Borne of Caution - Act 1: Chapter 23.1

In which Lee is born in a world even more wild than Pokemon. One rife with its own monsters.

(Monster Hunter x Pokemon)

Norman Maple, Leader of the Petalburg Pokemon Gym, has no idea where things went wrong today.

This morning, he woke up as he usually did. He rose out of bed, kissed his wife good morning, enjoyed breakfast, got ready for the day, called his kids to see if they’re having fun on their pokemon journey, and finally got to his Gym duties.

He was called in by City Hall to help mediate a land dispute between two neighbors. Why he had to do it, Norman was unsure. Besides the old zoning laws he had to look up for Gym renovations, he’s not well versed in real estate. Bah. The civilian government is useless…

Then he battled a few hopeful trainers. None of them were anything special. One came prepared with a Machop and saw success against Norman’s rookie team, earning him a Balance Badge.

Then his next challenger raised an eyebrow when he read the profile.

Lee Henson, age 24. No sponsor, and only an active trainer for about half a year.

The situation happens. An adult becoming a trainer later in life isn’t that strange. Some are educated, but simply have circumstances get in the way of their journey and need to delay. Some are unhappy with mundane lives in offices or the like and decide to do what makes them happy: raising pokemon. Others hit a mid-life crisis and yearn to return to their youth, sometimes taking a short stint as a trainer. Against younger trainers who grew into the lifestyle, though, these poor adults are often left outclassed and despondent when someone ten years their junior stomps them. After such disappointment, they often quit.

Lee Henson is not one of them, and now Norman is kicking himself for not starting with his own personal pokemon. The man’s first pokemon should have been a red flag.

Against Norman’s league provided Spinda, Lee sent out a Salazzle. The following battle (if it could be called that) was embarrassing. After releasing his pokemon, Lee simply smiled and told her to “Do what you do best.”

Salazzle fought like a Persian, playing with Spinda cruelly. Spinda’s teetering fighting style did nothing to throw off the Alolan Poison/Fire-type, who hit her with Toxic and forced the panicking Spinda to stumble away from thin tongues of flame. Norman’s attempts to recover from the backfoot battle failed when Salazzle used Screech each time he tried to give orders, making Spinda cringe and freeze, unable to hear him.

After entirely too long, Spinda, burned and miserable, fell to her poisoning and Norman recalled her.

The crowd gathered in the stands hissed and booed at the underhanded tactic, all except Brendan Birch, the son of Norman’s friend and the Hoenn Regional Professor, Nigel Birch, and a tanned young woman in a traveling cloak.

Salazzle bounded back to her trainer, tail waggling like an eager Poochyena, and another red flag jumped out at Norman.

Salazzle are one of the few controlled pokemon species, needing special licensing and proof of competency to own. Their mind-addling pheromones, which work twice as well on both pokemon and human males, means unwary trainers can quickly find themselves enthralled and used as playthings. The average Salazzle is usually difficult in personality as well, being disagreeable at the best of times and less affectionate than the young men who desire them would wish.

Lee’s Salazzle embraced her trainer and looked up at him, almost begging for his approval with her eyes.

The man smiled and stroked her head, and the lizard pokemon blushed, looking as if she’d gone to heaven.

Norman’s Vigoroth, despite being stronger than Spinda by a huge margin, went down just as easily. Salazzle toyed with him, poisoning him and dancing around the sloth pokemon’s speedy attacks. Norman ordered him to use Facade, the move famous for its power increase when the user is suffering some sort of ailment. Empowered by his poison-fueled pain, Vigoroth roared and shot towards Salazzle.

A pillar of fire from the dark lizard’s throat stopped Vigoroth dead, and the heat was so intense that several people in the stands screamed in fright, the barriers on the field not keeping all the heat in.

When the fire faded, Vigoroth was a twitching heap on the ground.

Frustration mounting, Norman sent out his Chansey, determined to turn this around. Chansey’s healing prowess should keep her in the fight long enough for her Sing into Focus Punch combo to end Salazzle.

Then Lee recalled his pokemon and sent out a fucking Haxorus. The Dragon-type was a monster, standing nearly nine feet tall rather than the average of six and rippling with muscle. Again, the infuriating trainer told the pseudo-legend to have fun, and issued no other orders.

Chansey fell in just two brutal attacks, and Norman’s Linoone was just plain insulted when Haxorus stood and took several ineffective attacks before retaliating.

Now, with his last pokeball in a white-knuckle grip, Norman wonders how things got to this point.

Across the arena and behind Haxorus, Lee stands with a carefree smile on his scarred face. Just the man’s visage should have been a warning of things to come, now that Norman thinks about it.

Standing a few inches over six feet tall and with a messy mane of hair pulled back into an equally messy Ponyta tail, Lee Henson would be easy to pick-out in a crowd. The man’s arms, coated in scars of all sorts, are muscular and bare, speaking to a life of labor. Under his plain black sleeveless shirt, his broad chest strains against the fabric, and laying around his neck is a necklace with a simple charm made of bone. His faded pants, made of gortex or something similar, Norman isn’t quite sure, lead down to equally worn work boots. Finally, on his face are a trio of claw-marks running down the left-side of his face and faded with age. One line carves through his eyebrow, and the man is lucky to still have his eye.

Norman’s not sure what’s worse. The losses so far, or the fact that the man isn’t taking him seriously.

Rolling his pokeball in his hand, Norman decides his pride is worth more to him. “Mister Henson?” He calls, voice amplified by the lapel mic on his shirt. “You aren’t giving it your all in the bout. Is the Gym Challenge a joke to you?”

The wild-looking man blinks. “Ah?” He blinks. “No no, Mister Norman. You misunderstand. My partners and I are giving this a sporting effort. This is far from a joke. I’ve asked them to battle at a level they feel is appropriate. I understand if it comes off as… well…” Lee trails off, looking vaguely sorry.

“Mister Henson…” Norman clenches his jaw. “You’re meant to bring your full power to bear here. This isn’t a game.”

“I’m playing no games, Mister Norman.” Lee sighs and shakes his head. “I attempted to explain this to Mister Wattson, but…”

‘Wattson? Did he battle Wattson?’ Norman looks away briefly. The next Gym Leader meeting isn’t for a week, so the Normal-type master has no way of knowing until then. “You’re just insulting myself and the League by not taking this seriously. As Gym Leader, I can cancel your challenge and deny you my badge for contempt. Please don’t force my hand, Lee. Take this seriously.”

Lee goes silent, and for a worrying moment Norman thinks he’s going to be forced to make good on his threat. Then, Lee sighs. “Pokemon Battling is a sport, is it not? I don’t see senseless beat-downs as sporting. I am in no position to argue, though, Gym Leader Norman. I will oblige you with the strongest member of my team and I working together.”

Haxorus whirls around and looks at his trainer with undisguised horror. He lets out a shaky growl ending with an inquisitive lit, staring at the pokeball Lee takes from his hip.

A sudden unsettling feeling begins to creep up Norman’s spine.

Lee smiles. “Yes, my friend. I understand. You and she will have to make peace eventually, but that can wait. I’ll return you first.” The scarred man holds up a pokeball marked with a little claw sticker. “Return!”

Haxorus slumps in relief as the red beam of light engulfs him and sucks him back into his ball.

Lee returns Haxorus’ ball to his hip and raises the other one. Norman can just make out a cartoony bomb sticker on it. “Gym Leader Norman, allow me the pleasure of introducing my oldest partner. I raised her from birth years ago, and she’s been a steadfast friend I can no longer imagine life without.” He winds his arm back and whips it high in the air.

The ball splits open with its distinct pop-hiss and out comes a mass of white light. The light hits the ground and grows larger.

…And larger, and larger, and larger..!

When the light fades, Norman has no idea what he’s looking at, he just knows he should have taken the loss to Haxorus.

A pokemon unlike any other looms before him and glares down at him hatefully, it’s golden eyes shining with seething hostility. It stands on two, four-toed reptilian hindlegs and wyvern-like front legs with great webbed wings fused to them, each ending in a raptorial claw. It’s tarnished-bronze scales shine with a dull light, looking entirely like a suit of armor. It’s head, with a short, wide muzzle fitted with slathering pearly teeth, is connected to a thick neck that leads to an equally wide body. Trailing behind it, a long, flat tail whips impatiently, only barely missing Lee. Along the underside of its neck and tail, curious, enlarged scales lay flat with thin stems of gray skin holding them on.

The sheer scale of the beast is what cows Norman through. From the floor to the top of its hunched back, the pokemon is at least fifteen feet tall. Nose to tail, it must be pushing eighty feet. It takes up a huge part of Lee’s side of the arena just by standing there! What does this pokemon eat? Entire Wailords?!

The pokemon rears up then opens its mouth to let out a terrifying, deafening roar. The cry displaces so much air that the barriers around the arena flare and groan from the force, drawing screams from the spectators.

“Gym Leader Norman,” Lee calls over the noise. “May I introduce you to Bazelgeuse, my closest friend.”

The now named Bazelgeuse rears her head back and roars again, holding the trumpting cry long enough that she drowns out everything else.

Norman winces and looks down at the pokeball in his hand. Saying a prayer to Arceus, he tosses it in the arena. “Slaking! I need everything you can give me!”

The pokeball bursts open, and out comes the ape-like sloth pokemon Slaking, already laying on his side as materializes in the arena. Slaking’s eyes flutter open as if awaking from a pleasant nap, and the sloth smacks his lips before scratching his belly. It’s only then does he seem to realize the mammoth wyvern, larger than any pokemon he’s ever seen, looking down at him with eyes that promise violence. Slowly, he looks back at Norman, expression clearly saying “Are you fucking serious?”

“Bazelgeuse!” Lee’s voice thunders across the Gym. “Bombing Run into Double-Edge! Go!”

The skin between Bazelgeuse’s scales begins to glow with a baleful orange light, and with the sound of churning water, the flat scales along her neck and tail begin to inflate into egg-like orbs filled with fire distilled into liquid form. The whole Gym becomes uncomfortably hot as the scales swell almost to bursting, then she spreads her wings and takes to the air with a single flap, casually blowing up a gale that would make a Pidgeot green with envy.

Norman sighs.

Today would have been a good day to stay in bed.