Inyssa
Youngster
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Summary
Scott has been desperately searching a trainer worthy enough to lead his Battle Frontier, all the while its grand unveiling hovers ever closer.
Anabel has come to challenge the facilities with a singular purpose in mind and three of the strongest Pokemon in Hoenn at her command. Come hell or high water, she's getting what she came here for.
Occam's Razor dictates that one plus one usually amounts to two.
Author Notes
I was very much hit with the Anabel plot bunnies even though I definitely have other stories to write first, so I decided to write a One-shot about how she got to be the Frontier Brain and leave it at that for now. Still, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hopefully it'll be fun to read too. And as a bonus, here's a cover I drew of the fic because I was bored:
Out of all the uncharitable ways Scott had been described by other people, his favorite was still the one uttered by a good friend when he was just starting out in this business:
He’s a real ‘I know a guy’ type of guy.
It remained true to this day. Eleven years it had taken him, starting out as a simple recruiter assistant for Devon Co.’s technological research wing, and slowly working his way not up the ladder but sideways instead, jumping from one venture to a much grander next one; amassing contacts, experience and funds until finally, nothing stood in the way of his dream. Until the building blocks upon which his ultimate project would be built rested at his feet, until he finally stood upon a game board of his own making, beautiful and unlike anything Hoenn had ever seen.
After that, all he needed was to amass his pieces. And that’s where his unparalleled talent at networking came in.
Scott had brought many teams together, each comprised of the perfect candidates for whatever the project called for. But this was different. Talent was not hard to find in Hoenn, and the process had only gotten easier the more colleagues and friends he met along the way, but gathering qualified employees was one thing.
Gathering a group of seven Champion-level trainers, each specializing in their own flavor of mastery, was quite another.
And yet, he was so close to succeeding. Familiar words came to mind, the sensation of a pat on the back from his previous -and last- boss and words spoken with a mix of sadness and pride, following his last triumph before embarking on his own voyage.
I ask the impossible, Scott, and you deliver. I’ll be sad to see you go, buddy.
The Battle Frontier had been Scott’s dream ever since he was a child, a dream that had evolved in scope and complexity with the years, for he was nothing if not a perfectionist. Rationalizations had come at some point after the initial dream as well. He knew that the League, important though it was to the landscape of Hoenn, was not truly a place to test the best of the best.
Yes, young trainers were encouraged to challenge the Gyms, grow stronger and -should they make it to the end- challenge the Elite Four and the Champion in an attempt to win the title. But it was also a form of filtering by the League, a way for them to find and hire promising trainers for whatever they needed at the time. An enterprise which met its purpose, yes.
But what of those who truly wanted to test themselves? Those who’d already conquered all eight strongholds of Hoenn, those who wanted more than a simple battle and a title? That’s where Scott’s Battle Frontier came in.
In his own words, it was a true gauntlet. A place for those who believed themselves to have reached their pinnacle to learn how big the world truly was, and be either broken or forged into something stronger amidst the flames of the seven crucibles the Battle Frontier offered. And what a tempting offer it was, especially for his sponsors. He’d even received kudos and promises of future patronage by the new Champion of Sinnoh herself, which was high praise.
Already, six of the seven were assembled and in full working condition. As a matter of fact, the Battle Frontier itself had been up and running in limited capacity for over a month, though only to those with beta-tester privileges. Its true unveiling would only occur once Scott found the head upon which the crown of Frontier Brain would sit.
Which… truthfully, even with Scott’s considerable talent, was taking longer than he’d intended.
He’d given himself a time-limit, as with every other project, and its deadline tightened ever closer around his neck with every day that passed. Should he fail to find the right trainer, Brandon would take the spot by default. And while the man was an incredible trainer on his own, and more than qualified to be a Champion, he clearly much preferred to man the Battle Pyramid.
And… to be honest, he wasn’t exactly what Scott was looking for. The man was a worthy trainer and natural-born leader, yes, but was he fit to be the leader of the Battle Frontier? The final barrier to overcome on one’s way to the pinnacle of training?
Neither of them thought so, and so the search continued. The hands of the clock ticked onward, hovering ever closer to his deadline.
“Scott, I don’t know how else to rephrase anymore that you’re overthinking things.”
Lucy’s straightforwardness was as refreshing as usual. For a second there, he thought she might’ve not heard a word he said, lazily sprawled on her throne within the depths of the Battle Pike, one leg resting over the other, gaze lost in the golden gleam of the coin she spun between her fingers. But he should’ve known better.
“There’s no way to arrange the deck from the start that will guarantee your preferred outcome a hundred percent of the time,” she chided him. “Brandon is a good candidate. So is Spenser. You have options to fall back on.”
A sigh left the man’s lips. He sat on a chair opposite to Lucy’s, fanning himself with a copy of the Battle Frontier pamphlet. Hoenn was warm enough as is, but Lucy really liked cranking the thermostat up, for some ungodly reason.
“Spenser outright refused already,” he complained. “And Brandon… Well, he said he’d accept if it came to that, but it’s clear he’d rather someone else hold the title. And honestly, neither of them-”
“Fit the bill of what you had in mind?” Lucy cut him off sharply. “Yes, I’ve heard it a hundred times before. Suck it up. Trainers of our caliber aren't exactly a dime a dozen as is; you won’t find many that aren’t as eccentric.”
Scott scoffed, feigning offense. “Lucy, Please. If eccentricity were an issue, none of you would have jobs,” he said, curling his lips into a joking smile. “No, it’s… something else. I need someone who can lead you all even in my absence. Someone who truly exemplifies the virtues of the Battle Frontier, someone who-”
“Someone who can deal with Tucker so that you don’t have to?”
“I-buh-well, that’s… That’s just a low blow, Lucy.”
A raised eyebrow about as sharp as a Seviper’s tail was all the reply he was given. It was hard to stick to his guns under the weight of that paralyzing glare.
“I think…” Scott spoke slowly, carefully. “...That it would benefit everyone if you guys had someone to answer to other than me.”
Lucy breathed deeply, throwing the coin upwards and catching it, gripping it tightly with frustration. “You’re ridiculous, both of you. It’s been three months since you broke up.”
“We haven’t actually-”
“So nut up and go ask him how he feels!” Finally, the outburst of anger she’d been trying to keep down exploded out of her, and she slammed the hand holding the coin down onto the armrest of her chair. The sudden weight behind her voice sent a shiver down Scott’s spine. “I’m sick of hearing about this from both of you! Either fold or play, stop being so fucking indecisive!”
Despite having weathered countless powerful personalities at his previous job sites, there was something about Lucy’s anger that even he couldn’t remain unflinching against. Maybe the fact that she was so direct, so… stabbingly honest. Though even then…
“You… seem cross,” he said carefully. “More than usual, I mean. Is everything alright, Lucy?”
Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I-I’m not, honest! I’m just worried that-”
Before he could make a case for himself, the tall, thick crimson curtains hiding Lucy’s room from view were forcefully opened up, and through them stepped in one of the receptionists working at the Pike’s lobby. The poor woman seemed to wither at Lucy’s glare, but she spoke up regardless.
“M-Miss Lucy, you told me to… To inform you when the challenger, um…”
Like a spring, Lucy shot up from her throne and walked down the small staircase, meeting the woman eye to eye, expectant yet already frustrated. Scott frowned. So whatever this was must be why…
“Well?” she asked, folding her arms. “What is it?”
“The challenger… Just like before, she reached the end of the Battle Pike and then… forfeited. She’s gone now.”
Lucy’s eyes widened, to the point they couldn’t see the red and black mascara outlining them anymore. Her fingers dug into the skin of her arms, and her nostrils flared with anger. Danger signs. Flashes of lightning before the crack of thunder.
“Leave.” As soon as that word was uttered, the receptionist quickly bowed and closed the curtains behind her, her footsteps echoing through the hallway as she left. “Scott… As my good friend, I need you to do me a solid and stop me from killing a teenager.”
From anyone else, that would’ve sounded like a joke. But Scott could see the vein pulsing on Lucy’s temple, and smelled danger in the air.
“Whoa-Okay, deep breaths.” He stood up from his chair, getting in between her and the exit. “No killing anyone, that’s bad for PR. Mind telling me what this is about, instead?”
Eyes closed tight, Lucy raised a shaking fist as though she were going to slam it against the wall, but stopped at the last second, forcing herself to take a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, the fury behind them had lowered to a controlled simmer.
“There’s this… challenger. This brat ,” she spat the word out like a mouthful of poison. “She’s been coming to the Battle Pike every day… for the past two weeks. Challenging my facility over and over , and every single time, right before having to face me… She forfeits!”
She couldn’t keep how offensive she found it any longer, swiping at the air with one hand. Yet Scott was more intrigued than worried over the safety of this strange challenger now, the spark of opportunity coming alive inside his head.
“Every day… for two weeks, you say.” He brought a hand to his chin and looked down, contemplatively. “And how many rounds a day would you say she does?”
Lucy scoffed. “I don’t know, over a dozen at least. Why? What does that have to do with-?”
That’s all it took for the dots to connect. She paused, quickly did the math inside her head, and that managed to make her even angrier, if such a thing was possible. Scott could hear the creaking of her fingers stabbing into the leather of her gloves from afar.
“...It would be just enough to earn the daily limit of Battle Points,” she hissed. “Seventeen rounds; even without facing me at the end that makes for a hundred points!”
Scott nodded. “A hundred a day, for over two weeks… Whew boy, that’s nearly fifteen hundred Battle Points! I’d say we need to limit the daily amount even further, but I don’t see many trainers being able to go through seventeen rounds of any of our facilities daily.”
“That’s why I told you we needed to challenge them even before that,” Lucy said. “One challenge in the middle of the gauntlet, another one at the end!”
“Yes… we might have to overhaul that particular quirk of the frontier,” he said, smiling apologetically. “But that’s not the problem, Lucy. Don’t you see? We have under our noses a trainer capable of a feat like this… What are we doing just sitting around!?”
“W-what?”
And with a burst of energy that surprised even the queen of the Battle Pike, Scott threw open the curtains behind him and formed a smile like that of a child about to open a present. He could barely contain his excitement.
“I wanna learn more about this mysterious trainer of yours,” he said. “Do you wanna come with?”
Due to Scott’s placed importance on records and information-keeping, it was relatively simple to find the identity of the girl who’d been tormenting Lucy for weeks. A quick trip to HQ and a talk with the in-house data analyst and they had the name of their culprit.
“Anabel R., huh? I didn’t think you could put an initial as your last name; gonna have to tell the guys to fix that later.”
Scott and Lucy looked at the screen over the data analyst’s shoulder, reading the entry form the girl had filled before being allowed to participate in the Battle Frontier. Unsurprisingly, many of the fields were empty; most of it boiled down to her being seventeen and a native of Kanto, though she currently lived in Hoenn. As for the girl’s appearance, it was hard to pin anything other than she was pale, young and had light purple hair, due to the face mask and cap she wore to conceal most of her face.
“Yeah, looks like she only filled as much of the form as was absolutely necessary,” said the man in the chair, a young intern Scott had hired himself. “Guy taking the photo asked if she could remove the cap and face mask, but she said it wasn’t against the rules, and she was right.”
The sound of Lucy clicking her tongue resounded like the hammer of a gun being pulled back. “Punctilious brat, isn’t she? But why the secrecy? This isn’t exactly the place to lay low.”
“That it’s not…” Scott whispered, lost in thought for a moment. “Any info on her trainer journey you could give me?”
“Not without knowing her full name. Sorry, sir.”
Most likely by design on the girl’s part. Scott was sure he could have his people track her down based on appearance and team composition alone, but he didn’t want it to come down to that. “Could you pull up the info on her runs through the Battle Pike?”
“Yeah, I have it right here. I figured you might be interested.”
Before he could ask what the man meant by that, he switched into that particular screen, and both Scott and Lucy’s eyes went wide at what they saw. Each challenge the girl had made to the Battle Pike was carefully documented. Yet only ten could fit into the screen at a time, so the man started slowly scrolling down in chronological order.
“W-what?” Lucy’s voice thinned, like she was about to choke. “Is this a joke?”
Each attempt had little pixel illustrations for the three Pokemon used, and if a challenger got through the attempt without using one of them, it was replaced with a closed Pokeball instead. And to their astonishment, most if not almost all of the attempts showed only one Pokemon, an Alakazam. Her second Pokemon was scarcely present across the board, and…
“Out of the two-hundred and fifty-five attempts, the girl’s only had to pull out her second Pokemon, a Snorlax, twenty-three times. Mostly during the first few days she attempted the Pike,” the man recounted. “She’s never been forced to use her third Pokemon, and she refused to disclose what it was.”
Another thing to tell the guys to fix later , a small part of Scott thought, but the majority of him was focusing on another matter entirely. Oh, he could feel it. That spark, that faint whiff of opportunity, the bare thread that could only be caught the moment it went through the eye of the needle, and could only be seen by the trained eye…
Excitement ran through him, little jolts of electricity that tugged at the edges of his smile. But no, not yet. Before he could even consider it, he had to make sure.
“Do you… have any footage of her battles?” he asked, trying to keep it off his voice. He patted the man’s shoulder. “Give me a juicy one.”
“Uh-sure. Here, let’s see…”
The man pulled up a video of the girl’s fight with one of their many hired battle specialists, showing a battle between her Alakazam and a fierce-looking Ninetales, wisps of blue flames and arcs of psionic energy bouncing off every wall of the room.
And for the next minute, all three watched in complete silence, awe and shock draining into their faces, and in Lucy’s case, also anger. By the time the battle was over and the video finished, she looked on the verge of throwing something across the room.
“She’s that good… and still she refuses to fight me!?” Lucy demanded, making the man on the chair scoot a few inches away from her. “That’s even worse!”
But Scott knew there was another reason for her anger. During the video, there’d been a moment in which the two of them exchanged a quick look, and Lucy realized exactly what he was thinking, what he was planning. And it was clear she took great offense to it. Even if she couldn’t deny it was a good idea.
“Well,” said Scott, unable to keep the glee of his voice. “I think that decides it. Lucy, let’s go tell the others they’ve got a special appointment tomorrow. Brandon especially.”
The next day, five of the Frontier leaders were assembled on the stands of the yet-to-be unveiled Battle Tower arena, built at the very top of the tallest tower in the island. Above, past the open vaulted ceiling, they could see dark clouds slowly encroach from all directions, thin threads of lightning illuminating the depths every once in a while.
The group of trainers were looking down at Brandon and Scott, who patiently waited for their guest to appear. Noland was the only one sitting down, fingers anxiously flicking open and closed an old steel lighter. Lucy stood firm with her arms folded, one finger impatiently tapping against her bicep. The others looked more amused than anything else.
“You really think she’s got a chance against Brandon?” asked Greta, the shortest and youngest of them. “I mean, Scott’s got those instincts right? That’s why he chose me.”
Noland hmmed. “Maybe. Even a working clock gets it wrong once in a while.”
“That’s not how the saying goes,” Lucy whispered.
“You’re right, Noland. He ended up hiring you after all, didn’t he?” Tucker chimed in, shining the man a teasing smile.
“And I still have a higher win-rate than you, peacock.”
“I’m sure it’s easier to win when the other guy is forced to use Pokemon that are not-”
Before their bickering could escalate further, Greta snuck behind them and flicked them both in the ear, earning grunts of pain from both men as they recoiled from her. Spenser, who had been silent until now, couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s enough, both of you!”
“Yeah, shut it,” Lucy said. “Look, the brat’s here.”
Everyone’s eyes instantly went to the door on the other side of the arena, where someone had appeared. The first thought that struck them was that the girl looked even shorter than she’d seemed in her entry form, and the second was that one couldn’t look more inconspicuously conspicuous if they’d tried. Black cap, face-mask and jacket combined with constantly looking around like she was gonna get in trouble, they had to wonder if she really was that bad at lying low.
She walked up all the way to where Scott and Brandon were, and looked each of them in the eye once before glancing down and speaking. Her voice was firm, but quiet.
“Um-hi.” There was a moment of silence. “What is it?”
Brandon raised a judging eyebrow, looking like he was about to tear into the girl for her manners, but Scott spoke up first.
“Anabel! I’m glad you made it here; my name is Scott, I guess you could say I’m the guy in charge of making sure this place runs smoothly.” He grabbed the wire of his glasses with two fingers, pushing them up with a smile. “I’m guessing you got my message from the receptionist at the Battle Pike?”
Lines of concern showed under the girl’s eyes. She looked from Brandon to Scott. “Yes… I was told I couldn’t challenge it again until I… came here and talked to you. I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” she suddenly said, defiant. “I played by the rules of-”
Scott raised a placating hand, trying to soothe the girl, who seemed to be getting more nervous by the second. He was sure Brandon’s constantly sour expression didn’t help.
“Oh, nonono! You’re not in trouble, not at all,” Scott hurried to reassure her. “And though some of my staff might want to have a word with you about your methods later, I called you here for something else. To talk with you, first of all.”
Anabel’s shoulders relaxed, but not much. “Okay,” she whispered. “What?”
It was Brandon’s turn to speak. “Scott here… Tells me you’ve successfully gone through the Battle Pike over two-hundred times, and without using more than two Pokemon so far.” His eyes narrowed, a grim expression falling over his face. “Talent aside, it’s clear you’re trying to gather as many Battle Points as possible.”
At least one person in the arena other than Scott must’ve facepalmed, seeing Anabel shrink into herself at the accusation. He decided to intervene before she got any more nervous.
“Which is no small feat! I saw your battles, they were very impressive,” he said. “I’m curious though, how many more points do you need, exactly? You haven’t used a single one so far.”
Anabel blinked, then looked down, thinking long before speaking. “Um. Today was going to be the last day. I almost have as much as I need.”
Ah, lucky me .
“That’s perfect then!” Scott happily clapped his hands together. “Listen Anabel, here at the Battle Frontier we support trainers’ freedom to tackle our challenges however they see fit, so you’re more than free to give the Battle Pike one last round of tries. Or…” His smile exacerbated further. “...You can instead take part in one singular, no holds-barred Pokemon battle, and if you win you’ll get as many Battle Points as you want, as well as a once in a lifetime opportunity! How’s that sound?”
Though surprise was clear in the girl’s eyes, her quick glance at Brandon and then at the audience she’d only just noticed told Scott she was quick on the uptake. When she replied, her voice was less confused, more cautious.
“...I have to fight him?” she whispered. “The head of the Battle Pyramid?”
Brief surprise flashed across Brandon’s eyes. “So you do know who I am.”
She didn’t bother to reply, studying the man with her eyes instead, then moving them toward the belt full of Pokeballs tied around his waist. Her eyes narrowed.
“I just have to beat him? That’s all?”
Her nonchalance was like a slap to the face to Brandon, who clicked his tongue dangerously. Scott had to stop himself from laughing, and over in the stands, Tucker had failed spectacularly at the same.
“That’s all,” Scott said. “Are you up for-?”
He stopped mid-sentence, as Anabel had already produced a Greatball from her belt, not a shred of hesitation anywhere on her. She held the grim weight of Brandon’s gaze effortlessly, which was more impressive than anything he’d seen of her yet.
“I guess that’s a yes,” he said. “Now, if both challengers would take their place…”
As expected, what emerged from the burst of light on Anabel’s side of the arena was her trusted Alakazam, who took one look around and glanced over his shoulder at her, absentmindedly spinning his spoons in between his fingers.
“We’re facing a different challenge today.” Despite her quiet tone, Anabel’s voice was easily carried thanks to the acoustics of the arena. “Pokemon battle, three versus three. I don’t think it’ll be as easy as before; you’ll have to give it your all, Daisuke.”
Her suspicions were immediately proved correct, as what emerged from Brandon’s Ultraball was enough to paint the first look of shock upon what little could be seen on Anabel’s face. She recoiled back, gasping.
“What?”
The creature was twice as tall as its trainer, made of a brilliant, bulbous shell of pure metal which was split at the top, revealing a darker, harder core with seven blinking dots, one in the middle and six forming a circle around it, like eyes. Its arms were thinner, but by the looks of them, no less solid.
“Registeel…” Anabel mouthed the name with utter confusion, her eyes going from the titan to the man controlling it. “How is he…? No, there’s something wrong. It looks different than in the books I read. Hm.” She grumbled to herself, raising a hand forward. “Daisuke, stay on edge. We’ll poke and probe until we can find an angle of attack..”
On the other side of the arena Brandon did the same, his voice echoing, decisive and hard as the steel forming his Pokemon’s body.
“Registeel, it falls to us to serve as an impenetrable wall once more,” he said. “Fight uninhibited. Do not give your opponent time to react.”
A series of skin-crawling whirring sounds emerged from somewhere within the creature’s body as the dots on its face blinked on and off, and it immediately threw itself at Alakazam, with speed that by all means it shouldn’t have had.
Yet while Registeel was an immovable, unstoppable wall, Daisuke was like smoke filtering through one’s fingers, his advantage in speed and near-prescient instincts allowing him to dodge every one of the creature’s swipes, its metallic arms suddenly bursting with energy, becoming sharper like claws. When it finally thought it’d stricken him, all its fingers met were a column of light instead, self-replicating all throughout the arena in the image of his opponent, as though he’d multiplied himself a hundredfold.
“Pah.” Brandon scoffed, eyes narrowing. “A child’s strategy. Registeel, Lock o-”
“Daisuke; mists.”
Anabel’s use of code-words delayed Brandon and his Pokemon’s reactions long enough for Alakazam to do his thing. At once, his after-images moved in unison, raising both arms to the side and coating their left hand with swirling, chilling cold and their right with a bursting mantle of flames. Then, they slammed their fists together, and an explosion of mist overtook the entire arena, spreading quickly, swallowing both Pokemon in its path.
“Registeel!” Brandon groaned, raising a hand and squinting through the pearly clouds. “Locate him, then grab him so he can’t keep running!”
His words, combined with the way Registeel turned to look at the real Alakazam without hesitation, told Anabel all she needed. So his sight doesn’t work like that of most Pokemon, she thought. It’s not thermal, or the mist should’ve confused it. Electromagnetic? It makes the most sense with what I’ve read. But it still needs to turn its head toward its target…
Like a machine, the behemoth’s blinking lights cut through the mists in sharp, calculated patterns, moving from one illusory copy to the next, trying to lock-on to the real one. Inside the mists, Alakazam noticed that it never set its sight on the same one twice, despite them constantly moving around.
Just a matter of time then , Anabel clicked her tongue, then spoke: “Disable!”
Up and behind Registeel, standing upon a pane of psychic energy floating in the air, Daisuke pointed at it with one spoon, releasing a disrupting wave that made the creature keel forward and whirr painfully with a sound like nails on chalkboard. The blinking lights on its face momentarily turned off.
“There you are,” Brandon whispered. “Registeel, he can only stop you as long as he keeps the spoon pointed at you.” Besides, he can only use one arm in the meantime , he thought. “Steel Claw!”
Turning its whole body at an alarming speed, Registeel lowered its legs for just a moment before jumping at Daisuke like a bullet, slashing at him with strength as though his arm had been strongly coiled.
Yet once again, all its fingers met were dancing lights.
Brandon’s eyes widened. Was the Alakazam he’d seen launch the attack not the real one? Was that also an illusion?
He heard Anabel’s voice from the other side of the arena. She sounded offended. “All he needs is one arm.”
And what appeared to be one of Alakazam’s illusory copies jumped behind its opponent as it hovered defenseless in the air, one hand pointing a spoon at it, keeping up the Disable, and the other bursting into flames before slamming into the back of its head with enough force to produce a sound like that of a gong.
For the next minute and a half, Brandon had to contain his irritation and admit inwardly that he’d underestimated his opponent.
Despite knowing that a single hit is all it’d take to bring down a creature as fragile as that Alakazam, his Registeel had been stopped cold in its tracks, over and over again, and pummeled with punch after flaming punch, all the while the Disable remained active, so Registeel couldn’t even lock-on to land a direct hit.
Speedsters were often too confident on said speed, to the detriment of everything else, but Anabel and her Alakazam were different. They’d identified their losing condition, and had worked to nullify it as fast as possible while slowly racking up damage. The level of skill and finesse it took Alakazam to maintain both the swarm of illusory clones as well as the Disable, while still being able to attack and get out of the way before retaliation was only one half of the reason the battle tipped in his favor. Without Anabel’s quick thinking, it would’ve served little purpose.
Brandon gritted his teeth. Though Alakazam’s level of focus was quickly tiring him, Registeel couldn’t hold on for much longer, his whole body steaming with heat, a few dents already visible on its surface. Brandon could tell when it was time to cut his losses. The next time he saw Alakazam materialize behind his Pokemon, he shouted:
“Catch it!”
At first, neither Anabel nor Daisuke understood the order. The Alakazam simply saw his opponent tip its head like it wanted to head-butt him, and jumped back just enough to counter with a devastating Fire Punch, which connected.
Except it connected too well. Unbeknownst to him, Registeel hadn’t tried to attack, but instead met the punch in the exact same spot as the previous one, where its metal was still hot and softened. The moment Alakazam punched it, its knuckles and a good portion of his hand sank into the outer shell, trapping him.
“Daisuke!”
The moment of hesitation as he wondered whether to drop the Disable in order to break free was enough to seal his fate. Too weakened to do anything else, Registeel’s whole body burst with a blinding light, and the next a devastating explosion tore through the arena, lifting a cloud of dust that swallowed all in its path, even the spectators.
Anabel waited for the dust to clear, a grumble rising from her chest to her throat. She was disappointed in herself for not seeing that coming, and flinched uncomfortably at the sight of her Alakazam in such bad shape once she finally set eyes on him. She returned him to his ball, gripping it with slightly more force than usual, and Brandon did the same with his own.
“You seem cross,” Brandon said. He wasn’t trying to get a rise out of her, it was a simple observation.
“...It’s a legitimate strategy,” was Anabel’s reply. “Even then… I expected more.”
Brandon scoffed. “I’ll say. For someone who recognized the Regis, you sure reacted quickly to my partner.”
“It’s because I knew,” Anabel spat out. “But it wasn’t at full power, was it? It was smaller than the books described. The Regis draw strength from the life-force of their awakener, so if it had been giving the fight its all, you should be a prune of a corpse right now.”
There it was, that kind of impetous anger that was all too common to young cocky trainers. Only this girl seemed to have the skill to back it up, annoyingly enough.
“Are you saying I went easy on you?”
“I’m saying it’s no fun fighting with a dull blade,” she replied, blunt as the steel she’d just conquered. “I expect more of your next Pokemon.”
One corner of Brandon’s lips quirked up, letting out a laugh like the click of a lighter. He raised and pressed a hand against his forehead and his next laugh came harder, louder, a vociferous and intimidating sound. Yet it had little effect on Anabel.
“Fine, if that’s what you want,” he said, producing another ball from his belt. “Come forth!”
In the moment before light erupted, Anabel’s eyes caught a purple glint off the top of the ball, as well as the symbol of an M, and her eyes widened even before she saw the massive creature that erupted from within.
“Agh!”
The wave of heat was immediate and scathing, washing over her, stinging her eyes and drying her throat. She had to raise a hand to protect herself, her foot sliding a few inches back. Yet the heat paled to the sight that met her as she squinted through her fingers. Concentrated tongues of flame licking a massive avian form; flaming wings and fireworks of red and purple and pink spiraling around its entire body, an unquenchable fire, and wings to deliver it upon all it sought to incinerate.
Brandon very much enjoyed the look on the girl’s face in Moltres’ presence. Even if it would have been petty to admit it.
“How are you planning to answer?” he asked, raising a hand forward. “With that Snorlax I’ve heard about, maybe?”
“...Incredible,” Anabel whispered, barely hearing him. “So the books were right; the young ones do migrate to other regions. Ha…”
Blinking back to reality, she smiled and took a step back, her eyes meeting Brandon’s again. Yet she didn’t reach for a Pokeball. Instead, she raised one hand high toward the sky, as though she intended to call down thunder with her willpower alone.
“What are you doing?” Brandon frowned.
“Fujiko doesn’t like being stuck in a ball,” was Anabel’s answer. “Sorry I lied before. But she would have showed up if I called; she’s taking a ride right now.”
Before Brandon could ask her to elaborate, everyone in the arena heard the crackling of lightning above, and all looked up at the same time, noticing the unnatural flashes across the darkened sky. Up in the stands, Scott laughed.
“We weren’t scheduled for a storm today, were we?” Tucker asked.
“Oh this is just too good,” Scott whispered to himself.
In the next instant, all in the arena but Scott and Anabel were blinded as a pillar of light and electricity cut the sky in half, slamming in front of the young trainer, pushing dust down and outwards, raising a large cloud.
The tables had been turned, and now it was Brandon whose eyes were wide, unable to believe the sight of one of the legendary beasts themselves, Raikou, appearing from within the storm for the sole purpose of challenging him. Behind her, though he could not know for certain, he was sure Anabel was smiling.
It wasn’t just the type disadvantage that did Moltres in, and that was the most frustrating part about it. It was, instead, the weakness in Brandon’s battling style staring him in the face.
Even he had to admit that he was more of a collector than a fighter. He had earned his companionship with the three winged mirages due to his extensive knowledge of their migration patterns, his unrelenting perseverance in hunting them and their own respect toward him for pulling it off. Even so, all three were quite young, less than half a century, which was but a drop in the bucket of their species’ natural lifespan. So while their power output was commendable, their experience in battle left something to be desired.
That, combined with his inability to make full use of the three Regis’ power, meant that Brandon wasn’t as powerful a trainer as one would first think. His team and battling style were somewhat gimmick-y. And most of his advantage came from the intimidation factor of having to face beings of legend.
So Anabel pulling out a Raikou in response was… to put it bluntly, the last nail in the coffin of the fight. He saw the signs as early as the first move, and when Moltres dropped to the ground, completely spent, with his own opponent only winded… He knew he was trying to stop rain from falling with his hands, but he had his pride too. For the girl’s sake if nothing else, it was a battle he had to see through to the end.
Out came Articuno, Brandon’s oldest and strongest Pokemon, and with a combination of Hail, Snow Cloak and plenty of Ice Beams, she did eventually emerge victorious, although in not a favorable condition for repeating the feat. And when Anabel’s last Pokemon came out, a Snorlax which made the ground shake with every step, Brandon knew it was over. A desperate Sheer Cold was the last they could do, and the attempt fell through his fingers, soon followed by victory itself.
At the very least, Anabel did seem like a hundred pounds of weight dropped off her shoulders when she saw Articuno fall. Her hand jittered as she raised her Snorlax’ ball.
“...Thank you, Koichi. You did amazing.”
Thankfully, Brandon was given the time it took for Scott and the rest to get down from the stands to steel himself after such a blunt defeat, which was more than enough. He was an adult, for fuck’s sake. The last thing he was going to do was embarrass himself in front of his… let’s face it, most likely new boss.
“It was a good fight,” he declared once he reached her, offering his hand for her to shake. “Even knowing most of your team beforehand, there was little I could do.”
Anabel blinked, putting the ball back in her belt and tentatively reciprocating the handshake, her eyes moving from him to the group of trainers approaching. There was no more nervousness in her expression, though. If he had to guess, the battle had dispelled it.
“...Thanks,” she muttered, then forced herself to add: “Um, sorry for the trash talk before. I get… It slips out sometimes, when I’m in the… heat of battle.”
“Ha. I’d like to say I’ve heard worse, but few can muster the balls to speak like that in the presence of my Pokemon. Not to toot my own horn as the loser, though.” He huffed, then glanced down at her belt. “I’m surprised. It’s my first time seeing such a young trainer with a Raikou.”
“Fujiko’s… She and I met when we were young. We grew up together,” she suddenly said, a smile forming underneath the mask. “I was surprised too. I’ve always wanted to see the winged mirages in person. Do… Do the others also have legend-class Pokemon?”
“Tucker and Spenser do,” he said, raising a thumb over his shoulder. “Though Tucker’s is quite young, not yet used to battle. I’m sure you’ll get to know them plenty soon enough.”
Unsurprisingly, Anabel looked like she was going to ask him to elaborate, but the rest caught up to them before she could, and as usual Scott burst into the conversation with his easy smile and inability to respect personal space, laughing and slapping a hand on the girl’s shoulder like a close friend, which instantly made her recoil.
“Anabel, Anabel, Anabel!” he exclaimed ecstatically, the lines of his smile clear even through the edges of his sunglasses. “That was incredible! As promised, you can have all the Battle Points you want within reason, and beyond that…”
He took a step back and spread his arms magnanimously, all six of his Frontier leaders taking point behind him.
“...I can only hope you’ll make me even happier by confirming something. Are you, by any chance, looking for a job right now?”
As Scott should’ve expected, it took a while for Anabel to come to terms with what she’d unknowingly walked herself into. There was panic at first. The kind that had been completely absent from her battle, but felt all too real in the presence of a possible piece of her future being solidified so suddenly.
Thankfully, the rest of the Frontier leaders were there to pick up the slack, and talk her down from the panic attack the girl seemed to be on the verge of having. Well, it was mostly Spenser and Greta who helped with that. The rest weren’t any more socially… able than Anabel, to put it bluntly. And Lucy kept staring at her with those scary eyes of hers, to make the matter worse. Still. Eventually, they did get her to actually consider the proposal, and the very real weight of its reality stunned her for almost a full minute.
“A-and… I would live here?” she asked, voice fainter than ever, yet also hopeful. “I’d have to… test trainers every day?”
Tucker laughed. “Only those worthy enough to reach you, darling. But yes, it would be up to you to stop them in their tracks, or give away your badge should you lose.”
“That’s not all the job has to offer, or to demand from you, however.” Spenser explained. “As the head of the Battle Frontier, it would be your job to represent us as a whole.”
“And I’m sure you’d need some training on top of that,” Scott said. “But hey, you’ve already met the hardest requirements, I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to acclimate to the job. I can see it in you.”
Anabel looked down, closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her temple, trying to calm her breathing. “O-okay. You’re throwing a lot at me.” She breathed in deeply. “I…”
She looked up at Scott, and in those pale pink eyes of hers he saw a sudden fear and desperation not even her face mask could hide. It caught him off guard.
“And… how independent would I be? In general.”
“I-I’m sorry?”
He could swear he heard her curse under her breath, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “The… If the League, or if someone else… Someone with money wanted to use me-I mean my… Use my image or my title for their purposes. Could I refuse?”
It was a strange enough question that Scott found himself without words for a second, and more than a few quizzical glances were exchanged behind him. Then a thought struck him. A single letter, the girl’s second initial: R .
“Is this a family concern, may I ask?”
Her eyes darted off of him. “I live with my grandparents. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I… Fair enough. Yes, of course, I would never pressure any of my Frontier leaders to be part of something they’re not comfortable with,” he reassured her. “Besides, we already got all the sponsors we could dream of! Not to mention you would be the official head of the Battle Frontier, the queen of its Battle Tower. No one would be able to force you into anything.”
“Oh…”
And with that breath leaving her lips, as she cast her head down again in thought, the reality of her situation seemed to finally dawn on her, a set of brilliant good news like a rare blood disorder. And she laughed. Just a chuckle, but enough to make her cover her mouth, despite the fact she was wearing a mask. And when she looked up at the lot of them again, one by one, seeing in them her future coworkers, she could barely contain her giddiness.
“I… I think I’d like to give it a try, yeah.”
With that, it was like a barrier breaking down between the two groups. Greta and Tucker whooed in celebration, and more than a few pairs of hands patted the girl’s back welcomingly, all the while she nodded and laughed dorkily in an attempt to hide her awkwardness and happiness. Congratulations all around, yes, save for one person.
Lucy only approached when the rest were done with their introductions, and her presence alone chilled the air and killed all conversation. Everyone made way for her. And when her eyes and Anabel’s met, it was the younger girl for once that sunk into herself.
“...As head of the Battle Frontier, I sincerely hope you will treat the job with more respect that you treated my facility,” she said plainly. “You followed the rules, yes, but you did not engage with the challenge in its intended spirit. I hope you understand that.”
“I…”
Distraught was the only word to describe the emotion in the girl’s eyes. She hung her head, ashamed, and tried mouthing off an apology, nervousness clogging up her throat. Thankfully, Lucy spoke again, breaking the ice of her own accord with a smile that not even Scott expected.
“...However, should you want to correct your mistake, a Pokemon battle will be a more than suitable apology,” she said, and extended her hand toward Anabel. “And a welcome loss on your part, of course. I don’t intend to make the same mistakes as Brandon.”
With that -and at least 90% of the awkwardness- out of the way, there was only one further matter to resolve: that of Anabel’s original reason for coming to the Battle Frontier.
As promised, Scott gave her another hundred BP and accompanied her to the exchange station, as did everyone else, far too curious on what she’d spent so much time and energy trying to gain. To be honest, Scott wasn’t sure himself as to the full extent of the prizes. He’d hired someone else for that, and had forgotten to give it a looksie until now.
So his and the others’ surprise was understandable, when Anabel headed to the counter to exchange her points and was soon presented with plushie after plushie, all of them of Pokemon and each one bigger and more impressive than the last. The last four -a Lapras, a Charizard, a Venusaur and a Blastoise- were taller than Anabel and at least five times as wide, made with such care and expertise that they could be nothing but collector items. Everyone’s jaws dropped at the sight, clearly unaware that they were giving out these things.
“Is…?” Scott cleared his throat, his voice suddenly hard to find. “Are these what you… wanted?”
Anabel shook her head, barely able to contain her excitement. “Not these, specifically. There’s two decorations, eight small plushies and five big ones, but there’s one of the five… One that you can only get if you already claimed all the rest. And to do that, I needed one-thousand five-hundred and thirty-six points…”
H-how many!? Scott screamed in his head, and he was pretty sure the same thought ran through the others’ heads. Sure they’re big, but who the hell was in charge of setting those prices!?
“...All so I could get…”
But Anabel was cut off, as the last and largest of the plushies was finally, laboriously pushed through the back door and deposited in front of her. And the girl couldn’t help herself. A sharp, ecstatic screech escaped her lips, and without thinking she threw herself on top of the life-sized Snorlax plushie, sinking into his stomach, kicking her feet and giggling as she hugged it tight.
“Yesss, haha! It’s even softer and cuter than I'd thought! Ohh you're never getting away; I'm gonna keep you and hug you and kiss you until the day I die!!”
While she remained drunk with glee, the rest of them -including the receptionists and a few of the trainers inside the building- stared gormlessly at her, unsure of what to say. All the way in the back, Brandon hid his face in his hands and sat himself down on one of the nearby chairs, sighing.
Beside him, Scott laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You okay there, pal?”
“...Yes,” he breathed out. “Just… you know. Coming to terms with the fact that’s the girl who kicked my ass.”
Scott looked back at the giggly Anabel, and smiled. “At least you're getting used to the feeling.”
Scott has been desperately searching a trainer worthy enough to lead his Battle Frontier, all the while its grand unveiling hovers ever closer.
Anabel has come to challenge the facilities with a singular purpose in mind and three of the strongest Pokemon in Hoenn at her command. Come hell or high water, she's getting what she came here for.
Occam's Razor dictates that one plus one usually amounts to two.
Author Notes
I was very much hit with the Anabel plot bunnies even though I definitely have other stories to write first, so I decided to write a One-shot about how she got to be the Frontier Brain and leave it at that for now. Still, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hopefully it'll be fun to read too. And as a bonus, here's a cover I drew of the fic because I was bored:
I'm Taking Back the Crown
Out of all the uncharitable ways Scott had been described by other people, his favorite was still the one uttered by a good friend when he was just starting out in this business:
He’s a real ‘I know a guy’ type of guy.
It remained true to this day. Eleven years it had taken him, starting out as a simple recruiter assistant for Devon Co.’s technological research wing, and slowly working his way not up the ladder but sideways instead, jumping from one venture to a much grander next one; amassing contacts, experience and funds until finally, nothing stood in the way of his dream. Until the building blocks upon which his ultimate project would be built rested at his feet, until he finally stood upon a game board of his own making, beautiful and unlike anything Hoenn had ever seen.
After that, all he needed was to amass his pieces. And that’s where his unparalleled talent at networking came in.
Scott had brought many teams together, each comprised of the perfect candidates for whatever the project called for. But this was different. Talent was not hard to find in Hoenn, and the process had only gotten easier the more colleagues and friends he met along the way, but gathering qualified employees was one thing.
Gathering a group of seven Champion-level trainers, each specializing in their own flavor of mastery, was quite another.
And yet, he was so close to succeeding. Familiar words came to mind, the sensation of a pat on the back from his previous -and last- boss and words spoken with a mix of sadness and pride, following his last triumph before embarking on his own voyage.
I ask the impossible, Scott, and you deliver. I’ll be sad to see you go, buddy.
The Battle Frontier had been Scott’s dream ever since he was a child, a dream that had evolved in scope and complexity with the years, for he was nothing if not a perfectionist. Rationalizations had come at some point after the initial dream as well. He knew that the League, important though it was to the landscape of Hoenn, was not truly a place to test the best of the best.
Yes, young trainers were encouraged to challenge the Gyms, grow stronger and -should they make it to the end- challenge the Elite Four and the Champion in an attempt to win the title. But it was also a form of filtering by the League, a way for them to find and hire promising trainers for whatever they needed at the time. An enterprise which met its purpose, yes.
But what of those who truly wanted to test themselves? Those who’d already conquered all eight strongholds of Hoenn, those who wanted more than a simple battle and a title? That’s where Scott’s Battle Frontier came in.
In his own words, it was a true gauntlet. A place for those who believed themselves to have reached their pinnacle to learn how big the world truly was, and be either broken or forged into something stronger amidst the flames of the seven crucibles the Battle Frontier offered. And what a tempting offer it was, especially for his sponsors. He’d even received kudos and promises of future patronage by the new Champion of Sinnoh herself, which was high praise.
Already, six of the seven were assembled and in full working condition. As a matter of fact, the Battle Frontier itself had been up and running in limited capacity for over a month, though only to those with beta-tester privileges. Its true unveiling would only occur once Scott found the head upon which the crown of Frontier Brain would sit.
Which… truthfully, even with Scott’s considerable talent, was taking longer than he’d intended.
He’d given himself a time-limit, as with every other project, and its deadline tightened ever closer around his neck with every day that passed. Should he fail to find the right trainer, Brandon would take the spot by default. And while the man was an incredible trainer on his own, and more than qualified to be a Champion, he clearly much preferred to man the Battle Pyramid.
And… to be honest, he wasn’t exactly what Scott was looking for. The man was a worthy trainer and natural-born leader, yes, but was he fit to be the leader of the Battle Frontier? The final barrier to overcome on one’s way to the pinnacle of training?
Neither of them thought so, and so the search continued. The hands of the clock ticked onward, hovering ever closer to his deadline.
“Scott, I don’t know how else to rephrase anymore that you’re overthinking things.”
Lucy’s straightforwardness was as refreshing as usual. For a second there, he thought she might’ve not heard a word he said, lazily sprawled on her throne within the depths of the Battle Pike, one leg resting over the other, gaze lost in the golden gleam of the coin she spun between her fingers. But he should’ve known better.
“There’s no way to arrange the deck from the start that will guarantee your preferred outcome a hundred percent of the time,” she chided him. “Brandon is a good candidate. So is Spenser. You have options to fall back on.”
A sigh left the man’s lips. He sat on a chair opposite to Lucy’s, fanning himself with a copy of the Battle Frontier pamphlet. Hoenn was warm enough as is, but Lucy really liked cranking the thermostat up, for some ungodly reason.
“Spenser outright refused already,” he complained. “And Brandon… Well, he said he’d accept if it came to that, but it’s clear he’d rather someone else hold the title. And honestly, neither of them-”
“Fit the bill of what you had in mind?” Lucy cut him off sharply. “Yes, I’ve heard it a hundred times before. Suck it up. Trainers of our caliber aren't exactly a dime a dozen as is; you won’t find many that aren’t as eccentric.”
Scott scoffed, feigning offense. “Lucy, Please. If eccentricity were an issue, none of you would have jobs,” he said, curling his lips into a joking smile. “No, it’s… something else. I need someone who can lead you all even in my absence. Someone who truly exemplifies the virtues of the Battle Frontier, someone who-”
“Someone who can deal with Tucker so that you don’t have to?”
“I-buh-well, that’s… That’s just a low blow, Lucy.”
A raised eyebrow about as sharp as a Seviper’s tail was all the reply he was given. It was hard to stick to his guns under the weight of that paralyzing glare.
“I think…” Scott spoke slowly, carefully. “...That it would benefit everyone if you guys had someone to answer to other than me.”
Lucy breathed deeply, throwing the coin upwards and catching it, gripping it tightly with frustration. “You’re ridiculous, both of you. It’s been three months since you broke up.”
“We haven’t actually-”
“So nut up and go ask him how he feels!” Finally, the outburst of anger she’d been trying to keep down exploded out of her, and she slammed the hand holding the coin down onto the armrest of her chair. The sudden weight behind her voice sent a shiver down Scott’s spine. “I’m sick of hearing about this from both of you! Either fold or play, stop being so fucking indecisive!”
Despite having weathered countless powerful personalities at his previous job sites, there was something about Lucy’s anger that even he couldn’t remain unflinching against. Maybe the fact that she was so direct, so… stabbingly honest. Though even then…
“You… seem cross,” he said carefully. “More than usual, I mean. Is everything alright, Lucy?”
Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I-I’m not, honest! I’m just worried that-”
Before he could make a case for himself, the tall, thick crimson curtains hiding Lucy’s room from view were forcefully opened up, and through them stepped in one of the receptionists working at the Pike’s lobby. The poor woman seemed to wither at Lucy’s glare, but she spoke up regardless.
“M-Miss Lucy, you told me to… To inform you when the challenger, um…”
Like a spring, Lucy shot up from her throne and walked down the small staircase, meeting the woman eye to eye, expectant yet already frustrated. Scott frowned. So whatever this was must be why…
“Well?” she asked, folding her arms. “What is it?”
“The challenger… Just like before, she reached the end of the Battle Pike and then… forfeited. She’s gone now.”
Lucy’s eyes widened, to the point they couldn’t see the red and black mascara outlining them anymore. Her fingers dug into the skin of her arms, and her nostrils flared with anger. Danger signs. Flashes of lightning before the crack of thunder.
“Leave.” As soon as that word was uttered, the receptionist quickly bowed and closed the curtains behind her, her footsteps echoing through the hallway as she left. “Scott… As my good friend, I need you to do me a solid and stop me from killing a teenager.”
From anyone else, that would’ve sounded like a joke. But Scott could see the vein pulsing on Lucy’s temple, and smelled danger in the air.
“Whoa-Okay, deep breaths.” He stood up from his chair, getting in between her and the exit. “No killing anyone, that’s bad for PR. Mind telling me what this is about, instead?”
Eyes closed tight, Lucy raised a shaking fist as though she were going to slam it against the wall, but stopped at the last second, forcing herself to take a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, the fury behind them had lowered to a controlled simmer.
“There’s this… challenger. This brat ,” she spat the word out like a mouthful of poison. “She’s been coming to the Battle Pike every day… for the past two weeks. Challenging my facility over and over , and every single time, right before having to face me… She forfeits!”
She couldn’t keep how offensive she found it any longer, swiping at the air with one hand. Yet Scott was more intrigued than worried over the safety of this strange challenger now, the spark of opportunity coming alive inside his head.
“Every day… for two weeks, you say.” He brought a hand to his chin and looked down, contemplatively. “And how many rounds a day would you say she does?”
Lucy scoffed. “I don’t know, over a dozen at least. Why? What does that have to do with-?”
That’s all it took for the dots to connect. She paused, quickly did the math inside her head, and that managed to make her even angrier, if such a thing was possible. Scott could hear the creaking of her fingers stabbing into the leather of her gloves from afar.
“...It would be just enough to earn the daily limit of Battle Points,” she hissed. “Seventeen rounds; even without facing me at the end that makes for a hundred points!”
Scott nodded. “A hundred a day, for over two weeks… Whew boy, that’s nearly fifteen hundred Battle Points! I’d say we need to limit the daily amount even further, but I don’t see many trainers being able to go through seventeen rounds of any of our facilities daily.”
“That’s why I told you we needed to challenge them even before that,” Lucy said. “One challenge in the middle of the gauntlet, another one at the end!”
“Yes… we might have to overhaul that particular quirk of the frontier,” he said, smiling apologetically. “But that’s not the problem, Lucy. Don’t you see? We have under our noses a trainer capable of a feat like this… What are we doing just sitting around!?”
“W-what?”
And with a burst of energy that surprised even the queen of the Battle Pike, Scott threw open the curtains behind him and formed a smile like that of a child about to open a present. He could barely contain his excitement.
“I wanna learn more about this mysterious trainer of yours,” he said. “Do you wanna come with?”
Due to Scott’s placed importance on records and information-keeping, it was relatively simple to find the identity of the girl who’d been tormenting Lucy for weeks. A quick trip to HQ and a talk with the in-house data analyst and they had the name of their culprit.
“Anabel R., huh? I didn’t think you could put an initial as your last name; gonna have to tell the guys to fix that later.”
Scott and Lucy looked at the screen over the data analyst’s shoulder, reading the entry form the girl had filled before being allowed to participate in the Battle Frontier. Unsurprisingly, many of the fields were empty; most of it boiled down to her being seventeen and a native of Kanto, though she currently lived in Hoenn. As for the girl’s appearance, it was hard to pin anything other than she was pale, young and had light purple hair, due to the face mask and cap she wore to conceal most of her face.
“Yeah, looks like she only filled as much of the form as was absolutely necessary,” said the man in the chair, a young intern Scott had hired himself. “Guy taking the photo asked if she could remove the cap and face mask, but she said it wasn’t against the rules, and she was right.”
The sound of Lucy clicking her tongue resounded like the hammer of a gun being pulled back. “Punctilious brat, isn’t she? But why the secrecy? This isn’t exactly the place to lay low.”
“That it’s not…” Scott whispered, lost in thought for a moment. “Any info on her trainer journey you could give me?”
“Not without knowing her full name. Sorry, sir.”
Most likely by design on the girl’s part. Scott was sure he could have his people track her down based on appearance and team composition alone, but he didn’t want it to come down to that. “Could you pull up the info on her runs through the Battle Pike?”
“Yeah, I have it right here. I figured you might be interested.”
Before he could ask what the man meant by that, he switched into that particular screen, and both Scott and Lucy’s eyes went wide at what they saw. Each challenge the girl had made to the Battle Pike was carefully documented. Yet only ten could fit into the screen at a time, so the man started slowly scrolling down in chronological order.
“W-what?” Lucy’s voice thinned, like she was about to choke. “Is this a joke?”
Each attempt had little pixel illustrations for the three Pokemon used, and if a challenger got through the attempt without using one of them, it was replaced with a closed Pokeball instead. And to their astonishment, most if not almost all of the attempts showed only one Pokemon, an Alakazam. Her second Pokemon was scarcely present across the board, and…
“Out of the two-hundred and fifty-five attempts, the girl’s only had to pull out her second Pokemon, a Snorlax, twenty-three times. Mostly during the first few days she attempted the Pike,” the man recounted. “She’s never been forced to use her third Pokemon, and she refused to disclose what it was.”
Another thing to tell the guys to fix later , a small part of Scott thought, but the majority of him was focusing on another matter entirely. Oh, he could feel it. That spark, that faint whiff of opportunity, the bare thread that could only be caught the moment it went through the eye of the needle, and could only be seen by the trained eye…
Excitement ran through him, little jolts of electricity that tugged at the edges of his smile. But no, not yet. Before he could even consider it, he had to make sure.
“Do you… have any footage of her battles?” he asked, trying to keep it off his voice. He patted the man’s shoulder. “Give me a juicy one.”
“Uh-sure. Here, let’s see…”
The man pulled up a video of the girl’s fight with one of their many hired battle specialists, showing a battle between her Alakazam and a fierce-looking Ninetales, wisps of blue flames and arcs of psionic energy bouncing off every wall of the room.
And for the next minute, all three watched in complete silence, awe and shock draining into their faces, and in Lucy’s case, also anger. By the time the battle was over and the video finished, she looked on the verge of throwing something across the room.
“She’s that good… and still she refuses to fight me!?” Lucy demanded, making the man on the chair scoot a few inches away from her. “That’s even worse!”
But Scott knew there was another reason for her anger. During the video, there’d been a moment in which the two of them exchanged a quick look, and Lucy realized exactly what he was thinking, what he was planning. And it was clear she took great offense to it. Even if she couldn’t deny it was a good idea.
“Well,” said Scott, unable to keep the glee of his voice. “I think that decides it. Lucy, let’s go tell the others they’ve got a special appointment tomorrow. Brandon especially.”
The next day, five of the Frontier leaders were assembled on the stands of the yet-to-be unveiled Battle Tower arena, built at the very top of the tallest tower in the island. Above, past the open vaulted ceiling, they could see dark clouds slowly encroach from all directions, thin threads of lightning illuminating the depths every once in a while.
The group of trainers were looking down at Brandon and Scott, who patiently waited for their guest to appear. Noland was the only one sitting down, fingers anxiously flicking open and closed an old steel lighter. Lucy stood firm with her arms folded, one finger impatiently tapping against her bicep. The others looked more amused than anything else.
“You really think she’s got a chance against Brandon?” asked Greta, the shortest and youngest of them. “I mean, Scott’s got those instincts right? That’s why he chose me.”
Noland hmmed. “Maybe. Even a working clock gets it wrong once in a while.”
“That’s not how the saying goes,” Lucy whispered.
“You’re right, Noland. He ended up hiring you after all, didn’t he?” Tucker chimed in, shining the man a teasing smile.
“And I still have a higher win-rate than you, peacock.”
“I’m sure it’s easier to win when the other guy is forced to use Pokemon that are not-”
Before their bickering could escalate further, Greta snuck behind them and flicked them both in the ear, earning grunts of pain from both men as they recoiled from her. Spenser, who had been silent until now, couldn’t help but chuckle.
“That’s enough, both of you!”
“Yeah, shut it,” Lucy said. “Look, the brat’s here.”
Everyone’s eyes instantly went to the door on the other side of the arena, where someone had appeared. The first thought that struck them was that the girl looked even shorter than she’d seemed in her entry form, and the second was that one couldn’t look more inconspicuously conspicuous if they’d tried. Black cap, face-mask and jacket combined with constantly looking around like she was gonna get in trouble, they had to wonder if she really was that bad at lying low.
She walked up all the way to where Scott and Brandon were, and looked each of them in the eye once before glancing down and speaking. Her voice was firm, but quiet.
“Um-hi.” There was a moment of silence. “What is it?”
Brandon raised a judging eyebrow, looking like he was about to tear into the girl for her manners, but Scott spoke up first.
“Anabel! I’m glad you made it here; my name is Scott, I guess you could say I’m the guy in charge of making sure this place runs smoothly.” He grabbed the wire of his glasses with two fingers, pushing them up with a smile. “I’m guessing you got my message from the receptionist at the Battle Pike?”
Lines of concern showed under the girl’s eyes. She looked from Brandon to Scott. “Yes… I was told I couldn’t challenge it again until I… came here and talked to you. I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” she suddenly said, defiant. “I played by the rules of-”
Scott raised a placating hand, trying to soothe the girl, who seemed to be getting more nervous by the second. He was sure Brandon’s constantly sour expression didn’t help.
“Oh, nonono! You’re not in trouble, not at all,” Scott hurried to reassure her. “And though some of my staff might want to have a word with you about your methods later, I called you here for something else. To talk with you, first of all.”
Anabel’s shoulders relaxed, but not much. “Okay,” she whispered. “What?”
It was Brandon’s turn to speak. “Scott here… Tells me you’ve successfully gone through the Battle Pike over two-hundred times, and without using more than two Pokemon so far.” His eyes narrowed, a grim expression falling over his face. “Talent aside, it’s clear you’re trying to gather as many Battle Points as possible.”
At least one person in the arena other than Scott must’ve facepalmed, seeing Anabel shrink into herself at the accusation. He decided to intervene before she got any more nervous.
“Which is no small feat! I saw your battles, they were very impressive,” he said. “I’m curious though, how many more points do you need, exactly? You haven’t used a single one so far.”
Anabel blinked, then looked down, thinking long before speaking. “Um. Today was going to be the last day. I almost have as much as I need.”
Ah, lucky me .
“That’s perfect then!” Scott happily clapped his hands together. “Listen Anabel, here at the Battle Frontier we support trainers’ freedom to tackle our challenges however they see fit, so you’re more than free to give the Battle Pike one last round of tries. Or…” His smile exacerbated further. “...You can instead take part in one singular, no holds-barred Pokemon battle, and if you win you’ll get as many Battle Points as you want, as well as a once in a lifetime opportunity! How’s that sound?”
Though surprise was clear in the girl’s eyes, her quick glance at Brandon and then at the audience she’d only just noticed told Scott she was quick on the uptake. When she replied, her voice was less confused, more cautious.
“...I have to fight him?” she whispered. “The head of the Battle Pyramid?”
Brief surprise flashed across Brandon’s eyes. “So you do know who I am.”
She didn’t bother to reply, studying the man with her eyes instead, then moving them toward the belt full of Pokeballs tied around his waist. Her eyes narrowed.
“I just have to beat him? That’s all?”
Her nonchalance was like a slap to the face to Brandon, who clicked his tongue dangerously. Scott had to stop himself from laughing, and over in the stands, Tucker had failed spectacularly at the same.
“That’s all,” Scott said. “Are you up for-?”
He stopped mid-sentence, as Anabel had already produced a Greatball from her belt, not a shred of hesitation anywhere on her. She held the grim weight of Brandon’s gaze effortlessly, which was more impressive than anything he’d seen of her yet.
“I guess that’s a yes,” he said. “Now, if both challengers would take their place…”
As expected, what emerged from the burst of light on Anabel’s side of the arena was her trusted Alakazam, who took one look around and glanced over his shoulder at her, absentmindedly spinning his spoons in between his fingers.
“We’re facing a different challenge today.” Despite her quiet tone, Anabel’s voice was easily carried thanks to the acoustics of the arena. “Pokemon battle, three versus three. I don’t think it’ll be as easy as before; you’ll have to give it your all, Daisuke.”
Her suspicions were immediately proved correct, as what emerged from Brandon’s Ultraball was enough to paint the first look of shock upon what little could be seen on Anabel’s face. She recoiled back, gasping.
“What?”
The creature was twice as tall as its trainer, made of a brilliant, bulbous shell of pure metal which was split at the top, revealing a darker, harder core with seven blinking dots, one in the middle and six forming a circle around it, like eyes. Its arms were thinner, but by the looks of them, no less solid.
“Registeel…” Anabel mouthed the name with utter confusion, her eyes going from the titan to the man controlling it. “How is he…? No, there’s something wrong. It looks different than in the books I read. Hm.” She grumbled to herself, raising a hand forward. “Daisuke, stay on edge. We’ll poke and probe until we can find an angle of attack..”
On the other side of the arena Brandon did the same, his voice echoing, decisive and hard as the steel forming his Pokemon’s body.
“Registeel, it falls to us to serve as an impenetrable wall once more,” he said. “Fight uninhibited. Do not give your opponent time to react.”
A series of skin-crawling whirring sounds emerged from somewhere within the creature’s body as the dots on its face blinked on and off, and it immediately threw itself at Alakazam, with speed that by all means it shouldn’t have had.
Yet while Registeel was an immovable, unstoppable wall, Daisuke was like smoke filtering through one’s fingers, his advantage in speed and near-prescient instincts allowing him to dodge every one of the creature’s swipes, its metallic arms suddenly bursting with energy, becoming sharper like claws. When it finally thought it’d stricken him, all its fingers met were a column of light instead, self-replicating all throughout the arena in the image of his opponent, as though he’d multiplied himself a hundredfold.
“Pah.” Brandon scoffed, eyes narrowing. “A child’s strategy. Registeel, Lock o-”
“Daisuke; mists.”
Anabel’s use of code-words delayed Brandon and his Pokemon’s reactions long enough for Alakazam to do his thing. At once, his after-images moved in unison, raising both arms to the side and coating their left hand with swirling, chilling cold and their right with a bursting mantle of flames. Then, they slammed their fists together, and an explosion of mist overtook the entire arena, spreading quickly, swallowing both Pokemon in its path.
“Registeel!” Brandon groaned, raising a hand and squinting through the pearly clouds. “Locate him, then grab him so he can’t keep running!”
His words, combined with the way Registeel turned to look at the real Alakazam without hesitation, told Anabel all she needed. So his sight doesn’t work like that of most Pokemon, she thought. It’s not thermal, or the mist should’ve confused it. Electromagnetic? It makes the most sense with what I’ve read. But it still needs to turn its head toward its target…
Like a machine, the behemoth’s blinking lights cut through the mists in sharp, calculated patterns, moving from one illusory copy to the next, trying to lock-on to the real one. Inside the mists, Alakazam noticed that it never set its sight on the same one twice, despite them constantly moving around.
Just a matter of time then , Anabel clicked her tongue, then spoke: “Disable!”
Up and behind Registeel, standing upon a pane of psychic energy floating in the air, Daisuke pointed at it with one spoon, releasing a disrupting wave that made the creature keel forward and whirr painfully with a sound like nails on chalkboard. The blinking lights on its face momentarily turned off.
“There you are,” Brandon whispered. “Registeel, he can only stop you as long as he keeps the spoon pointed at you.” Besides, he can only use one arm in the meantime , he thought. “Steel Claw!”
Turning its whole body at an alarming speed, Registeel lowered its legs for just a moment before jumping at Daisuke like a bullet, slashing at him with strength as though his arm had been strongly coiled.
Yet once again, all its fingers met were dancing lights.
Brandon’s eyes widened. Was the Alakazam he’d seen launch the attack not the real one? Was that also an illusion?
He heard Anabel’s voice from the other side of the arena. She sounded offended. “All he needs is one arm.”
And what appeared to be one of Alakazam’s illusory copies jumped behind its opponent as it hovered defenseless in the air, one hand pointing a spoon at it, keeping up the Disable, and the other bursting into flames before slamming into the back of its head with enough force to produce a sound like that of a gong.
For the next minute and a half, Brandon had to contain his irritation and admit inwardly that he’d underestimated his opponent.
Despite knowing that a single hit is all it’d take to bring down a creature as fragile as that Alakazam, his Registeel had been stopped cold in its tracks, over and over again, and pummeled with punch after flaming punch, all the while the Disable remained active, so Registeel couldn’t even lock-on to land a direct hit.
Speedsters were often too confident on said speed, to the detriment of everything else, but Anabel and her Alakazam were different. They’d identified their losing condition, and had worked to nullify it as fast as possible while slowly racking up damage. The level of skill and finesse it took Alakazam to maintain both the swarm of illusory clones as well as the Disable, while still being able to attack and get out of the way before retaliation was only one half of the reason the battle tipped in his favor. Without Anabel’s quick thinking, it would’ve served little purpose.
Brandon gritted his teeth. Though Alakazam’s level of focus was quickly tiring him, Registeel couldn’t hold on for much longer, his whole body steaming with heat, a few dents already visible on its surface. Brandon could tell when it was time to cut his losses. The next time he saw Alakazam materialize behind his Pokemon, he shouted:
“Catch it!”
At first, neither Anabel nor Daisuke understood the order. The Alakazam simply saw his opponent tip its head like it wanted to head-butt him, and jumped back just enough to counter with a devastating Fire Punch, which connected.
Except it connected too well. Unbeknownst to him, Registeel hadn’t tried to attack, but instead met the punch in the exact same spot as the previous one, where its metal was still hot and softened. The moment Alakazam punched it, its knuckles and a good portion of his hand sank into the outer shell, trapping him.
“Daisuke!”
The moment of hesitation as he wondered whether to drop the Disable in order to break free was enough to seal his fate. Too weakened to do anything else, Registeel’s whole body burst with a blinding light, and the next a devastating explosion tore through the arena, lifting a cloud of dust that swallowed all in its path, even the spectators.
Anabel waited for the dust to clear, a grumble rising from her chest to her throat. She was disappointed in herself for not seeing that coming, and flinched uncomfortably at the sight of her Alakazam in such bad shape once she finally set eyes on him. She returned him to his ball, gripping it with slightly more force than usual, and Brandon did the same with his own.
“You seem cross,” Brandon said. He wasn’t trying to get a rise out of her, it was a simple observation.
“...It’s a legitimate strategy,” was Anabel’s reply. “Even then… I expected more.”
Brandon scoffed. “I’ll say. For someone who recognized the Regis, you sure reacted quickly to my partner.”
“It’s because I knew,” Anabel spat out. “But it wasn’t at full power, was it? It was smaller than the books described. The Regis draw strength from the life-force of their awakener, so if it had been giving the fight its all, you should be a prune of a corpse right now.”
There it was, that kind of impetous anger that was all too common to young cocky trainers. Only this girl seemed to have the skill to back it up, annoyingly enough.
“Are you saying I went easy on you?”
“I’m saying it’s no fun fighting with a dull blade,” she replied, blunt as the steel she’d just conquered. “I expect more of your next Pokemon.”
One corner of Brandon’s lips quirked up, letting out a laugh like the click of a lighter. He raised and pressed a hand against his forehead and his next laugh came harder, louder, a vociferous and intimidating sound. Yet it had little effect on Anabel.
“Fine, if that’s what you want,” he said, producing another ball from his belt. “Come forth!”
In the moment before light erupted, Anabel’s eyes caught a purple glint off the top of the ball, as well as the symbol of an M, and her eyes widened even before she saw the massive creature that erupted from within.
“Agh!”
The wave of heat was immediate and scathing, washing over her, stinging her eyes and drying her throat. She had to raise a hand to protect herself, her foot sliding a few inches back. Yet the heat paled to the sight that met her as she squinted through her fingers. Concentrated tongues of flame licking a massive avian form; flaming wings and fireworks of red and purple and pink spiraling around its entire body, an unquenchable fire, and wings to deliver it upon all it sought to incinerate.
Brandon very much enjoyed the look on the girl’s face in Moltres’ presence. Even if it would have been petty to admit it.
“How are you planning to answer?” he asked, raising a hand forward. “With that Snorlax I’ve heard about, maybe?”
“...Incredible,” Anabel whispered, barely hearing him. “So the books were right; the young ones do migrate to other regions. Ha…”
Blinking back to reality, she smiled and took a step back, her eyes meeting Brandon’s again. Yet she didn’t reach for a Pokeball. Instead, she raised one hand high toward the sky, as though she intended to call down thunder with her willpower alone.
“What are you doing?” Brandon frowned.
“Fujiko doesn’t like being stuck in a ball,” was Anabel’s answer. “Sorry I lied before. But she would have showed up if I called; she’s taking a ride right now.”
Before Brandon could ask her to elaborate, everyone in the arena heard the crackling of lightning above, and all looked up at the same time, noticing the unnatural flashes across the darkened sky. Up in the stands, Scott laughed.
“We weren’t scheduled for a storm today, were we?” Tucker asked.
“Oh this is just too good,” Scott whispered to himself.
In the next instant, all in the arena but Scott and Anabel were blinded as a pillar of light and electricity cut the sky in half, slamming in front of the young trainer, pushing dust down and outwards, raising a large cloud.
The tables had been turned, and now it was Brandon whose eyes were wide, unable to believe the sight of one of the legendary beasts themselves, Raikou, appearing from within the storm for the sole purpose of challenging him. Behind her, though he could not know for certain, he was sure Anabel was smiling.
It wasn’t just the type disadvantage that did Moltres in, and that was the most frustrating part about it. It was, instead, the weakness in Brandon’s battling style staring him in the face.
Even he had to admit that he was more of a collector than a fighter. He had earned his companionship with the three winged mirages due to his extensive knowledge of their migration patterns, his unrelenting perseverance in hunting them and their own respect toward him for pulling it off. Even so, all three were quite young, less than half a century, which was but a drop in the bucket of their species’ natural lifespan. So while their power output was commendable, their experience in battle left something to be desired.
That, combined with his inability to make full use of the three Regis’ power, meant that Brandon wasn’t as powerful a trainer as one would first think. His team and battling style were somewhat gimmick-y. And most of his advantage came from the intimidation factor of having to face beings of legend.
So Anabel pulling out a Raikou in response was… to put it bluntly, the last nail in the coffin of the fight. He saw the signs as early as the first move, and when Moltres dropped to the ground, completely spent, with his own opponent only winded… He knew he was trying to stop rain from falling with his hands, but he had his pride too. For the girl’s sake if nothing else, it was a battle he had to see through to the end.
Out came Articuno, Brandon’s oldest and strongest Pokemon, and with a combination of Hail, Snow Cloak and plenty of Ice Beams, she did eventually emerge victorious, although in not a favorable condition for repeating the feat. And when Anabel’s last Pokemon came out, a Snorlax which made the ground shake with every step, Brandon knew it was over. A desperate Sheer Cold was the last they could do, and the attempt fell through his fingers, soon followed by victory itself.
At the very least, Anabel did seem like a hundred pounds of weight dropped off her shoulders when she saw Articuno fall. Her hand jittered as she raised her Snorlax’ ball.
“...Thank you, Koichi. You did amazing.”
Thankfully, Brandon was given the time it took for Scott and the rest to get down from the stands to steel himself after such a blunt defeat, which was more than enough. He was an adult, for fuck’s sake. The last thing he was going to do was embarrass himself in front of his… let’s face it, most likely new boss.
“It was a good fight,” he declared once he reached her, offering his hand for her to shake. “Even knowing most of your team beforehand, there was little I could do.”
Anabel blinked, putting the ball back in her belt and tentatively reciprocating the handshake, her eyes moving from him to the group of trainers approaching. There was no more nervousness in her expression, though. If he had to guess, the battle had dispelled it.
“...Thanks,” she muttered, then forced herself to add: “Um, sorry for the trash talk before. I get… It slips out sometimes, when I’m in the… heat of battle.”
“Ha. I’d like to say I’ve heard worse, but few can muster the balls to speak like that in the presence of my Pokemon. Not to toot my own horn as the loser, though.” He huffed, then glanced down at her belt. “I’m surprised. It’s my first time seeing such a young trainer with a Raikou.”
“Fujiko’s… She and I met when we were young. We grew up together,” she suddenly said, a smile forming underneath the mask. “I was surprised too. I’ve always wanted to see the winged mirages in person. Do… Do the others also have legend-class Pokemon?”
“Tucker and Spenser do,” he said, raising a thumb over his shoulder. “Though Tucker’s is quite young, not yet used to battle. I’m sure you’ll get to know them plenty soon enough.”
Unsurprisingly, Anabel looked like she was going to ask him to elaborate, but the rest caught up to them before she could, and as usual Scott burst into the conversation with his easy smile and inability to respect personal space, laughing and slapping a hand on the girl’s shoulder like a close friend, which instantly made her recoil.
“Anabel, Anabel, Anabel!” he exclaimed ecstatically, the lines of his smile clear even through the edges of his sunglasses. “That was incredible! As promised, you can have all the Battle Points you want within reason, and beyond that…”
He took a step back and spread his arms magnanimously, all six of his Frontier leaders taking point behind him.
“...I can only hope you’ll make me even happier by confirming something. Are you, by any chance, looking for a job right now?”
As Scott should’ve expected, it took a while for Anabel to come to terms with what she’d unknowingly walked herself into. There was panic at first. The kind that had been completely absent from her battle, but felt all too real in the presence of a possible piece of her future being solidified so suddenly.
Thankfully, the rest of the Frontier leaders were there to pick up the slack, and talk her down from the panic attack the girl seemed to be on the verge of having. Well, it was mostly Spenser and Greta who helped with that. The rest weren’t any more socially… able than Anabel, to put it bluntly. And Lucy kept staring at her with those scary eyes of hers, to make the matter worse. Still. Eventually, they did get her to actually consider the proposal, and the very real weight of its reality stunned her for almost a full minute.
“A-and… I would live here?” she asked, voice fainter than ever, yet also hopeful. “I’d have to… test trainers every day?”
Tucker laughed. “Only those worthy enough to reach you, darling. But yes, it would be up to you to stop them in their tracks, or give away your badge should you lose.”
“That’s not all the job has to offer, or to demand from you, however.” Spenser explained. “As the head of the Battle Frontier, it would be your job to represent us as a whole.”
“And I’m sure you’d need some training on top of that,” Scott said. “But hey, you’ve already met the hardest requirements, I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to acclimate to the job. I can see it in you.”
Anabel looked down, closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her temple, trying to calm her breathing. “O-okay. You’re throwing a lot at me.” She breathed in deeply. “I…”
She looked up at Scott, and in those pale pink eyes of hers he saw a sudden fear and desperation not even her face mask could hide. It caught him off guard.
“And… how independent would I be? In general.”
“I-I’m sorry?”
He could swear he heard her curse under her breath, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “The… If the League, or if someone else… Someone with money wanted to use me-I mean my… Use my image or my title for their purposes. Could I refuse?”
It was a strange enough question that Scott found himself without words for a second, and more than a few quizzical glances were exchanged behind him. Then a thought struck him. A single letter, the girl’s second initial: R .
“Is this a family concern, may I ask?”
Her eyes darted off of him. “I live with my grandparents. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I… Fair enough. Yes, of course, I would never pressure any of my Frontier leaders to be part of something they’re not comfortable with,” he reassured her. “Besides, we already got all the sponsors we could dream of! Not to mention you would be the official head of the Battle Frontier, the queen of its Battle Tower. No one would be able to force you into anything.”
“Oh…”
And with that breath leaving her lips, as she cast her head down again in thought, the reality of her situation seemed to finally dawn on her, a set of brilliant good news like a rare blood disorder. And she laughed. Just a chuckle, but enough to make her cover her mouth, despite the fact she was wearing a mask. And when she looked up at the lot of them again, one by one, seeing in them her future coworkers, she could barely contain her giddiness.
“I… I think I’d like to give it a try, yeah.”
With that, it was like a barrier breaking down between the two groups. Greta and Tucker whooed in celebration, and more than a few pairs of hands patted the girl’s back welcomingly, all the while she nodded and laughed dorkily in an attempt to hide her awkwardness and happiness. Congratulations all around, yes, save for one person.
Lucy only approached when the rest were done with their introductions, and her presence alone chilled the air and killed all conversation. Everyone made way for her. And when her eyes and Anabel’s met, it was the younger girl for once that sunk into herself.
“...As head of the Battle Frontier, I sincerely hope you will treat the job with more respect that you treated my facility,” she said plainly. “You followed the rules, yes, but you did not engage with the challenge in its intended spirit. I hope you understand that.”
“I…”
Distraught was the only word to describe the emotion in the girl’s eyes. She hung her head, ashamed, and tried mouthing off an apology, nervousness clogging up her throat. Thankfully, Lucy spoke again, breaking the ice of her own accord with a smile that not even Scott expected.
“...However, should you want to correct your mistake, a Pokemon battle will be a more than suitable apology,” she said, and extended her hand toward Anabel. “And a welcome loss on your part, of course. I don’t intend to make the same mistakes as Brandon.”
With that -and at least 90% of the awkwardness- out of the way, there was only one further matter to resolve: that of Anabel’s original reason for coming to the Battle Frontier.
As promised, Scott gave her another hundred BP and accompanied her to the exchange station, as did everyone else, far too curious on what she’d spent so much time and energy trying to gain. To be honest, Scott wasn’t sure himself as to the full extent of the prizes. He’d hired someone else for that, and had forgotten to give it a looksie until now.
So his and the others’ surprise was understandable, when Anabel headed to the counter to exchange her points and was soon presented with plushie after plushie, all of them of Pokemon and each one bigger and more impressive than the last. The last four -a Lapras, a Charizard, a Venusaur and a Blastoise- were taller than Anabel and at least five times as wide, made with such care and expertise that they could be nothing but collector items. Everyone’s jaws dropped at the sight, clearly unaware that they were giving out these things.
“Is…?” Scott cleared his throat, his voice suddenly hard to find. “Are these what you… wanted?”
Anabel shook her head, barely able to contain her excitement. “Not these, specifically. There’s two decorations, eight small plushies and five big ones, but there’s one of the five… One that you can only get if you already claimed all the rest. And to do that, I needed one-thousand five-hundred and thirty-six points…”
H-how many!? Scott screamed in his head, and he was pretty sure the same thought ran through the others’ heads. Sure they’re big, but who the hell was in charge of setting those prices!?
“...All so I could get…”
But Anabel was cut off, as the last and largest of the plushies was finally, laboriously pushed through the back door and deposited in front of her. And the girl couldn’t help herself. A sharp, ecstatic screech escaped her lips, and without thinking she threw herself on top of the life-sized Snorlax plushie, sinking into his stomach, kicking her feet and giggling as she hugged it tight.
“Yesss, haha! It’s even softer and cuter than I'd thought! Ohh you're never getting away; I'm gonna keep you and hug you and kiss you until the day I die!!”
While she remained drunk with glee, the rest of them -including the receptionists and a few of the trainers inside the building- stared gormlessly at her, unsure of what to say. All the way in the back, Brandon hid his face in his hands and sat himself down on one of the nearby chairs, sighing.
Beside him, Scott laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “You okay there, pal?”
“...Yes,” he breathed out. “Just… you know. Coming to terms with the fact that’s the girl who kicked my ass.”
Scott looked back at the giggly Anabel, and smiled. “At least you're getting used to the feeling.”
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