He looked excited.

  Mark gave a salute to his boys as he jogged backwards to the arena, and pulled himself up over the ropes onto the mat.

  On paper this would be an easy fight. Putting aside how much longer reach he had, this chick was maybe five feet tall on her tippy toes, while Mark was 6 foot and could possibly be up to triple her weight. She was thin, muscular, but thin and curvy. She was designed to be an appealing character.

  Mark meanwhile was built like a fucking brick- no curves or exaggerated ass, just a brick of dense bone and muscle that the military could lob at whatever annoyed them, along with countless other bricks to “solve problems.”

  Unfortunately things rarely went he way they should on paper, and he was dealing with someone who had won championships by her own merit.

  “Well I’ll be. I thought you’d chicken out.” Maylene said as she settled into a corner and started stretching. She was grinning now, and her face and tone were several shades less hostile now that he had set foot on the mat with her. “I’m still gonna knock your socks off for saying all that, but you have my respect.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts until you start hating my guts.” Mark followed her example and also did some basic stretches- although his were boring US army approved Rear/Forward Lunges, Bend&Reaches, Squat Benders, and a few classic Push-Ups rather than…

  Balancing on the palm of her hand, Maylene twisted so that her right leg came down over her back to touch the hand of her left arm. Then she swapped to balancing on her other hand and did the same with the opposite leg and arm.

  …Whatever anime bullshit the girl was doing

  “Right, we’re doing this my way. No ref interventions, no rules, the fight ends when someone tapps out or is knocked out. Gonna back out?”

  Maylene, still doin her handstand thing lowered her face to the mat, then pushed off with enough strength to spin herself in the air and land on her feet.

  She squared her shoulders as she faced down Mark, her stance was professional and flawless- head down, knees bent, weight balanced, hands up at a perfect height to both block shots at her head and jab out.

  “I’m always ready for a fight!”

  Mark just stood there, rolling his arms and cracking his knuckles. He smirked, his jagged scar twisting as his lips stretched.

  “Alright. You ready to dance, princess?”

  Maylene didn’t respond. She didn’t need to, her fists were already talking for her, after all.

  Her feet slid across the mat, closing the distance in a heartbeat. A flicker of motion, and her fist snapped out in a lightning fast jab aimed at his jaw. Mark’s eyes winded, caught off guard by her speed, and he jerked his head back, but he wasn't fast enough. The blow caught his chin, and he stumbled back.

  Maylene immediately backpedaled from the probing attack, letting Mark reach up to his lip and pull his hand away with a thin trickle of blood.

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  “Okay then…” He muttered, testing his bleeding lip with his tongue. “Let’s play ball.”

  “Don’t call me princess.” Maylene’s eyes narrowed, analyzing his stance, and she sprung forward in her first real attack, a spinning crescent kick, her leg arcing like a blade toward his temple.

  Mark didn’t even try to block. He ducked low, bull-rushing her mid-spin, slamming his shoulder into her ribs and knocking her back, Mark then took his chance to throw a wild haymaker.

  Even with her form broken for a few seconds, Maylene sidestepped effortlessly. Her elbow came down hard on his passing forearm, then she pivoted, driving a knee into his gut.

  Mark wheezed, doubling over, but his hand shot out, grabbing her leg before she could pull it back, and yanked hard, pulling her off her feet and throwing her to the ground. She hit the mat hard enough that if it had been regular ground she would be bruised come morning. Instinctively she rolled, angling to avoid a boot coming down on her head, and springing back to her feet in an instant.

  She glared at him. “That’s not how you fight.”

  “Yeah?” He spat blood onto the mat, grinning. “Well that’s how you lose.”

  He settled into a Combatives stance that his drill instructor had hammered into him, one that Maylene didn’t recognize, and settled on a plan.

  Get in close, get her in a grapple and take her to the ground, use his weight to hold her down so she couldn’t hit back, then beat the shit out of her.

  Now it wasn’t a very complicated plan, or a very elegant one, but it usually worked.

  Mark lowered his shoulder and waited for the exact moment when she looked like she was about to advance again, then exploded forward like a freight train, arms pumping as he rushed to close the gap.

  Maylene immediately reversed course, dancing out of his path with a blur of footwork, and ducked under an elbow to sweep a lowkick towards his legs.

  Her shin cracked against his thigh, causing the crowd to wince, but Mark didn’t stop and barely even flinched at the pain. Ironically it threw Maylene off balance more than him, since she had instinctively been moving to follow up on it, but instead had to block a powerful punch with her upper arm.

  “Gonna have to hit harder than that, princess!” Mark laughed as he used his raw strength to force her back.

  “I said not to call me that!”

  She met him head-on, exploding into a flury of blows resembling a Close Combat move, striking his chest, his shoulders, his ribs. Each hit landed like thunder, even the ones he caught on his guard,forcing grunts from his throat. But Mark kept coming. A jab slipped past his arm and split his lip. A hook bruised his cheek. He ate the pain like breakfast, his eyes wild, and swung a strong uppercut.

  She dodged, but was unprepared for the glob of bloody saliva he spat into her eyes, giving him an opening to grab the end of her shirt and slam his forehead into her nose.

  Maylene staggered back, blood streaming from her nostrils.

  “You-”

  But he was already on her, grabbing her hair and yanking her head down to meet his rising knee.

  She took the blow to her jaw, but managed to ride the impact to twist free and counter. Her palm struck his chin upward, snapping his head back. He stumbled, and she pressed the advantage with a flurry of Muay Thai strikes to his thighs, his sides, and his arms.

  She danced around him, dodging his followup with a pristine picture perfect form that contrasted with the blood streaming from her nose.

  Mark roared, swinging blindly, and his eyes ballooned as she jumped up. Up and up, clearing his strike, and continuing even still, until she was well over his head- peeking at almost seven feet in the air like some kind of anime bullshit.

  That, of course, was when Mark remembered it was anime bullshit, and he had just signed up to fight it.

  Maylene spun in the air, and the back of her foot came down like a guillotine, slamming down into Mark’s forehead and dropping him like a rock.

  Maylene landed on both feet, with the grace of a cat.

  Mark fell to the mat with a loud thump, completely unresponsive.

  One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then Three. Four.

  Five.

  Six.

  Seven.

  Eight.

  Nine.

  Ten.

  The crowd cheered.

  Maylene let out a satisfied sigh, and strutted back over to the edge of the ring- far too used to having official nurses nearby to automatically tend to opponents. She wiped the blood from her nose and flashed a smile.

  “Thank you! Thank you! But don’t just cheer for me, this guy actually put up a good fight! He got past my guard and got some solid hits in. He even did some things I wasn’t expecting and, you know what, he was kind of right. I have never been in a fight with someone willing to spit, grab my shirt, and play dirty.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck with a hand.

  “But I still won in the end, didn’t I? That just goes to show that even though something has safety precautions doesn’t mean it’s any less real than-”

  She was cut off as a meaty fist, half the size of her entire skull, slammed into her jaw with enough force to carry her off her feet.

  She fell through the air, spinning, and slammed her face down hard onto the metal pole at the corner of the arena with a crack.

  “Tip number fucking one in a combat situation. Double Tap! Confirm your kills.” Mark bellowed as he stomped towards her. His voice turned into a snarl as he popped his shoulder back into place. “You can train your ass off with the most advanced weaponry imaginable, but if you don’t do that, then it will kill you one day.”

  Maylene groaned as she forced herself to her feet. Blood poured down the entire left side of her face, and her nose had been crushed by the impact. Her vision was dancing, but she still managed to focus her sights on Mark.

  “Wha- You went down!”

  “Rules were to tap out or knock out! No coddling rulebook restrictions.” Mark grinned ferally, and with the blood matting his hair from the kick to his temple, he looked wild. “I’m still standing, aren’t I, princess?”

  “...not for long.” Maylene snarled as she blitzed him.

  This time, he feined a punch towards her face and then shot low, his Combatives training kicking in and screaming at him to get her to the mat now.

  Maylene read it like a book, swinging her hips back to curl around his grab like a cat, and driving a knee up toward his chin. It hit him, splitting his lip, but Mark powered through, and hurled her into the ropes. She bounced off, twisting midair like a cat, landing on her feet as he barreled after her.

  Maylene lunged and Mark aborted his attack to jump out of the way of a full force uppercut, but that left him completely exposed as a roundhouse kick caught him square in the jaw. He spun, crashing to his knees, one hand braced on the ground as blood dribbled from his mouth and stained the white mat.

  “Stay down.” She said, her voice angry but tinged with worry.

  Mark laughed, and pushed himself up. His face was a mess, swollen and bleeding, but his eyes burned.

  “Why- Why won’t you stay down!?”

  “Because you hit like a fucking girl!”

  He lunged, slower now, but relentless. His fist connected with her cheek, a brutal, ugly punch that broke past her guard and sent her reeling.

  She recovered fast, wiping her eyes, her stance tightening again. But Mark was still coming, favoring one arm but swinging like a bull regardless.

  She blocked his punch, countered with a palm strike to his chest. He staggered, gasping, but grabbed her wrist before she could pull back, and twisted it hard enough to make her cry out in pain.

  She broke his grip by slamming an elbow into his temple.

  He went down again, hard.

  And got back up.

  “Untouchable, huh?” He snarled. “Let’s see how long that moniker lasts after this because I’m not seeing any of it!”

  Maylene’s jaw clenched as she caught a full body slug with her forearms, the impact was enough to rattle her bones. She moved like lightning, feinted left, then drove a fist into his throat, followed by a knee to his chin.

  Mark crumpled, choking, blood pooling beneath him. She stepped back, breathing hard, watching.

  He twitched. He groaned. He planted a hand on the ground and started pushing up again.

  Maylene’s fists tightened. This wasn’t even a fight anymore. THis was something foreign to her, alien. It was like when writing all the details about fighting, all the tiny things she disliked had the pen held on them too long and they had grown into huge ugly creepy ink blots that swallowed everything else.

  She wasn’t enjoying this. There was nothing to enjoy! It was just a beat down! This made her gut chun and her stomach nauseous.

  Maylene’s composure began cracking, as she took a step away from him.

  “Why won’t you quit?” She snapped, circling him.

  He spat another gob of blood, swaying but upright. “Cause I’ve had worse from better.”

  He threw himself at her, no plan, just fury.

  Maylene jumped back, launching a flurry of blows to try to force him back, a shot to the jaw, a punch to the upper arm, but none of it stopped Mark from crashing into her and slamming her against the thick ropes at the edge of the ring.

  He grabbed her by the throat, pinned the back of her head against the ropes, reared back, and slugged her across the face hard enough to make her see stars.

  “Fucking!” Thud “Bitch!” Thud

  Mark got three hits in before his legs were swept out from under him, but he kept his grip and pulled her down with him.

  He got her to the mat and suddenly the game changed, he was bigger than her, three times her weight, and there was no space between them for any sort of advanced techniques.

  He pinned her underneath him and just started bludgeoning her.

  Mark’s fists hammered down like sledgehammers, each blow a sickening crunch against her cheekbones, her jaw, her temple. Her head snapped side to side, the mat becoming a slick pool of her blood, smearing under her as she thrashed.

  “TAP OUT PRINCESS!”

  His weight crushed her ribs, making every breath a fight.

  “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN STILL DOING THIS FOR? YOU ALREADY LOST YOUR WHOLE POINT!”

  A brutal punch split her eyebrow, blood gushing into her eye. She tasted copper, felt the grind of a loose tooth.

  “TAP OUT! YOU KNOW I WON’T!”

  Mark roared, his spit and sweat dripping onto her face. His knuckles, raw and bloody, reared back for another blow.

  The muscles in Maylene’s arms, pinned under his knees, burned with desperation. She bucked her hips, twisting just enough to free one hand.

  Her fingers clawed at the mat, then found his thigh. She dug in, nails tearing skin, and raked upward. Mark howled, faltering just enough for her to twist her head and dodge the next blow.

  Maylene seized the moment, driving her knee into his groin with every ounce of strength she had. His eyes bulged, a choked gasp escaping his mouth like air from a leaking pipe as he doubled over.

  She shoved him off, rolling free, her body screaming in pain, and blood dripping from her chin. She staggered to her feet, swaying, one eye swollen shut, the other burning with fury. Mark, clutching his side, lumbered back to his eet.

  “RAAAH!”

  Mark charged, his arms outstreched to grab her and drag her down again.

  Maylene took a breath to center herself, and waited still as he approached. Sh ducked under his arms, braced her legs, and rocketed upwards with an uppercut straight to his jaw that took Maylene off the ground and sent Mark airborne.

  Mark crashed to the mat hard, and Maylene was on him immediatly, pinning his throat under her foot, and waiting for even the slightest sign he would get back up.

  …

  …

  But Mark was still. Completely unconscious.

  …

  Maylene stumbled backwards, gasping for air as her senses rushed back to her. She grabbed onto the nearest thing to support herself, something that was stiff but yielded under her touch.

  She leaned against it for a few seconds to gather herself, then pushed herself back and looked at it.

  !THE UNTOUCHABLE GIRL!

  Words now stained in her own blood.

  Suddenly remembering where she was, Maylene turned back to the crowd to find them all staring at her in silent horror.

  “NOIBAT!”

  As Noibat swooped down to Mark, and Shelgon bulldozed a nurse that was rushing into the ring, Maylene looked down at herself. Beaten, bruised, battered, bloody. Then she looked back at the sign. Then she looked back at the crowd.

  …Then she ran for the door.

  -The Dragon King-

  Luck was never in Mark’s favor. It just wasn’t. Never had been, never would be.

  When he woke up in Eterna city’s Pokecenter, guess who he opened his eyes to.

  Go on. Guess.

  Was it Shelgon? Was it Hellena? Maybe even the Sunshine Squad?

  No.

  It was the exact same Nurse Joy that had treated him for “memory tampering” when he was dropped here, and then had to treat him again after his fight with Bagon.

  “You are one of the most accident prone individuals I have ever seen.” She said in a polite tone that was as forced as it could be. “You agreed to take better care of yourself the last time you were here. Typically people at least pretend to keep their promises.”

  “I’m the victim here, I’m the one that got beaten up. Why are you blaming me?”

  “You picked a fight with Sinnoh’s single best martial artist.” Joy said, pulling his bandage just a little too tight.

  “I- uh, okay fair. But I’m a fucking saint compared to Ash Ketchum.”

  “I’ll believe someone’s worse when I see it.” She said in a practiced cheery tone and a blinding smile that was the least genuine thing Mark had seen in years.

  “Oh, don't worry, one day you will, and you’ll look back on me like I was the best patient you’ve ever had.”

  Actually, that was a good question, now that he thought about it.

  When was Ash going to pop up in Sinnoh, anyway?

  Nurse Joy swatted his bandages with her thermometer.

  “Ow!”

  -End Chapter-