Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Pokémon. Just my characters and my story. ^.^



~Chapter 2~

Tsunami







Well, shammed I was (darn you, Retro!). But what could I say? I'd committed myself, and no freakin' way wuz I givin' up my Medicham! As it turned out, most of what Retro's little image-play indicated was true, and Jennifer Haut did actually have private lessons that day. She arrived (ah, ha, ha! :p) fashionably late, and was pissed to tears that Retro had decided not to partner with her. I think I genuinely pitied the poor jerkess. But you know, that's just what happens when you think you can treat Retro like so much teddy-bear fluff.

After bringing Retro home (I did pass him by mom, first: yes, he could stay; no, I was NOT gallivanting off into the wild, blue nowhere, by myself on a journey of any kind!(fair enough; this isn't Kanto or anything--it's freakin' LA, CA!)), I made it a point to ask about those supposed "other" trainers. There were two or three, and they all wanted him, including Jenny. I have this sickening suspicion that her interest in my partner bordered closer to neurotic infatuation. So, as much as Retro genuinely liked me, I think it's fair to say he was also trying to get away from Jenny--and I don't freakin' blame him! I mean, who in the world would ever have the hots for a Medicham!? Like, ew!

I wonder though, if two beings are on the same level of sentience, how far can their compatibility go?

Anyway, that's how my life as a trainer officially began--getting shammed by my best partner! Jeez! What's a California girl to do with it all!? Everything began to radically change for me. First, I spent most of my time at Vic's training with Retro, learning the basics, just getting the whole partner thing down. He was already well versed in the methods and mentality of effective combat. Ironically, I did most of the learning. But I got the swing of it. We turned out to be really good. Of course, every other trainer around immediately tossed us in their "rookie" folder and packed us away mentally deep in file thirteen. Every one of them had at least three or more Pokémon to call upon (a real team, or so they said). I only had my Medicham. But after a few weeks in the local gym, Retro and I'd cleaned house and nobody wanted to battle us anymore! Again, I'll be fair. It took several months to get that good, which even then was an insanely short amount of time. But as I said before, Retro already knew how to fight. All I ever did was warn him if our opponent pulled bunnies out of their hat (which they frequently tried to do). All in all, a pretty darn fair start, for a mere couple of rookies! ^.~ We so rocked (we still do)!


Still, one Pokémon is just one Pokémon. Not that this is a bad thing. I would've been happy with Retro alone. Actually, it was my Medicham who suggested I find someone to add to our team. Like, why would we need anyone else, I wanted to know. Because of the basic mechanics of elemental combat, he said. Medicham are Fighting-type Pokémon, but they're also Psychic. This gives Retro a more versatile edge against a wider range of opponents, but it also increases some of his weakness. Flying and Ghost-type attacks are especially devastating to his physiology. I'd already learned as much by now. I still remember that one time when we nearly got our arse plowed by this one trainer and her Drill-pecking Fearow. If Fearow didn't have such lousy Special Defense, Retro's Psychic attack probably wouldn't have shut'im down in just two shots. So, yeah, I understood. We needed someone on our team who could handle Retro's natural enemies. We also needed someone who's physical statistics made up for Retro's low points. This part I didn't understand too well. It seems a Pokémon's combat characteristics are roughly divided into six or so categories. Hit points demark the amount of physical damage they can endure before they pass out. Attack measures the base amount of physical damage they can dish out with physical-based attacks (rock, ground, fighting, etc.); Defense measures the amount of damage their bodies can offset from those types of attacks. Special Attack measures the amount of metaphysical energy they can put into a certain category of attacks, the so-called "special" line (fire, water, ice, lightning, etc.); and naturally, Special Defense indicates how much damage their bodies can offset from those types of attacks. Speed measures several things, including their agility and response time, as well as how just plain fast they are when they decide to pick up their butts and run for it. And in addition to those basic six, you have evasiveness, immunity, the infamous "critical hit" ratio, and on and on. That's about where Retro lost me. But I guess it basically made sense.

So, who did we need, I asked. Retro didn't know. He knew what our next team mate should be like statistically, but he couldn't put a name to the Pokémon. Well, he did mention a few. Maybe a Golum, or a Dustox, or maybe something from the line of nine starter Pokémon. That last suggestion sounded like the best one. Most everyone we'd met had a Squirtle, Chicorita, or Torchic (or one of their evolutions), or something like that on their team. It was usually their best Pokémon, too. But still, where was I going to find one of those, and which one would I pick? There were nine to choose from (in addition to the three mentioned earlier, you had Charmander, Bulbasaur, Treeko, Mudkip, Totodile, and Cynaquil). Retro knew about those. We immediately dismissed the Grass-elements (too bad, I'd really love to have a Chicorita!), and two of the Water-types (no Blastoise or Feraligatr for me) and one of the Fire-types were also dismissed after consideration (bye-bye Blaziken; being Fighting makes you too weak to Flying). So, that left me with something that would eventually leave me with either a Charizard, Swampert, or Typhlosian. Of those three, Retro and I decided either a Charmander or a Mudkip would probably be best.

Well that was good, so we went to Vic to see where we could find one of those. In Kanto, Johto, Heon, and the Orange Islands (yea! I know them all now!), the starting smunchkins were simply given out by "professors" to those who resided in their respective regions and who'd acquired a trainer's license. Here in the states, however, you had to buy yours, usually from a special breeding farm or somewhere. And they weren't cheap--about $1200.00-$1500.00 each. The other way was to have a friend breed you one, and that was not only generally illegal (you needed a breeder's license for this), it usually left you with a Pokémon that wasn't as strong as the ones that were professionally bred. A real bummer of a deal. Considering all that, Vic suggested I not go with any of the starters (so much for that idea!).

My kickboxing instructor knew a heck of a lot more about the different breeds of Pokémon than I or even Retro, who's knowledge was limited at the time to general statistic data. She had several suggestions. Retro was Fighting and Psychic. Statistically, he was highest on Attack and Special Attack, had decent HP, nice Speed and Special Defense, but lacked a bit on physical Defense. Well rounded (well bred), but not invincible. Flying-type attacks (not necessarily Flying-type Pokémon) posed the greatest threat, and there were a host of those to be worried about. Vic suggested teaching Retro Technical Machine attacks would help a lot, when I actually got some to work with, that is. In the meantime, I needed someone who made up for Retro's weaknesses.

A Dusclops, she said would be really good, but I wouldn't find any around here. What the heck was that anyway? A Ghost-type Pokémon, she said--one with nice defenses. I didn't care. No ghosts for me, thanks, I said. She agreed, actually. I needed something to compliment not only my current partner's weak points, but something that would compliment me as a trainer. A team needed to be well-rounded, but it did best if it had offensive focus. So, how about something more readily available, I said. That was hard, she said, most of the ones that would be really good could basically be found in other parts of the world. Darn, I grumbled, so what do I do?

That's when Vic got her splendid little idea.

"Meet me here tomorrow morning, early," she said.

"Where are we going?" I wanted to know.

"Off the coast."



It was still dark when we put out with some of Vic's friends in their recreational hydrofoil (those are still pretty common, although they'll probably be replaced by the newer multi-terrain, anti-grav craft). I stared back across the dark waters. The coastline disappeared behind us, nothing more than a dark line of continental crust against the vast horizon. We'd left LA far behind, driving further north. Vic explained that we needed to be away from where people usually hung out.

"That's were the best Pokémon are more likely to be found."

It was about 6 AM then. About half an hour later, we were a good fifty or so miles out from the coast.

We brought the hydrofoil to a stop.

"So, what're we looking for?" I asked.

I was standing at the boat's prow, with Vic and her friend Lance Drake, a tall, athletically built man with handsome, angular facial features, a friendly smile, teal eyes and jutting blond hair that made him look like a super seiyan from Dragon Ball Z. Vic told me he was visiting from Kanto. I was just impressed with his double belt of Pokéballs. He had a full team it looked like, but they were all being kept in some real fancy, gold and silver, customized containment devices. I asked where he'd gotten them and if we could see his team. He smiled and said he'd had the Pokéballs specially designed to hold his team in particular (no, duh), which he declined to bring out at the moment (drat). However, should something go wrong, he said, we'd get an early preview.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but he looked like someone I'd seen before. How ironic. With all the Pokémon tournaments I'd watched, you'd think I would've figured it out by now. Our other companion was a guy named Steve. He wasn't heavily built like Lance, and sported a shorter crop of silverish hair and matching eyes. He was quieter, too, a distance look in his smooth complexion. But they had a similar air about them. I had the sneaking suspicion that I was not amidst ordinary folk.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure yet," Vic replied presently, rolling up the sleeves on her black windbreaker, "I spotted a Manteen or two on the way out here, but what I really want to see is a Wailord or Gyarados."

"A Gyarados? That's that water-dragon Pokémon thing, isn’t it?" You must forgive my ignorance. I'd only seen pictures of Gyarados, and that's what it looks like.

"Well, actually, Gyarados is Water and Flying. Kingdra are Water and Dragon, and I doubt we'll find one of those without going down under to find it--which is about the stupidest thing anyone can ever do! There're a million nasty things you're likely to run into before you even get deep enough."

"Kingdra?" I scratched my head, confused. Obviously, I retained little from whatever I'd learned to obtain my trainer's license. "Is that like a Seadra?"

"Actually, it's Seadra's evolution."

"Oh," maybe I wasn't so dull after all, "how cool!"

"Yeah, Seadra would be really good for your team--a Kingdra would be even better. But those are a bit hard to train. Anyway, they're not part of my specialty."


"No," Lance cut in, a broad smile on his lean face, "but they are part of mine!"

"Yes, they are," Vic replied evenly. She scratched her head, thinking of something it looked like. "So are Gyarados, if I'm not mistaken."

"Absolutely," Lance grinned.

"Is this a good place to find one, for Clare?"

Lance surveyed the lapping waters. "Maybe," he replied, uncommitted, "I think it's deep enough out here." He grinned, "Of course, if you want a real whopper, the best place to get one is from me!"

"How much do you charge?" I asked.

"What, me, charge money for my Pokémon? Ha! No way. But you'd better be a darn good trainer before I trust you with one of my little monsters."

"A good trainer, huh." I thought about that for a minute. So far, I'd proven myself to be that. Then again, having a fully sentient partner who already knew all the tricks to the game kinda helped (helped a lot). What would it be like starting from square one, though? I knew what we were out here for. I was suppose to catch my first wild Pokémon. Whatever I got (if I managed to do this right), it would be relatively untrained. How would I do at raising a Pokémon on my own? "I guess I've got a ways to go before I can actually call myself that," I replied.

"A good answer," Lance nodded. "If we do well out here, though, you won't need a Pokémon from me. And there's a lot more to training than the surface elements."

"Like what?"

"Like this: you can have a partner with good statistical ratios, but if the two of you don't click, or you treat him poorly, then your performance will suffer, considerably. I know. I've seen it happen all too often."

"Yeah..." I followed his gaze to where it rested some point away from our ship, "That makes sense."

"The same can be true when somewhat reversed. You can have a relatively weak Pokémon, but if he and his trainer are really attached, it almost doubles what you'd expect their performance to be. Training is a matter of the heart, Clare. If you are strong, in a good way, your Pokémon will be strong, too."

"That takes time, I guess."

"It does, but from what I've heard, you're off to a good start." He grinned. "Especially since part of that start happens to involve me!"

"Full of ourselves, are we?" Vic remarked dryly. "You don't change a bit, do you, Lance Drake."

"Ha, ha! Of course not!"

"Well, just try to concentrate on the moment, okay chief."

"Sure thing, West."

"Good boy," Vic turned as Steve came down and around from the pilot box, "What've we got Steve-o?"

"Heh. That's a good question. The sonar's detected something a few feet off the prow. It looks pretty big." He glanced at me. It was the first time, I realized. "Care to make a go at it?"

"Uh, I guess so. What is it? What do I do?"

"One question at a time. Here," he handed me a bag of Ultra balls (a lavish gesture, to be sure), "I'm going to flush our quarry. You and your Pokémon battle it and catch it with those. You do know what to do with them?"

I pulled a Pokéball out, and without looking, tapped the tractor beam port, expanding the storage device to full size. "Aim and throw," I replied coolly.

"Good girl." He turned and headed back toward the pilot box. "Lance, come help me sight this thing."

"Sure." Mr. Drake replied. "What've we got this time?"

"Hmmm." Steve pulled out something that looked like a small, gray palm pilot and began to punch in a few commands. A small screen suspended from a projector at it's head (A Pokédex, I realized). "It's too big to be a Melotic, and too long and slender for a Wailord. My guess, a hunkin' Gyarados. And I mean one BIG hunkin' Gyarados." Steve continued as they both headed for the pilot box. "We're about to have our hands full."

I frowned. Hunkin' big anything didn't sound particularly encouraging right now! I got that scrunched up feeling in my stomach I always get right before a really big match (one where I just might loose).

"I hope I'm ready for this!" I muttered sideways to Vic.

"Oh, you're ready alright. It's either now or never, girl." She gave me a light punch to the shoulder. "You'll be fine."

I glanced back at the other members of our little group. "Think these guys can handle it if something goes screwy?"

"Oh," Vic chuckled lightly, "they can handle it all right! Better than most. But don't worry about it. I'm betting that intervention won't be necessary."

"Okay. Thanks!"

"Sure thing." She headed for the back of the boat. "Better get Retro out and tell him what's going on."

"Yeah," I stared after her departing form for a moment before turning to stare blankly at the lapping waves, "right. Go Retro." I mechanically unclipped the single Pokéball from my trainer utility belt and tapped the port. A small flash of light followed.

"Good morning, Clare." Retro greeted me warmly.

"Good morning to you." I replied. Having my Medicham there did ease some of the tension.

"You look...strung up. What's happening?"

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. "We're about to catch our first Pokémon, buddy. Any helpful suggestions?"

"Just a question. What is it?"

"They think it's a Gyarados." I shivered, turning to face my partner. "A big Gyarados."

Retro frowned. "We haven't fought one of those yet. What is it like?"

"Here." I pulled out my own little red Pokédex (why hadn't I thought of doing that earlier?) and filed through the index. "That thing right there," I said, handing the device to Retro as the image of a long, dragonish-fish Pokémon registered on the projected screen.

"Huh." He looked the data over. "They can grow well over a hundred feet long. This might actually be a challenge for us." He closed the 'dex and handed it back to me. "You look worried."

"I guess I am." That was an understatement. I was scared to death. I could hear my heart throbbing in my ears.

Retro gazed out at the dark waves. The sun was just coming over the horizon, its rays casting long shadows across the deck of our watercraft. There was a light in his lavender eyes, expectation. Combat seemed to be the one thing he ultimately lived for. Whenever I'd called on him, he'd always been ready, and when he fought, he gave it his all...

Retro put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry."

...He was so dreadfully powerful. No matter how beat-up he got, he always managed to come back and win.

"I will not lose."

"Yeah." I smiled in spite of myself. "I believe in you. Kick some arse for me, Retro!"


That's when the wave hit us. It exploded from the surrounding waters and crashed against the sides of the hydrofoil, sending a deluge of frothy ocean over the deck. Before I had time to react, Retro scooped me up and catapulted us both into the pilot box overhead.


"Holey crap!" Lance yelled as we landed right next to him. "Go easy on the grand entrances!"

"Sorry!" I winced. "We got side-swiped. What were we supposed to do?"

"Point taken," Lance conceded good-naturedly. He glanced over at Vic, who didn't seem the least bit flustered. "Iron-hard, as ever. I don't see how you do it, West."

"Well, not by sitting around on my arse!" Vic yelled in reply as another wave broke over the deck, "Heads up boys!"

We all looked, just in time to see a monstrous fin and massive red-scaled section of body disappear into the rolling sea. The size of the thing shocked me. For a moment, nothing else about it registered.

"There it is!" Steve yelled, almost gleefully (for some odd reason, he and Lance both seemed to be really enjoying themselves all of a sudden). "Gawd, it's huge!"

"It's headed out to deeper water," Lance called from the controls, "Do we give chase?"

Steve nodded. "We give chase! It's moving fast. Hit the engines!"

I steadied myself against Retro as our boat picked itself up and blasted forward.

"Hey!" I yelled above the commotion, recovering my senses. "Aren't Gyarados suppose to be blue?"

Everyone seemed to stop dead. Lance and Steve's mouths were open in mid-chat; Vic was poised to refill her coffee thermos. The boat continued to cut water. Through the front window, I could see the waves ahead of us break suddenly. Sure enough, a rusty-hued, serpentine section of body broke through, followed by another and then another and then a massive, heavily frilled tail. Lance and Steve were instantly glued to the windshield.

"Holey Mac..." Lance breathed.

"I'll be damned." Steve finished.

"Uh," I glanced uneasily about, "Something wrong?"

"That's a Red Gyarados," Lance exhaled, "A freakin' Red Gyarados! Holey crap!"

"Yeah," Steve coincided, "Either we're just real lucky or the gods still have a distasteful sense of humor!"

"Well, whatever it is," I cut in, joining them all at the control room's fore, "let's just catch up with it so I can bag the darn thing."

Steve looked at me, the expression on his face some cross between astonishment and annoyance. "You don't just pull up to a Red Gyarados and bag it."

I checked my patience. "Is there something special about this tuna?"

"Oh, hell yeah! We approach this battle wrong and either our red friend out there disappears back into the depths for the next half a century or we get tossed into next Tuesday."

"Uh, in that case," I began to back away, "maybe we should just find another Gyarados!" Outside, the monstrous red coils continued to snake their way ahead of us. Then the fish's head broke the water, a huge mass of sleek, jutting fins and one, dominating, trident protrusion that ran from its face (I couldn't see it from the back) and out to the sides of its head. "Yeah," I gulped, "just a nice, little blue Gyarados, you know. Nothing fancy!"

"If you're not going to catch it," Lance gave me an adversarial grin, "I wouldn't mind taking a shot at this!"

"Neither would I," Steve remarked without humor. He was still transfixed by the gigantic sea serpent that swam on before us.

"A Red Gyarados," Vic mused, "I thought those were only legend."

Steve scratched his chin. "They're so rare they practically are. When we catch this oversized shrimp," he stated archly, "the first thing I'm going to do is make sure somebody didn't just dip it in a tub of red hot sauce!"

"Heh. Same here." Lance nodded.

"Hey, don't worry," I interjected, "if it's so important, I'll catch it already!"

"Crap. We just had to be out on your campaign, didn't we." Steve retorted ironically.

"Well, it sounds like it's going to be pretty hard to do," I replied, taking another glance out the window. Our quarry was still there. "You guys are welcome to help if I need it."

"Sure thing." Lance nodded, adjusting a few of the ship's controls. "You'd better head back out there, then. If I'm not mistaken, we'll soon be arriving at our rusty host's intended destination."

"He's been leading us on?" I asked, the uneasiness beginning to resettle itself in my stomach.

"Probably." Steve replied, "If my knowledge serves me worth a crap, that's how legendary Pokémon typically engage pursuers in combat." He smiled ruefully "It seems they like to have the terrain to their advantage."

"What terrain? There's nothing out here but open sea."

"Maybe. We'll find out."


The horizon was bathed in glorious rays of rising sun as the surreal ball of fire lifted itself from the sea. The Red Gyarados headed right into it, the light turning its crimson coat to gold. Lance and Steve donned sunshades. Vic and I shielded our faces with our jacket sleeves. Retro's eyes shone with pale blue psychic light as he stared straight ahead, stern gaze never leaving the creature we pursued. Through the glare, I could barely discern the vague outline of the Gyarados as it snaked into the overpowering light.

Then abruptly, it turned North, to our left, leaving a trail of choppy water as it sped away on its new course. We instantly turned to follow it. A few minutes later, it turned into the sun again. The light was no longer shooting its merciless rays into our eyes though, so we were allowed a better view of the oncoming horizon. What I saw took my breath away. Several miles ahead of us, the outfacing rings of a large atoll crept steadily in our direction, its lavish coral formations becoming clearer as we sped toward it. All about our hydrofoil, other large, snake-like bodies began to keep pace with the boat. These Gyarados were blue as the water their hulk exploded from, and though fearsome, they were nowhere near the size of the one ahead of us. Still, it made for an intimidating scene. The last thing I wanted to do now was head back out to the prow!

The atoll was suddenly before us. A few feet from its entrance, our escorts left, fanning out to either side of the massive coral structure. What an atoll was doing this far out from shore was beyond me, but there was no time to contemplate it now. With only the one fish to worry about, Retro and I made our way down to the front of the ship.

"You ready?" I inquired with a grin.

"Are you?" came my partner's reply.

"If you mean, do I have a plan, then no, not really."

"I thought as much."

"Hey, I've never done this before! It's not like you know what to do either."

"No, I suppose not." Arms crossed, he stared for a moment at the Gyarados. "I wonder if a focused Psychic shot to the head will take it out."


"Maybe..."

I thought about that for a moment. Retro was referring to a particular tweak he'd made to his Psychic attack, which had somehow made the technique about twice as effective as it was otherwise (it basically involved narrowing the telekinetic stream's scope from broad to focused and aiming it at more vulnerable areas of the brain). It seemed he had a whole boatload of these kind of tricks. Every attack he knew had at least three different ways in which it could be deployed. This one in particular simply blew your mind away (literally!).

"...It's worked that way against everything else you used it on so far," I stated ironically, "and booked them all for a week-long stay at the PC!"

We'd barely missed a real nasty run in with the law over one particularly devastating match in which Retro sent our local gym leader's Feraligatr through a stand of bleachers and out the wall on the other side. I got off with only a warning because of a supposed technicality that the judge deemed pertained to the match (something about fair retaliation). But after that, we resorted to more "resourceful" tactics, still using technique adaptations, but less obvious (and less divesting) ones.


"Their mental resistance wasn't sufficient enough to cope properly."

"I still say stash that technique in the 'last resort' pile."

"We face a legendary. We will need to make full use of our resources if we intend to win."

"Right, but if you don't mind, I'd like to take this prize home, alive, and preferably without putting it through psychic trauma."

"Hmm. Point taken. Any other restraints?"

"No. I still want you to take his arse down--hard."

Retro smiled. "Of course."

"So," I continued, trying to salvage what little time we might have before the main event began, "do you know anything about legendary Pokémon?"

"In general, or about this one?"

"Whatever's pertinent," I answered (I was picking up on my partner's vocabulary, it seems).

"I only know what Vic has taught me, and that wasn't enough to base a strategic approach on."

"Drat. I would think someone of your superior mental capacity would know these kinds of things."

"Mental capacity has nothing to do with simply not being informed."

"Oh well. I guess it really didn't have anything to do with your training as a fighter anyway."

"Precisely."

"That still doesn't help us any."

"No. I'll have to assess this opponent as I go. To reiterate what's already been said, this may actually be a challenge for us."

"I've not doubt it will be. Just try not to get yourself killed, okay?"

"Of course." he replied absently. I could tell his mind was already at work on the coming battle.

"No, Retro," I turned to face him and brought him about to face me. I held his gaze. "Promise me you'll abandon this fight if it proves to be too much."

He regarded me for a moment, then smiled ruefully. "Define 'too much.'"

"Don't be silly," I retorted, tensed, "you're my best partner. I am NOT losing you."

Retro's eyebrow arched. "Currently, I'm your only partner."


Ahead of us, the fringes of the atoll engulfed our craft as we passed through its wide entrance and followed our quarry into the formation's interior.


"Promise me."


The Red Gyarados surged through the wide, open channels, and we held its break-neck pace, the hydrofoil leaning into the continuous turn as it led us into the atoll’s center.

Grabbing the rail, Retro held us both in place. His lavender eyes narrowed as they met mine, assessing the seriousness of my plea. I stared defiantly back.


"Promise me, Retro."


The channel's sides abruptly widened and then the passage itself disappeared altogether as we rocketed out into where it opened into an enormous caldera. Below us, the water turned dark blue as the channel's ledge suddenly dropped away into unseeable depths. If a satellite picture were taken of the place, it would probably've looked like a black hole with a galaxy of coral structures forming it's pin-wheel ring, with one broad path leading into it from the outside.


"Alright. You have my word."

Impulsively, I reached out and drew him to myself, putting my arms about his taught neck and planting my lips on his cheek. "Thank you."

He flinched, but held his ground. "I think you're overly concerned."

I pulled away. "I think I'm just being honest with you about how I feel as your trainer. I've a right to be overly concerned for you in a battle like this."

"Hmm." Retro reached up and wiped the side of his face. "I appreciate the commitment," he said as he glanced distastefully at the red lipstick on his hand. "I wouldn't do that again. There are a range of diseases humans can contract by having 'intimate' contact with Pokémon."

"Sorry!" I blushed. "I'll remember that."


A deafening roar ripped through the relatively static air about us, making me cringe. I whipped around to see what was happening. Our little craft was pulling up beside a small shore of exposed sand on rock. I stared. Both were obsidian black.

"We're not in Kansas, Toto." I muttered under my breath. This place was getting weirder by the minute.

In the center of the caldera, the Red Gyarados was breaking in a full-out lunge from the dark waters. It hung for a moment in midair, its entire, glistening crimson length exposed as it began to arch downward again. It hit the water head first, sending a miniature tidal wave surging from its point of reentry. Everyone grabbed something as the rushing waters hit our craft, sending seawater crashing over the deck and even launching spray into the pilot box. The monstrous sea beast resurfaced several yards away from us, the water it displaced causing our boat to rock again. It lifted its fin-frilled head and roared.

If I had been a stick of butter, I would've melted. For the first time, I got a look at its face--a real good look! Massive, twin fins protruded from the side of its head, and an ever bigger set unfurled from its hulking shoulders (or where its shoulders would be if it had any). A broad, dense, tri-pronged, horn-like protrusion radiated from its forehead, stretching out past the confines of its face and sweeping back slightly around its head. Smaller protrusions jutted in a kind of ridge from its neck to its shoulder, extensions to its body's sections of thickly armored, crimson-scaled hide. Two monstrous tusk-like canines jutted from its fish-lipped mouth. When it roared, its jaws spread to reveal twin rows of razor-edged teeth, another pair of smaller canines sliding from under the lip of its broad-nostrilled muzzle. Two long strings of some kind streamed from under its chin. A massive pair of sail-like fins protruded from just below its inferred shoulder line. Two, glowing red eyes glared at us from beneath its trident forehead guard as its lips curled back, fangs bared in a menacing snarl.

Lowering itself slightly, it suddenly lunged from the water again, curling over backwards as it retreated back to the center of the watery enclosure.


"Maverick, Shiva! Wrap and Fly!"


My head darted up in time to see Lance toss a gold ball into the air. A huge, cream-colored Pokémon with comparatively small orange wings on its back exploded forth (I love Dragons!). A band of blue energy instantly laced itself about the hydrofoil, searing through the water and coming back around to the creature that had cast it. I grabbed the rail and braced myself again as Lance's Dragonite sunk its claws into the Wrap. Another Dragonite popped into existence beside it and also took hold of the blue cord. Together, they lifted the ship out of the water. We sailed back over the enclosing ring of black rock and sand just as another miniature tsunami broke over its glittering surface. We came down again on the other side of the caldera, back inside the shallower depths of the main channel.

"That was a close shave, if I do say so myself!" Lance exclaimed, oddly ecstatic. He grinned broadly at me from where he was, standing on the pilot box roof.

I wondered how he'd managed not to fall off.

"Alright, this looks like the real deal," he continued, "whoever wants that Gyarados is going to have to battle it in that lagoon of his."

"How am I going to get all the way out there?" I yelled up to him. The whole arena looked about a mile in diameter. To meet my opponent where he currently was would mean a block-long jog over water.

"Jump up here," Lance called back, glancing briefly up at the second Dragonite, "Shiv'll give you a lift!"

I turned to Retro, "Let's go!"


A moment later, we were soaring back over the black divide, Lance riding his lead Dragonite, Maverick, and I clinging for dear life to Maverick’s sleek mate, Shiva, as we raced back into the arena. Retro flew on his own accord between the two Dragonite (that Medicham never ceases to amaze me). Swiftly, but with caution, we approached the massive Gyarados. His looming form rose out of the water like the handle of an ornate Japanese katana, a single stick of glistening crimson in a tsuba of ripples moving out from where the rest of him submerged beneath the deep blue sea. His bristling head lifted to meet our advance, blood-red eyes still glowing with their own internal light. The creature's tight-lipped mouth parted slightly, one eye narrowing critically. I could've sworn he'd just sneered at us. An instant later, he opened his toothy mouth and another ear-splitter noise cut through the air.

"HALT!"

The voice was deep and guttural and it shook the whole caldera with its heavy, base-level reverb. It wasn't a roar, but sentient speech, and for a moment, I wasn't so sure it was the Gyarados that had made it.

"I said halt, scum, or I will rend you to ribbons!"

There could be no mistaking it. The Gyarados' jaws moved in perfect sync with the throbbing voice.

Digging my heels into Shiva's sides, I brought my ride to a staggering halt. Beside me, Lance, Maverick and Retro pulled up beside me. Lance and Maverick were exchanging uneasy glances; Retro looked two shades more grave.


I was just indignant. The immediate danger forgotten, I threw up my hands and yelled back across the watery expanse.

"My gawd! How many freakin' talking Pokémon are there in this freakin' world!?"

I immediately regretted the outburst.


"Silence!"

The Gyarados roared in reply, sending a gust of tepid, fish-breath wind in our direction. I held my nose and struggled to hang on as Shiva adjusted to the draft.

"Who are you and why have you pursued me?"

I swallowed hard. "I didn't peruse you really," I wanted to say, "just wanted to invite your rare arse to join the Miami Fishermen’s' Record Catch Hall of Fame!" But my mouth refused to move. If I hadn't really been afraid before I definitely was now. I felt my face go cold. My entire body went stiff, my muscles threatening to lock permanently. My apparent helplessness scared me more than anything else. Desperately, I tried to force my head to move. It was stiff, but not immobile. I shot a pleading look over to Retro and Lance.

They both glided a yard or so forward.

Lance spoke first. "I represent the Indigo League," he boomed in reply, "I am Lance, Drake Gareath, High Champion and Master Trainer of Dragon kind!"

The Gyarados growled.

"High Champion of Indigo, eh? And a Dragon Master you say? Ha! If that is so, then you will make for a worthy opponent! You have come to challenge me then?"

Lance shook his head. "No! I am simply your challenger's escort." To my horror, he turned and gestured toward me. "It is she who wishes to engage you in combat!"

I tried to hunker down behind Shiva's beating wings. I wanted to disappear. The Gyarados' massive head swung around to face me, his ruby eyes boring into mine. He regarded me for a moment before his mouth again spread in an indignant sneer.

"What, this?"

The Gyarados shook with deep, haughty laughter.

"You mean to tell me that my grand challenger is to be an insignificant, petrified, incompetent child!?"


My head shot up.

What did he call me?


"Come now, Dragon Master, don't mock my intelligence!"


Instantly, the blood began to flow through my paralyzed limbs. I sat up, straightening myself on Shiva's back. My situation hadn't changed. I was still painfully aware of the danger I as ultimately in, but a new ingredient had just been added to the batter of my emotional state. Anger began to out-weigh fear. My opponent had just made his first big mistake.


"No, if you will not challenge me, then I will be off. I am a noble guardian. I do not fight with mere children!"


"Hey! Who're you calling a child, punk!?" I yelled.


"Silence! You insubordinate fool!"

I grinned from ear to ear. The Gyarados had unwittingly crossed onto my turf. "Takes one to know one, ya oversized mackerel!"

"How dare you! Why should I fight you at all? I did not come here to be insulted and dishonored! Curse you all!"

"Fine, coward! Run with your tail between your teeth! Who needs you! You're an arrogant, stuck-up, self-centered, lousy, son of a shrimp excuse for a legendary Pokémon! And brush you freakin' teeth! Your breath's enough to make your mother say she never knew you!"


The great Gyarados eyes burned bright crimson as he thrashed the water in rage.

"ENOUGH!! You think you can subdue me!? I'll obliterate you! Brace yourself, fool! I am Tsunami! I accept your challenge!"

The air about the giant dragon-fish seemed to shimmer and brighten as light energy collected into a spinning ball in front of his open mouth.

"Now you DIE!!"


I barely held on to Shiva as she banked sharply to the right and streaked swiftly away. The atmosphere rippled as an enormous column of light screamed overhead. An instant later, we spun in the opposite direction as another Hyper Beam scorched its way by. Maverick (with Lance) and Retro were instantly beside us, both throwing up shields of glowing energy.

"Clare!" I heard Lance yell to me, "Get some distance! Let your Pokémon handle this fight!"

Without arguing, I kneed Shiva and shifted her around into a fast flight, heading for the outfacing ring of black rock surrounding the caldera. I guided her around the dark perimeter then looked back. Lance and Maverick were right behind us, but half a mile away, in center ring with the monstrous fish, I could just make out Retro's comparatively pin-prick image, surrounded by a sphere or blue psychic energy as he sped forward in a dead charge at his oversized opponent. I held my breath as the Gyarados turned to face his attacker. Another ball of pale yellow light began to form at his bared fangs. Seemingly oblivious to the obvious danger, Retro came on.

Another massive Hyper Beam ripped through the air, screaming toward my Medicham. I shielded my eyes as the attack met its mark and exploded in a dome of blinding light. When I looked again, only the Gyarados remained. Retro was nowhere in sight.






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