-The Dragon King-

  -Arc Start: Shock and Awe-

  -Shock and Awe: Ch 1-

  “That’s not a lot of money.”

  “It’s more money than the average good boy trainer, who only makes money off nonrenewable Gym rewards and battle bets, makes in three months.”

  “True, but also, you gave me a great deal on what I brought in last time.”

  “Last time you brought me rare merchandise that usually takes experienced crews, and equipment, to go after.” Mustermann said as he placed the 15 Shinx pokeballs into a briefcase, closed it, and handed it off to a Rocket grunt, who took it out of the room. “If you want more money, then the best solution is to bring better products.”

  Mark frowned, his mind going back to the absolute mess that his Teddiursa hunt had turned into.

  He wasn’t about to swear off the whole thing, or never go after big game again, just because his first attempt went tits up, but… it had gone pretty bad. He was a jerk, a brute, and not always the brightest, but he wasn’t so far up his own ass that he couldn’t admit that he had fucked up big time.

  He would just be more careful in the future, and not underestimate what he was hunting.

  Currently he was in Mustermann’s new Eterna city office (much less impressive than his previous one, since it was still being set up), and continuing down the path of his idea to sell Pokemon for money.

  He really just didn’t get all the stigma around selling Pokemon. Obviously stealing them from other people to sell was fucked up, but just selling ones that you caught? Ones you never even fought with or bonded with?

  Maybe it was because he had the experience of playing the Pokemon world as the games, where it was customary to trade away Pokemon with friends, the GTS, or wonder trade, and then shove dozens if not hundreds of mons in a PC to never see the light of day again.

  …Or maybe he was just an asshole. That could also be it.

  Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “It’s fine. Whatever. Money’s money. I’ll take it, I just won’t be able to skimm as much off the top as I would have liked to before paying the guys.” He said as he mentally did some math to recalculate his budgeting for the next few weeks.

  “Oh? Hiring grunt help already? Ambitious.”

  “Yeah, 15 of them.” Mark accepted the envelope packed with physical bills. “Although I plan to turn them into something a bit more useful than grunts.”

  “A word of caution then: the stronger you build someone else up, the easier it is for them to backstab you for a larger piece of the pie, and the more it will hurt when they do. The easiest way to prevent a coup is to centralize power in those you can trust to never turn it against you. The dumb, the loyal, the lazy, the ones too scared of you to step out of line. And send the ones hungry for more-” Mustermann guestered to himself. “Very far away.”

  “Everyone I have is hungry- that was the only qualification I wanted in them. I know how to deal with those people, people like me, and I know how to drag the best out of them.”

  “Then you better keep your den of wolves well fed.”

  “Trust me.” Mark grinned. “I intend to.”

  -The Dragon King-

  On the Eastern side of Eterna City was a popular sports bar, where people of all ages could gather to grab a bite to eat and watch the numerous massive HD televisions hanging on the walls- which were always streaming the largest tournaments in the world, or recordings of them if there wasn’t one happening at the moment.

  The place was clean and well maintained, the waitresses were pretty to the eyes, and there was a bar on the far end for adults to purchase any number of the various alcoholic beverages offered by the baristas.

  But what truly was special about this place, how you knew it was connected in some way to the type of people who ran the Veilstone gambling district, and what made it such a headache for the city’s Gym Leader, was what was built beneath the restaurant.

  Underneath was a private stadium, twice the size of the establishment above.

  In the middle, the arena sunk into the polished floor in a perfect circle, with two small platforms on the edge for trainers to stand on. The edges of the “battling pit” were lined with a fake golden trim that caught the overhead lighting and caused it to glow. The floor of the arena was made of polished blocks of reinforced concrete that had a mesh of steel bars running underneath them to hold it together better. The surface was scuffed and faintly scarred with the lingering traces of hundreds of fights that refused to go away, no matter how hard the cleaning staff scrubbed.

  A ring of audience stands surrounded the pit, with a good fifteen feet of distance for safety’s sake. A wall of heavy steel bars ran from the ceiling down to the top of the railings of the first row, for audience safety, with a layer of bulletproof glass behind it to catch any flames or water that licked through. (Having to pay for a trainer’s psychic types to wall off the arena with a barrier was so expensive.)

  The stands were alive as the guests settled in for the chaos. Drunken trainers shouted and argued over who they thouyght would win, and which matchup favored which side. Vendors hawked bootleg potions and pills of dubious origin from rolling food carts, while the smoke of cigarettes and cigars hung like a permanent fog. Women in provocative outfits prowled the stands flashing skin, taking both men and women to the bathroom stalls for a hunk of change.

  Security existed, and was actually rather prominent, with numerous intimidating guards with sunglasses, muscles, belts full of pokeballs, and batons on their hips. But they seemed perfectly content to let anything fly so long as no one was getting injured.

  At the very bottom rows, as close to the action as you could get, was the VIP seating. It was completely separated from the "common folk” by walls, and acted more like miniature booths that could be rented out. And they were snazzy, too

  Plush leather seats, velvet railings, a personal cocktail service, the whole shabang.

  The VIP seating also came with easy access to the betting booth, where you could put down large sums of money and potentially win BIG if the trainer you chose ranked well. There were a number of gamblers here that seemed more excited about the betting than the actual fights. They shouted odds and insults, exchanging fists full of cash over the counter and between themselves faster than the average Joe’s mind could keep up.

  This wasn’t the world of League-sanctioned gyms and televised championships.

  Technically, everything here was legal. The Pokémon were registered. The trainers had licenses. The thousands of dollars that people put down on the betting booth was conducted through third-party shells that were tied to something asinine, like egg prices, with all the proper tax documentation- since, you know, betting on someone else's battles was illegal.

  By legal definition this wasn’t even a tournament, it was just an arena that the owner rented out to trainers to have battles, and they had a policy of being generous to the winners that impressed them the most and could win consistently multiple times in a row.

  If the fights had a tendency to get a bit rougher than usual, and the only rules could be summed up as “dig is banned because it could destabilize the building” and “anything else goes as long as you don't kill the other trainer”, well that was fine.

  After all, legally, this wasn’t a tournament, it was a spot that was rented out to trainers- the owner had no obligation, and no right for that matter, to force rules on the trainers who wanted to fight their own battles.

  Untechnically, however…

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to this year's annual bloodbath! If you want to see an elimination bracket of some of the most brutal, raw, beat down and drag out fights in Etera city, then you’re in the right place!”

  Above the stands, was a steel-and-glass box that perched like a vulture on the wall of bars, and was built into the roof. This was the announcer’s box, and it was built to withstand low level Hyper Beams or the occasional thrown chair.

  “I’m your host for tonight, same as every year! Vin Scully, here with my co-announcer, and best friend, Maxwell. Say hi Maxwell.”

  “Mreow.” The Sprigatito in the seat next to him meowed into the microphone and poked his head up to look out the window, showing that its fur had been dyed black and white.

  “Now, like every year, I have to give a reminder. If you have any complaints or concerns, please direct it to our lawyers. If you go through any other channels, no matter how legal or illegal, you’ll wind up sitting down across from this fine establishment's lawyers eventually anyway, so just save yourself the time and go straight to them to begin with. If you have objections to this, again, please see our lawyers. Now with that out of the way let’s get into the action!”

  The crowd cheered, drowning out the speakers for a few moments.

  “Now to start us off today we have a man who’s been the talk of the town after what he did to Oreburgh’s Gym Leader. Ladies and gentleman, please give a warm welcome to Marcus Cross, THE BREAKER!”

  Mark raised an eyebrow at the name, but shrugged and strutted into the arena with all his natural bravado. He had a wide fanged grin on his face, and his cape (swooshing? waving? fluttering?) behind him.

  There was a splattering of light applause from the crowd, a few whoops from people eager to see a good fight, and a number of jeers from people who were presumably Oreburgh natives.

  Mark calmly handled it like an adult and de-escalated the situation by prominently flipping his middle finger in the direction of the jeers, causing them to grow louder but be drowned out by a round of laughter and cheers from the audience.

  “That’s the look of a winner right there! Oh, I’m excited to see what he brings to the table.”

  Mark snatched a ball off of his belt and hurled it into the area, letting Shelgon spring free and stretch his legs.

  “Already throwing out his ‘mon, without a shred of hesitation to let his opponent counter pick. There is no fear in this man! We have the same Shelgon that put Byron’s old Steelix into the ground, and out of the ring for good.”

  “Shell!” Shelgon proudly stomped his feet, eager for another fight, and a chance to show off.

  “But is this bravery, or blatant overconfidence? It’s up to his opponent to answer that for us. Everyone give a round of applause tooooo~ Youngster Jimmy!”

  On the other side of the room from Mark, a short kid ran out of the darkened entrance hallway with a wide grin on his face. He had brown hair, and was wearing a red shirt, a dark blue cap, shorts, and sneakers with white long socks. As opposed to Mark, there was almost no sound from the audience.

  “Bidoof, I choose you!”

  Youngster Jimmy reared back and threw a pokeball that exploded into the most average and generic looking Bidoof that was genetically possible.

  There was the sound of paper shuffling over the speakers.

  “Fresh on his journey, and eager to prove himself, this shorts loving trainer is itching for a good fight. He might be less experienced, but that’s no reason to count him out just yet! And really, is there any story more riveting than one of an underdog? Let’s get ready to rrrrrruuumble!”

  Vin leaned back in his seat, and angled the microphone away from his face.

  “Who was in charge of the roster? I thought the policy was two badges minimum? I get letting Cross in, but the kid? The paper says that this kid is fresh from trainer school, like, he graduated three days ago.”

  “Mrrr.”

  “Max, that kid’s gonna fucking die.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Mrrow.”

  “No Max, human blood won’t be good for the ratings.”

  THUNK

  Vin and Maxwell both jumped as something slammed into the announcer box window with enough force to rattle the reinforced metal holding the faux-glass in place.

  The Bidoof that had been down in the arena the last time that Vin had looked, was smeared flat across the window in a way akin to roadkill.

  “Bwee…” It let out a pathetic whimper as foam dipped from its mouth and its eyes spun in its head. Then it started sliding down the glass with a sound straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

  SQUEEEEEEEE-

  It was sliding down very slowly.

  -EEEEEEEEEEE-

  …very slowly.

  -EEEEEEEEEEE-

  Vin and Maxwell’s eyes wordlessly followed the poor rodent down the window.

  -EEEEEEEEEEEK~

  Until it finally came off with an audible pop* and fell down, tumbling through the air, before landing out of bounds below with a thud.

  Vin blinked a few times before clearing his throat and moving his microphone back into place.

  “Whadda knockout! Now that Take Down is how you introduce yourself to an audience!”

  Vin roared over the speakers as the crowd was torn between a mix of cheers and sympathetic winces.

  “Now what does Youngster Jimmy have in his back pocket to counter such a heavy hitting bruiser? Personally, after that, I would just tap out, and maybe Jimmy shou- no he’s reaching for another Pokeball. Maybe he has something with a solid type advantage to turn this around? A strong Ice type can shut down almost any Dragon. Is that a- I think it is, folks. A Starly! A normal, no type advantage, Starly. Going for the old ‘can’t hit what you can't reach’ huh? I can see no way that this goes horribly wrong.”

  “I-I believe in you Starly! I know that you’ll always do your best, a-and put your heart into everything you do! If we work together I know that our bond is strong enough to overcome any challenge!”

  Starly looked back over its shoulder with adoration in its eyes, and gave its trainer a nod. The two were in perfect sync.

  “Now! To the skies!”

  “Star!”

  The bird spread its wings and launched itself into the air at full speed at its trainer’s command.

  Starly got all the way up to the very impressive, oh I don’t know, maybe five feet vertically before being forcibly stopped.

  The bird squawked in shock as it looked down to find its leg trapped firmly in the mouth of Shelgon- who had not waited at all for little Jimmy’s inspiring speech to be over before running over, and currently had a look of vicious glee in his eyes.

  “STARLY!”

  Youngster Jimmy shouted as Shelgon slammed his beloved Pokemon into the ground and then began tearing into it.

  Youngster Jimmy should not have believed in Starly.

  -The Dragon King-

  Mark was laughing his ass off by the time he got back to his seat in the "competitor reserved” section of the stands, with a half empty beer.

  “Fuck dude, that was brutal. I kinda feel bad, but the way that Bidoof went flying was really funny! Haha!”

  Hellena didn't say anything to him as he sat down next to him, she just glared, but the bags under her eyes and how she was squinting took out any intimidation from it.

  “What? It was!”

  Glare*~

  “Don’t tell me you think I should be holding back? Purple, the owner is paying me to put on a show and be a bully.”

  Glare*~

  “What did I do? Are you upset I didn’t get you a beer, too? Speak your mind, woman.”

  Glare*~

  “Oh, don’t tell me you're still pissy that I signed you up as a competitor."

  Hellena clicked her tongue and looked away from him with a huff, grumbling under her breath.

  “Don’t be that way. The more people we have, the higher the chances that we snag some of the top level prizes.” He punched her lightly on the shoulder and then waved at his group of dumbasses that were his employees. “Plus I need you to help put the fresh blood in their place. It’ll be fun!”

  Hellena just hunched down further and still continued to not speak to him.

  She later started speaking to him again when he brought her a case of beer, some dorritoes, and they watched a ghost type trainer face off against a grass specialist.

  “Don't just shoot randomly!” She shrieked as the Budew on the floor lost the Gastly as it disappeared into the ground, and started spraying Bullet Seed in random spots trying to catch it when it came back up.

  “Use Vine Whip to augment Bind! The Grass energy will make the move hit and it’ll hold Ghastly so it can’t phase through the floor! No! Not Razor Leaf! You- augh!”

  Mark snorted at Hellena’s dismay. She was usually so reserved that seeing her worked up was refreshing.

  He would have thought that she would be cheering for the Ghost type though…

  A suspicion started to form in Mark’s head. Nothing concrete, not even a full idea, but there was a cluster of things he’d learned about her while traveling that all seemed related in a way he couldn’t quite pin.

  Hellena knew lots about flowers, she used to garden, but stopped at some point for some reason that she was touchy about, and now she was cheering on a Grass specialist over a Ghost specialist.

  “Hmm.” Mark watched her for a while more, before pushing the thought from his mind and knocking back the rest of his drink.

  Regardless. It was fun.

  -The Dragon King-

  Shelgon slammed into the injured Furfrou like a bowling ball and body blocked the red beam with his own shell.

  A small portion of the crowd audibly booed the show of poor sportsmanship, but their boos didn’t change the situation in the ring. (And they were mostly drowned out by the overwhelming amount of people cheering for such a brutal play as well.)

  “AND SHELGON BLOCKS THE RECALL! WHAT A PLAY! THIS IS WHAT WE’RE HERE FOR!”

  “Furfrou!” Bleck Hawson shouted as his doggo took a point blank Dragon Breath, and went down for the count. “That was a dirty move!” He scowled as he recalled his Pokemon.

  “Yeah well, in my very humble opinion, that sounds like a bunch of fucking loser talk from a guy whos pissed I’m kicking his ass!” Mark laughed and flipped the guy off.

  This was a bit of an odd matchup for Mark, and he’d been worried at first. This guy, Beck or whatever the announcer has said, was from a different region, and had a bunch of the dumb new gen Pokemon that Mark didn’t know anything about.

  Fortunately he didn’t seem too tough.

  “What a fight! That Shelgon is something else, he hits like a truck!”

  “Meow.”

  “You said it Maxwell, Bleck can’t play it safe here. He’s gotta match the tempo that Cross is setting. If you don’t respect the walking blunt force trauma that is Shelgon, then you’re just asking to get trampled. This is the time to play your big cards- if that means showing the competition what they’ll be up against next, and losing the surprise, then so be it.”

  Bleck grit his teeth as he thumbed the Pokeballs at his belt.

  Play his big cards? Yeah. He could do that.

  “Floragato!” His starter yelled as he materialized out of his Pokeball.

  “Well would you look at that? You don’t see one of the Paldea region’s big three starters everyday here in Sinnoh.”

  “Mrr.”

  “You don’t count Maxwell. You’ve eaten too many sweets, with too little exercise, most people think you’re a Purugly.”

  Mark frowned as he looked the strange thing up and down.

  It was a bipedal feline, with light green fur, and a short tail. It has a growth of green leaves on its neck, which drooped down to its hips, kind of like a poncho. The fur on its face was a darker shade, resembling a mask. All in all, it looked like it was designed as furry bait, and he doubted whatever the Hell it evolved into was any better

  With great brainpower, Mark made a scientific deduction.

  Is green. Green mean Grass. Yeh.

  “Shelgon, return!” Mark called as he pulled back his bestest boy.

  After all, part of the reason he entered this tournament was to get experience with his new member, and a Grass opponent would be perfect for her.

  “Noibat! Get em, girl!”

  The Purple bat/dragon materialized in the air, ready for her first fight, and quickly locked eyes with her opponent.

  “A Noibat? We’re getting all sorts of rare exotic ‘mons here today, aren’t we? More importantly, that’s the second Dragon we’ve seen from Cross. We might have a Dragon specialist on our hand here, folks.”

  Noibat attacked first, without needing a command from Mark. She streaked forward in a violet blur toward Floragato in a Quick Attack.

  Floragato tried to dodge, but was completely unprepared for how fast Noibat’s Quick Attack was. The bat slammed into him center mass, and sent him rolling. But the cat bounced back to his feet and darted back into close range before Noibat could get back into the air.

  “Leafe Blade!”

  With a flick of his tail, Floragato slashed a glowing green leaf in a wide arc, clipping Noibat’s wing when she tried to dodge to teh left. She yelped, not expecting Floragato to read her so easily.

  She panicked, and responded with a Wing Attack, that the cat parried with its sword.

  “Quick Attack away, disengage into the air!”

  Noibat’s ears perked up at the order and with a flap of her wings she disappeared in a streak of white light, letting Leaf Blade slice harmlessly where she had just been.

  “Get out of their range and rain down on them! Shadow Ball! Air Cutter! All guns fire!”

  “NOI!”

  Noibat reared back, her wings started glowing white, and darkness swirled in her mouth. The wind up took a second, and she dipped slightly in the air before unleashing her barrage.

  Floragato dashed out of the way, because who the fuck would just sit there and take it, but although he jumped out of the Shadow Ball’s path, a number of air blades still managed to cut into his fur and draw blood.

  “Floragato, show them why flying is a bad idea! Razor Leaf!”

  The green cat spit and swung a flower that sprung out of his fur coat, conjuring a swarm of glowing leaves that hovered in the air before shooting at Noibat.

  “Counter it with another Air Cutter!”

  Crescent-shaped blades of compressed whistled as they sliced toward Floragato, and collided with the Razor Leaf midair in an explosion. The Razor Leaf emerged victorious through sheer quantity, and emerged out the other side of the smoke, but there were much fewer leaves than there had once been, letting Noibat easily weave through them and launch another Shadow Ball.

  Floragato jumped out of the way, and responded with another volley of Razor Leaf.

  Noibat dove downwards, letting the volley fly harmlessly overhead.

  Then a third volley of leaves came from behind and cut into her back.

  “Noibat MOVE! That’s not really Razor Leaf!”

  Noibat cried out as the hit knocked her off balance and sent her spiraling through the air, but she managed to recover and transfer the speed of her fall into the momentum she needed to dodge as the volley of leaves that had just gone over her turned around and blasted towards her like homing missiles.

  “Way to go, Floragato! Keep up the Magical Leaf!”

  This continued for a decent while, with Noibat screaming through the air like a rocket, weaving and bobbing through the barrage of leaves in a show of grace (35%) and fuck-off speed (65%), that got a number of whoops and “ahhh”s from the audience, kept the growing number of leaves a good length behind her, and let her fire off retaliation shots.

  “Floragato, use Sunny Day.”

  Now, Mark had two warring thoughts in his head when he heard that.

  1: That was probably bad, and he should stop it.

  2: Sunny day? In a building? How the fuck does that work?

  Well his question was answered when Floragato spread his arms wide and shot a ball of glowing light into the air that hovered over the arena and began getting brighter and brighter until Mark couldn’t look at it without his eyes hurting.

  “Take the opening!” He barked as he shielded his eyes and, although his orders were vague, Noibat heeded them.

  She shot down like a dive bomber, with the “sun” to her back, a swarm of heat seeking leaves behind her, and used the time Floragato had to stay still to fuel the move to land a clean Wing Attack to the back of his head.

  “Yes! Hit him again! Press that fucking type advantage!”

  “Floragato, vanish!”

  Noibat’s second Wing Attack pierced straight through Floragato’s midsection, cutting the cat clean into two halves that faded into nothing.

  Noibat blinked, confused, then her eyes went wide in surprise as she realized she was surrounded.

  Floragato had multiplied, there were over a dozen of the green cats all around her, caging her in.

  “Blow away that Double Team with Supersonic!”

  Now, normally Supersonic wasn’t a damaging move. Technically it still wasn’t, but Noibat was, quite literally, the “Sound Wave” Pokémon, and had two massive ears that not only resembled loudspeakers, but partially acted like biological ones.

  So when the Sound Pokemon let out a TE infused blast of noise, as loud as she possibly could, while her target was point blank, it caused the illusions to all flicker and fall to the ground, mirroring the real Floragato as he clutched his sensitive cat ears.

  Then the barrage hit.

  Every leaf that had been fired at Noibat rained down in a volley that tore into Noibat and shredded all the illusions that were right next to her.

  When the attack finally cleared up, Noibat and Floragato were both laying on the ground next to each other, pincushioned by leaves, and struggling to push themselves up.

  “Air cutter! Blast that fucker!”

  “Crap, Floragato, to your feet! Use Seed Bomb!”

  But Floragato couldn’t hear its trainer over the ringing in its ears, and the pounding pain behind his eyes. The cat was confused, or rather Confused, and didn’t know what was coming until the volley of compressed air blades slammed into his back and sent him tumbling.

  “KO! Floragato is knocked out! This round is OVER! Your winner is, Marcus Cross, THE BREAKER!”

  -The Dragon King-

  “That’s what I’m talking about! You fucked him up!”

  Noibat preened under the praise as Mark ruffled her head.

  “You were all like zoom and then kapow and then wham! Shelgon’s a slow bruiser, and I’m used to dealing with him, but you’re so fast! It was like you were everywhere, and could be anywhere, that was sick! We have to train in more battles together, so that I can get better at planning around your speed, and we can use that to crush people who don’t expect it.”

  Noibat chirped in agreement and happily accepted the offering of a berry that Mark offered to her.

  But Noibat wasn’t the only Pokemon in the after-match lounge.

  Up above, hidden in the shadows of the rafters, two unblinking blood red eyes watched Mark with curiosity.

  “Well, you don’t belong here.” The eyes narrowed slightly as the creature tilted its head in thought. “What are you? And how did you get here?”

  -End Chapter-

  Thank you all for reading! EVen the fact that you enjoy it enough to spend your time on it means so much to me- and the fact that you like it enough to help support my writing as patrons, just blows me away.

  Thank you all so much!

  Don’t forget to comment, and give feedback so I can improve the story as much as possible. A lot of the Characters that the supporters submitted awhile back will be appearing in this tournament. Though a few had to be leveled down, since Mark is, you know, only on his second Gym, lmao.