Step 12: Baddy (Patreon)

Step 12: Baddy

Union Cave, Johto.

The world I’d been reincarnated into was based on an 8-bit game, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I was suddenly facing a couple of two-bit villains.

“Ooh, bad luck, buddy. Just isn’t your day today running into us like this, eh? And just as you caught that alpha, too. It’s just a Sandshrew, but we’ll take it, regardless. Thank you for your donation to team Rocket.” Rocket grunt number one snickered. I stayed still as he approached, each arrogant step bringing him near enough to me till I could read the name Hughston on the name tag pinned to his R emblazoned shirt. He tossed his Pokéball up and down in his hand. The threat of Pokémon themed violence was clear. “Executive Proton can’t be too mad at us if we bring him something valuable, Roger.” He took his eyes off me and looked back at his partner. 

Grunt number two was playing with his own balls. Posing like something off the label of a bottle of rum, he’d perched his leg on to a nearby boulder, leaned forward on his lifted knee, and - in what I suspected he thought was an effective intimidation tactic - Licked his Pokéball while shooting a sinister Glare our way.. 

My lack of immediate response had spurred on an inflated sense of confidence in the two. “Hell, it might even get us a promotion. You know what? Empty your pockets out, kid. We’re gonna be taking you for everything you’ve got. You can keep your underwear, though. Don’t say us Rockets aren’t kind!” The aforementioned second Rocket grunt, Roger, was happily huffing his own hubris. “Throw in that Krabby too, you hear? I bet the fellas down in SlowPoké Well are gettin’ mighty hungry slumming it on rations. A little boiled crab with melted Bouffalant butter will do their morale wonders.”

Yecu, my Krabby, jumped at that. Poor li’l guy couldn’t catch a break. Everyone wanted to eat him. It must be a blessing and a curse to be so delectable. The recipe was a little too pedestrian for my tastes, though. “Don’t worry, Yecu. If anyone’s gonna eat you, it’s gonna be me!” Yellow crab curry - that’s what he was named after in the first place.

It wasn’t just Yecu who flinched and whirled at my betrayal. Both Rocket grunts had their jaws on the floor, while the surrounding Sandshrew Pokéd their heads out from underground. My Krabby started skittering manically between my legs, clamping and snapping his claw in panic.

Ganger grunts were about as low as you could get on the organized crime totem pole. Spineless bullies who hypnotized themselves into believing there’s Strength in numbers. An incredibly dumb notion, especially in a world like Pokémon. Just because you had fifty Rattata doesn’t mean you’re gonna beat Necrozma. Focus band strats don’t work here. Neither of these two idiots were nearly as attractive as Jesse or as endearing as James for me to give them the time of day. You know what bullies fear? Bigger bullies.

“H-hey… didn’t you listen to us? I said we’re gonna take your Pokémon.” Seemed my lack of fear seeped that unwarranted confidence right out Rocket Grunt Hughston’s voice, if his spontaneous stutter was anything to go by.

“And all your stuff!” But Rocket Grunt Roger was the braver - and no doubt foolhardy - of the pair.

“Yeah! And all your stuff. So hand it over before I-” Buoyed by his partner’s boisterous support, Hughston attempted to Spit Up another threat, but I made him Swallow it before he could get it all the way out.

“Shut up, will ya!? Can’t you see I’m tryna comfort my darling mon after you two bozos hurt his feelings? No manners, I swear. No wonder you ended up as petty criminals. Your poor mothers are probably crying their eyes out at the two failures they squeezed out of their Cloysters.”

They gasped and stepped back at my abrupt vitriol. You’d think I’d successfully cast Sandstorm the way they were buffeted by that attack on their psyche. “You take that back about our mothers, they’re wonderful ladies!” Hughston immediately Retaliated; spittle and tears in equal measure flying in my direction with every syllable

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Take a good hard look at our shirts, moron. We’re team Rocket! We’re the baddest mother psyduckers out there!” Roger, meanwhile, continued to bluster. 

I was more inclined to bust their Bubble. “Huh?!” My head reeled back, I squashed my chin into my neck, and made that face of pure disgust - like I’d just stepped barefoot in the stinkiest pile of Snorlax dung. “You better check yourselves before you wreck yourselves. Know who I’m talking to? Of course I do. You’ve got name tags for Arceus’ sake. Every officer Jenny and their mother probably knows who you thumbsuckers are. The both of you are so far down the henchman hierarchy that real members of team Rocket want you to get caught just so the top brass can use you as a distraction to keep the Heat Wave off them. You’ve got no chance. Is this your first day on the job or something?”

“Shows what you know, you daft punk! We’re veterans who’ve been at this for a month.” That fist shaking aimed at me may look angry, but the words painted a far more frightened picture to my Torment attuned gaze.

“We’re pretty new to this…” At least Hughston was more honest.

“Okay, let me explain how this thing works. You hurl out your Pokémon that barely tolerate you, because you probably stole them, or they were handed to you as welcome on board the criminal syndicate package. Probably poison or dark types because you think that’s enough to scare trainers into submission. I respond with my own mon - that, as it happens, I’ve spent time and effort training. We defeat you easily, and you losers run off screaming threats you’ll never be able to fulfill. Sound familiar?”

“No…”

“It will. Get used to it. I doubt you’ll amount to anything greater in life.” I wasn’t entirely sure whether that shade of red he was turning was because he was reaching his boiling point, or if getting metaphorically burned afflicted him with very physical effects. You never know. Aura can do weird things.

“Enough is enough! I’ve had it, with this Mankey flipping punk, in this mother Ducklett cave!” Roger’s final frothing shout was the signal to kick the battle off. Two Pokéballs were flung in my direction. Spinning a mile a minute as beams of red leaked out the sides of the opening balls, until they exploded open, and coalesced into two familiar forms.

A Rattata, and an Ekans. Predictable. I was almost right on the money.

Baloo was the obvious choice here. All it would take is for the right moment to strike out with any attacking ground type move to knock the Ekans out, and a well timed Fairplay after tanking what would most likely be a Quick Attack from the Rattata would take care of it, too. Wham bam, thank you Rocket man. 

As I stared at my dejected Krabby, I decided my crustacean needed a little more love. Yecu had been an active participant in many, many training sessions, but I had yet to make him the sole focus all on his own. His primary purpose had inadvertently become a training dummy. A punching bag. That’s not to say Yecu hadn’t gained anything for himself - he was a vital component that allowed Baloo to progress at the pace he had. In the process of helping my starter obtain his prowess with his fairy type aura and resulting move, Yecu had greatly improved his command over his own steel type energy. Not to mention the sheer stat boost he’d gained in his defenses by constantly getting battered (not for deep frying). Yecu was tough. What he lacked was battle experience, and maybe a new move - I’d been neglecting his primary water type, anyway. What better opportunity to remedy that than now?

Pokémon grew fastest in battle, and these mooks were just the bricks I needed my Krabby to break through. 

I hadn’t needed to tell Yecu to gather himself and get ready for a fight; by the time both his adversaries had been revealed, my Krabby had already skittered in front of me protectively. He was primed for a contest - I wouldn’t disappoint, either. “These guys stink,” in more ways than one, “let’s give ‘em a bath.” Yecu instantly used the move he likely had the most practice with. He frothed at the mouth, collected and compressed a good amount of water aura, and spat out the glob high in the air. It impacted the ceiling, burst, and it was suddenly pouring down. Rain Dance. I liked my morning and evening showers. 

“Tackle it!” Grunt one wasted no time by going on the offensive.

While grunt two was more intent on flexing his non-existent superiority. “Ha! That the best you can do? It’s not even affecting our Pokémon.” Oh, these guys really were amateurs. It’s an arena setting move, usually designed to affect the potency of water type attacks. Obviously it wasn’t gonna damage your Pokémon. I had another other uses for it. “End this Ekans, Poison Sting!”

For a moment, I almost felt like praising them both. When you have a numbers advantage, a pincer move is an effective strategy. Unfortunately (for them), given the converging trajectories of both attacks, more poison aura laced needles were liable to pierce the charging Rattata’s hide than my Krabby’s carapace. 

Unlike with Baloo, my Teddiursa, I hadn’t yet worked out the simplistic, monosyllabic commands for Yecu’s learned moveset. It didn’t matter so much with these fodder class trainers, but I’d have to rectify this issue got when I eventually started pitting my other Pokémon against more serious trainers. For now, I’d keep the instructions short, sweet, and to the point. 

Both the attacks headed towards Yecu were unbearably slow - even I could see them. So I made my Krabby wait until the very last second before either move made contact. “Metal Claw. Down.” His slightly larger claw snapped shut. A flash of silver, a quick burst of steel type aura, and Yecu brought down his steely pincer. 

In one fell swoop, he brought down his slightly larger claw in front of him, clobbering the Rattata into unconsciousness. The steel energy thoroughly counteracting the poison energy due to its immunity. 

“Eh-?” Grunt one must have had another command on his lips, too bad his Pokémon was already out of the fight.

“Water Gun. Hold.” A ball of water burbled to life between Yecu’s second set of pincers.

“Oh, no you don’t! What are you waiting for, you damn snake? Get there and Bite it before it hits you with that!” Grunt two warned his Ekans, but that wasn’t my goal. 

The aura suffused rain overhead, the pressure of a coming attack as Ekans hissed and slithered his way over, and finally the concentration required to maintain his energy. The time was ripe for Yecu to learn a new move.

My simple philosophy on move learning came into play. Aura plus action equals move. The aura was prepped, just the action was left. 

Ekans entered striking distance, its fangs bleeding dark type energy spread wide, but before it could clinch it, Krabby was quick to intervene. “Catch.” Yecu’s water infused claws, instead of Ekans’ jaw, snapped shut. It writhed in Yecu’s grasp until the dam in his pincer finally broke and the new move clicked into place. “Clamp!” A deluge of water brined the thrashing snake until it fainted in Yecu’s unrelenting grip. 

“Wha-?! Dammit!” Both Pokémon were hastily recalled.

“Man, this so isn’t Tentacool.”

“We’ll get you for this next time, you hear?” The two grunts turned on their heels and made to blast off after their loss. 

“Next time?” But what made them think I’d be letting them get off that easy? Flaring my own nascent aura, I focused it on my legs the way I remember Falkner doing it. In a flash of speed, I circled their path and impeded their escape route. “Now, now, you know the league rules. Loser’s gotta pay the winner. What were the stakes again? Oh yeah, everything but the underwear.” Cracking my knuckles, I loomed over them.

They began sweating. They looked behind, only to spot Yecu menacingly clicking his claws, and then nervously faced each other. “Uh, Hughston… we have a problem.”

“It’s over Roger. Over.” 

Outside the cave, I held down the central button on both of the stolen Pokéballs and released the Ekans and Rattata into the wilderness. They both fled without a second look back. 

True to my promise, I’d liberated the two Rockets of everything they had. They should count their lucky stars that I’d at least left them with their shirts. I assure you; it had nothing to do with the fact that the giant Rs would be an added humiliation to both them and the organization they served, as they waddled out of a cave in tighty-whities. 

My hand fell on the dusk ball holding my alpha Sandshrew, clipped onto my belt. “Just you left. Let’s get you sent to your new trainer and get myself my new teammate.”