Going Underground

What did Ratt ever do to deserve this fate?

Not his name. He knew how that came about - birth name of Finlay Ratterson with a rodent-like look to him and the cruelty of kids was it’s long, tortured origin, but now he wore it like a badge of honour. No, no, that wasn’t the fate he was talking about.

How did he - a former pro Aura Battler, made it through his rookie year with ease, joined up with a Club Team, and made a name for himself on that circuit - wind up pacing like a madman in the dingy backrooms of some underground fight club? He didn’t do anything wrong, other than a little gambling, and like that was a crime! Everyone gambled! That’s why there were a thousand ads for it on every hour of TV. It was the League that was at fault, they were behind the times. Besides, it’s not like Ratt ever placed bets on his own matches. He was entirely innocent and entirely undeserving of this fate.

Yet, here he was, frantically carving a rut in the dusty concrete of the backrooms while his longtime partner looked on, morosely.

“Aw man, aw man… What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do!?” Ratt babbled in blind panic, speaking to no one in particular. “You’re gonna get killed if you go out their, Frell - fucking killed! Did you see the size of that behemoth Shockey has out there! Huge, fucking huge! I ain’t ever seen a Mudsdale that big! That freak has to be juicing - and here I thought this place was respectable…”

Ratt had every right to be worried. Despite his sterling innocence in his dismissal and barring from the KABL, he had never kicked the gambling habit, only now he didn’t have the income being a pro battler provided. Large bets, risky bets, all trying to chase a high or get him that big windfall, but seemingly from the moment he was banned from the league, his luck turned rotten. And now, he was in debt, bigtime, and to the wrong sorts of people.

He brought his fingernails to her mouth, chattering on them. This might be his last chance to make things even. And he could only imagine what Kurotame would do to him at the end of the night if he didn’t have his cash…”

“Maybe this is a sign.” Frell said, hunched over on a stack of milk crates. With her plump, pouty lips and fringe haircut draping long over one eye, the Magmar woman practically radiated her defeated attitude. “Maybe we should skip town, get out of Sattoh, and go somewhere far away. Get a fresh start.”

“No. Nah-uh. Not happening. I already checked. Kurotame has his men on all the exits.” Ratt was certain he wasn’t the only one in this building indebted to the crime boss, just that he had the largest outstanding debt to the young, ruthless yakuza. “We try to run, they nab us and then that looks even worse than trying to win but coming up short…”

And what would happen if they lost? What would happen if they ran and assuredly got caught? Ratt’s stomach turned as he imagined the gruesome scenarios for him and his partner - the girl he had known and fought alongside for twelve years. Kurotame would probably take his pinkies, for starts. Frell… Arceus above, he would probably **** her into some scuzzy brothel he had his hands in.

For a moment, Ratt felt a surge of conviction well up in him. He would do whatever the hell it took to clear the debt and get back in the black, but he would especially throw his own body on the line if it meant Frell would not be harmed. He stood up straight, puffed his chest out, steeling himself for the battle and the aftermath, adamant that he would save his best friend…

And just as quickly, Ratt’s resolve crumpled in on itself, his body following suit, as Ratt went into the fetal position, hand ruffling through his greasy hair.

“Ah…! What are we gonna do….!?”

“Maybe I can be of some assistance.”

Out from the shadows (of which there were plenty in the backrooms) came an oddly dressed woman. With her thin frame and pale skin she almost looked sickly, the point emphasized by the dark bags under her narrow eyes and the hi-tech gas mask that covered her lower face. However, in contrast to her unhealthy appearance, her clothing was immaculate. A tailored three-piece suit, black with a gold tie and lapels, made her willowy figure look sharp instead of frail. Her eyes were barely open, giving off bored and distasteful, and what little that could be seen was as black as night. In her black leather gloves, she held a stainless steel attache case.

Pinned to her left lapel was a gleaming metallic capital “R”, bright red and reflecting the weak lighting that both the room’s lightbulbs and Frell’s flames dimly cast.

“W-who the hell’s asking…?” Ratt said, trying to stop his frayed nerves from showing through. Even then, he still chattered the words out.

“A chemist in need of a guinea pig.” With her mask on, the woman’s voice was muffled and tinny, echoing through a speaker mounted to the front of the device. “I have no shortage of those in this place, but you two look like the sorriest, most **** of the bunch.” She ran one gloved hand through her two-toned black-and-white hair, even though it was already slicked back, as if she were fastidiously making sure not a strand was out of place.

“Well, we may be ****, but we don’t need your help…” Ratt said, trying to sound tough. Frell affirmed his denial with a few quick nods.

“Please, don’t try and give me the tough guy act. You’re absolutely screwed.” The mystery woman said with a bored, blunt, and casual cruelty. Her lazy, half-shut eyes didn’t even bother falling onto either man or Magmar, instead looking past both. “But you’re also correct - that Mudsdale you’re slated to face is juiced to the gills. Most of the competitors here are. Those that run this underground ring turn a blind eye to all manner of PEDs. All I’m offering is something to even the playing field.”

Ratt licked his lips, as if he could taste the offer, the chance of salvation, on the air. He shared an unsure look with Frell, still hunched over on the crates but now curled up more into herself. It would be her body they would be abusing. He would never say “yes” if she didn’t, too. And he could tell - battler’s intuition - that his partner of a dozen years wanted to agree, but she was just so beaten down by the last few years she couldn’t muster it up.

After a yawning silence, the mystery woman broke it up with an annoyed grunt barking from her masks’ speaker.

“Fine.” She opened up her case. Inside were two syringes of the mystery **** she was peddling, but also several bundles of hundred dollar bills.

Ratt’s heart stopped. It wouldn’t be enough to clear their debt if they lost. But, it might buy them some time. And, if they actually won, it would be enough to help start a new life…

“Okay… we’ll do it…” Frell said, voice shaking. Still, she gave a look to Ratt. He in turn gave his partner a nod of assurance, both turning to the mystery woman.

With a rather uncaring posture, the woman sealed up the case and passed it to Ratt.

“One is for you, the other is for your partner.” The woman explained. “Take it ten minutes before you due to battle. And if you think you can skip using the **** and just pocket the cash, trust me, me and my organization are far worse than anything these yakuza thugs could possibly come up with.”

Ratt just stared blankly at her. Judging by her lapel pin, he knew her “organization”, but how could a tech company and Corporate Team be scarier than the yakuza? Well, at any rate, this masked woman was about as scary as Kurotame…

“Um, hey… wait!” Ratt fumble for words as the woman silently stalked away. “Uh… what’s your name?” He asked, dumbly, blindly reaching for random words.

Without turning back, the woman in the mask said, “My codename is ‘Cancer’. That’s all you need to know. Best of luck tonight. I’ll be watching…”

/////

Like any sport to reach the level of saturation and popularity as Aura Battling, the WBF and it’s subsidiaries weren’t the only game in town. Various minor leagues, independent leagues, and underground leagues existed across Sattoh and Kassia, all operating under varying degrees of legality and respectability. The underground fight club located in Palo Vista (currently situated in an empty warehouse on the far end of the freight train depot, itself on the far east side of the city) certainly was on the lower end of those two criteria, but it never failed to draw a crowd. That was because Palo Vista lacked a team of it’s own of any kind - City, Club or Corporate - and while the presence of the Battle Academy meant tournaments and exhibition matches were frequent, they evidently were not enough to satiate the citizens of Palo Vista and their desire for Aura Battles.

Whenever the clandestine operation held an event, folks from all over the city would make their way to whichever warehouse, bunker, or makeshift arena held host to the unnamed underground league, traveling under cover of night and usually in some sort of anonymous disguise. Crim was one of those people. Obsessed with Aura Battling, he had been coming since he was thirteen, whenever he needed to see the thrill of a live battle or needed to clear his head. He had been caught sneaking in or out more than once, too, but no matter what punishment his moms levied at him, he could never stay away from the fight pit for long.

And he liked his local, underground league, for all the good and the bad. Despite the pervasive rumour (most likely a thinly-disguised truth) of criminal involvement to the fight club, as well as the less-than stellar and more-than shady nature of it’s participants, what was presented in the fight pit was actual Aura Battling. He had read stories that other underground leagues were far more brutal and disreputable than this one, where they would lower the safety limiters of the Aura Drivers to ratchet up the pain and injuries the Pokémon battlers would suffer. Or where it wasn’t actual Aura Battling at all, instead letting the fighters scrap with fist and claw and sometimes weaponry, turning something that Crim loved into an odious bloodsport. There was a stark line between a combat sport and an ugly, violent fight, and Crim had no interest in crossing that line, even as a viewer.

Normally, Crim made his journey to the fight club alone, but tonight, as he made his way through a packed house to the rickety bleachers (designed to be quickly set-up, disassembled, moved, and stored), he had a guest accompanying him.

“You come to this place often, Crim…” Joy muttered, barely audible before the pre-fight din of the patrons. Crim held her by the hand, making sure they wouldn’t get separated, as they barged their way through to get as close as possible.

“Sometimes. Haven’t been in a few months.” The air was hot and thick, smelling of tobacco and beer. Everyone was toasting and sweating under the high-powered lights rigged up in the rafters. “Look, I know this place looks sort of rough - and so does the crowd - but no one has ever given me any trouble. It’s no different than going to a battle at a regular arena.”

“Mhmm…” Joy gave him an uneasy nod. “You say that like I’ve ever been to a real Aura Battle match…”

Crim had planned on blowing off some steam by attending the fights tonight ever since he left school, but Joy’s inclusion was a last minute deal. A thank you for her pep talk earlier. He was honestly surprised she had said yes. Crim wasn’t a bad kid by any means (he didn’t think so, at least), but Joy was definitely far more on the straight and narrow than he ever was.

“Well, I appreciate the invitation, so thank you, Crim.” Joy said, managing a smile, as they shuffled to a free spot on the fourth row of bleachers. “And, I mean, if you’re going to be a Battler, I guess it’s time for me to get my feet wet.”

“Hmm.” Crim grunted, hoping to have kept his mind off his looming last chance.

“I mean, once you start your career, I’m sure all of your matches will be appointment viewing at your house.” Joy went on, oblivious of her friend’s discomfort.

“Hmm.”

“I’ll come over every time to watch with your moms. Maybe I’ll invite my folks or some of my friends, too. We’ll have Crim Ranier watch parties!”

“Hmm…”

Fortunately, the house lights dimmed shortly thereafter, signalling the beginning of the event and stopping Joy from saying anything else that would unintentionally upset Crim.

The arena lay in the centre of the warehouse floor, sixteen-foot square with a ten-foot chain link fence surrounding it on all sides. Looming all around it were the bleachers - staggered and raised, row after row - and spectators, with the four sets of bleachers sitting around the arena in cardinal directions, but with the western bleachers being split in two, the gap in the middle forming an entrance tunnel for Battlers and staff.

The house emcee took to the mic and began to bray and bawl so loudly his voice crackled and peaked over the cheap speakers lined up in the warehouse. Smoke from smoke machines began to billow across the floor around the bleachers. Lopunny girls in micro-bikinis sauntered around the raised platform on the outside of the cage, holding up placards with information for the coming fights. The crowd was not reading those placards, though, too busy hooting and hollering over the smoking hot Poke-babes.

Joy sank into her seat and scrunched up her face, holding that position and expression until the Lopunnys left. “Can’t say I’m a fan of that…” she murmured. “That’s not, like, a part of real Aura Battling, is it?”

“Cheerleaders and Battle Queens are common, yes, but not so… blatant.” Crim explained, trying to find the right words. Cheerleaders were tasteful. Battle Queens… even if they didn’t show as much skin (or fur) as the ring girls the fight club used, they could sometimes be more risqué in their outfits and figures.

Fortunately, they did not have to dwell upon the blatant sexuality on display for much longer, as the first match of the evening shortly commenced. Crim recognized all four competitors - human and Pokémon - from previous trips here. They were pro Battlers, Single A, and they used underground leagues like this to get their reps in during the off-season. The crowd gave both pairs a warm welcome and was enthralled with their match, cheering for whichever side got the advantage, not caring who won or lost, just hoping for a good fight.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats as Cabela (a female Ponyta) danced around and narrowly avoided the lightning-like kicks of Hyun (male Hitmonlee). In turn, they cheered when Hyun avoided the fiery darts launched by Cabela, running along the walls of the cage, before launching off and planting a kick onto the chest of the fiery horse-like Pokémon. Much to the crowd’s elation, Cabela was not down for the count, and even exchanged a series of blows with the long-legged martial artist, snappy kicks mixing with burning punches.

Joy watched ninety percent of the match through her hands.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god!!!” She exclaimed when Cabela drove her opponent away with a flurry of punches. “This is intense! This is insane! Is it always like this? How are those Pokémon not getting hurt?”

Crim affected a smug expression, cocking his head upward while crossing his arms over his chest. “When Marty and Kon are around, they usually put them out. Or others with plenty of experience. A good battle at the start gets the crowd fired up and invested for the rest of the show. That’s what they do in scripted Free Battles. As for how they aren’t getting hurt, well, it’s an Aura Battle! The Aura of the human partner coats their Pokémon in a protective covering that shields them from the worst of the damage. The blows still hurt, but it takes a lot for even a bruise to get through the barrier.”

“AH!” Joy screamed and covered her eyes again, after Hyun sent Cabela flying into the cage wall with a massive kick. “No way, this is crazy! I can’t believe your mom did this! I can’t believe Brandy and Hala and Wynne want to do this! I would be worried sick about them getting hurt…”

The bout soon ended, with Cabela bracing herself against the cage wall and beginning to run along its surface, breaking to a fiery, full-speed gallop before long, doing complete circuits of the ring from up on high in a matter of seconds, flames streaking behind her. Hyun was left with no counterplay, as his opponent zoomed into a fiery vortex that encircled the top of the cage. Cabela then came streaking down like a meteor, colliding into Hyun and sending him flying into the cage himself, only the Hitmonlee did not get up. A knockout was declared and the match was over. Hyun was given an energy capsule to restore him to wakefulness, before all four competitors shook hands and the crowd gave them a standing ovation.

“Wait, you’re training to be a Pokémon medical officer, how do you not know all this stuff?” Crim asked, incredulously. In the excitement of the battle and the novelty of seeing Joy panic, he had completely forgotten that fact.

“There’s a difference between studying it and seeing it!” Joy exclaimed, motioning to the ring of fire still alight atop the cage, crew members going to extinguish it. “But… wow…” Joy fanned herself off, a big smile coming to her lips. “I can see why you love Battling so much. That was so exciting! My nerves are all frayed but I can’t wait for the next match!”

Unfortunately, the next bout was nowhere near as exciting or engrossing as the opener. Not everyone who worked the underground was a pro Battler looking to sharpen their skills for the upcoming season. Most were dropouts, hobbyists, or crooks with jailbroken Aura Drivers. The human Battlers lacked the imagination or strategic thinking to come up with exciting plays, while the Pokémon Battlers weren’t getting enough Aura to unleash the full extent of their powers. Sometimes, underground matches were barely more than standing slugfests, ‘Mons exchanging blows until one crumpled from exhaustion.

Still, the crowd (mostly) (always) enjoyed themselves. And Crim always found himself playing armchair Battler, dissecting moves and decisions, trying to understand why the Battlers did what they did, and trying to figure out if he could do better. Even with the dregs the club sometimes rolled out, Crim sought to learn everything he could from live battles.

“Sorry, pardon me, coming through, sorry, thank you…” In the period between the second and third match, a woman in an oversized hoodie made their way through the crowd up to the fourth row, using their large-ish frame to navigate through the crowd. When she came up to the fourth row, she pointed to the small gap between Crim and the person next to him and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

“I mean, no but…”

“Thanks!”

The woman in the hoodie who had barged her way through the crowd, now barged her way into the seat, wedging herself into a space far too small for her voluptuous frame. The entire row of people to her right and left shifted as best they could to accommodate. Crim was now sitting at a diagonal, his legs jerked up and draped over Joy’s lap, the rest of his body twisting to fit into the gap.

“I haven’t missed much, have I?” The stranger chirped, happy and oblivious to the discomfort she was causing.

“Er… just two matches.” Crim replied in a strained tone, caused by his awkward position.

“Oh, good! I just love Aura Battling!” The woman’s entire figure was hidden beneath baggy clothing - the oversize hoodie that pooled down past her thighs and large sweatpants - and the hood itself was so oversized that it obscured her entire face. Everything save for a bit of white muzzle that pushed out beyond the boundaries of the yawning bonnet, immediately identifying her as a Pokémon. “But I’ve never seen it live before and I’m just so excited!”

“Never? Hey, look Joy, you found someone alike.” Crim said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah, great…” Joy grumbled, looking at Crim’s legs and feet propped up before her. On her. Trying to find a spot to move them to. “Sorry, miss, but do you think you could find another spot? Right now, this bench seems a little tight and-”

“Ah, it’s okay, Joy. We can manage this for one fight, right?” Crim said, forcing a smile towards Joy. He didn’t want to quash such genuine enthusiasm about Aura Battling, even if he had to suffer some discomfort for it. Joy gave him a look but said nothing else.

“Are you regulars here?” The hooded woman asked.

“I am. This is Joy’s first time seeing live Battling, too. You missed a real good fight for the opener, hopefully some of these scrubs can match what Marty and Kon did.”

The third match wasn’t that great. Better than the second, but Crim had seen dozens of bouts in the underground better. The stranger next to him, though, loved every moment of it. She was loudly crying out at everything the two pairs of Battlers did, not in exclamations of shock or yelps like Joy, but cheers of pure joy and excitement. She even joined in with the crowd catcalling the Lopunny ring girls. She stood up, jumped, danced, bumping and jostling Crim and her other neighbour with each bombastic movement. She even embraced Crim in a big hug, and he could feel his head buried in her absolutely massive breasts, fully engulfed as she rubbed his face into them.

“Is that something that happens on the regular, too…” Joy said, giving Crim the side eye as he emerged from marshmallow hell.

Fortunately, the pair were saved from further shenanigans (and given back some space), when a voice called out to the stranger.

“Hey! Don’t wander off! We have to get going.”

The sharp voice was easily heard above the crowd, an impressive feat, yet neither Crim nor Joy could identify the speaker. Regardless, the hooded Pokémon girl stood up and quickly made her way down the bleachers.

“Thanks for letting me sit with you! Nice to meet you both!”

“And thank goodness!” Joy said, kicking Crim’s entire lower half off her as soon as the stranger left.

“I mean, yeah, but still.” Crim wriggled about now that he had the room. “Surprised she came and left so quickly. Wonder what that was about.”

“Oh, she’s just some fangirl that wandered away from her friends.” Joy waved-off. “Was probably nice to have met a battle-maniac as big as you, eh. And I do mean big…”

Crim shrugged and blushed. “Oh, she was just friendly…”

“Yeah, a little too friendly from what I saw…”

Once more, Crim was saved from Joy’s snark by the announcement of the next match, and it brought with it something Crim did not like about this underground fight club: ****. Sure, no one was as brazen to use out in the open, but the Mudsdale Battler that came out first was an utter giant! So big, so muscular, so vascular, that he had to be juiced all the way up to his eyeballs. Seven-feet tall and every bit of him was rock hard muscle and bulging veins. He flexed for the crowd, snorting and braying as he showed off his body and shook the walls of the cage. Crim thought, if he tried hard enough, he could probably rip an entire wall off without much effort.

“That’s just grotesque…” Joy gasped in horror at the sight of the roided up Mudsdale. She actually looked physically ill at the sight of him. “To think someone would do that to their partner…”

“It’s a partnership, though.” Crim noted, quietly and grimly. He himself felt a little queasy at the end result of the battery of steroids that Pokémon inflicted on themselves. “That Mudsdale was probably okay with it for whatever reason. Some underground places have no issue with steroids, so if you can use them why not?”

“Do you have any idea what using that many steroids does to your body? How much strain it puts on your heart? Because I do.” Joy replied, grimly.

The opponent for the juiced-up thoroughbred was another regular around these parts, though not for the same reasons as Marty and Kon. Ratt and Frell were former pro Battlers who were barred due to gambling on matches, and apparently never kicked the habit. Even Crim knew that Ratt was in debt to some very bad people and had recently taken to accepting bribes to throw matches. Which only got him in trouble with some other bad people! But, as the pair made their entrances, a hush fell over the crowd. Everyone could tell something was up. Something was wrong…

Ratt, with his pinched cheeks, beakish nose, and narrow eyes, looked like was on ****, too. Pale and visibly sweating under the spotlights, his body had become one gigantic twitch, totally tweaking. He was trembling constantly, unable to rest his arms or fingers, while his head was constantly darting in one direction, only to snap back to it’s prior position in the same motion. His partner, Frell the Magmar, was not a tweaking mess, but something was plainly wrong with her two, as she languidly shuffled to the arena, marching at a snail's pace as her arms swayed rhythmically. Her eyes were downcast and almost locked onto the floor the whole entire way.

“Crim, I don’t like this anymore…” Joy said, as Frell and Musdale were locked into the cage. Ratt and Frell were clearly unable to properly compete but that clearly didn’t dissuade whoever ran the fight club. “I think we should leave.”

The roiling feel in Crim’s gut told him that she was right, but he was hesitant to do so. Aura Battling was his everything, and he never left in the middle of a match, even when it looked like the match would be a dud. Heck, he had seen people on ‘Mons strung out on whatever compete here before. If anything, it just meant the bout would go quicker and the next fight would happen that much sooner.

“Let’s just see what the next one is like. If that’s a dud, we’ll leave.” Crim said, earning a small whine from Joy, but she otherwise remained seated and quiet.

In the ring, with Frell looking like she was about to fall asleep standing, and the Mudsdale looking like his twitching muscles were about to burst from his skin, the bell rang and the match started. Immediately, the muscled mustang whickered and charged, decking Frell across the jaw with a vicious right hook. No blood, no bruises, no broken teeth, but there is no way a blow like that didn’t hurt - compressed Aura barrier or not. Yet Frell hardly reacted to the blow. Her head bobbed to one side in the direction of the impact, but she did not so much as sway on her feet otherwise.

Snorting, the Mudsdale unleashed another barehanded shot, just as brutal as before. And another and another, raining blows down on the lethargic Magmar woman, who absorbed it all as if it were nothing. Head turning left and right with the forces of the punches, Frell was otherwise unresponsive, eyes glassy and unfocused, but not from the beating she was taking. It was like she just didn’t feel anything at the moment.

At his corner in the controller’s box, Ratt was laughing like a loon, still pale and sweaty, absolutely unperturbed by the beatdown his partner was taking. After being hushed by Ratt’s alarming appearance, the crowd had swelled in noise with the ringing of the bell, roaring when the Mudsdale made his first punch. But now, a dozen punches later, seemingly have no effect on Frell and Ratt hunched over and cackling, an uneasy quiet spread through the warehouse.

Crim found himself leaning on the edge of his seat in spite of himself, in spite of the sick feeling growing in his stomach and the unsettling chill creeping down his spine. Something was wrong here, very, very wrong. Ratt and Frell were more than just high on something, they were disconnected from everything. A Pokémon as big and strong as this Mudsdale should be able to crush boulders when Aura Linked, so how was it unable to make one Magmar so much as budge?

Clearly, the Pokémon Battler was asking a similar question, as it snorted in rage and disgust before it’s immovable foe. Rearing up, the Mudsdale balled it’s fists together and raised them high above it’s own head, intending to bring them down like a hammer on top of Frell.

Then Frell finally made a move - like, literally moved on her own agency for the first time since the bell ran. With an impossibly fast jab, she drove a fiery fist right into the gut of the Mudsdale, and despite it’s ten-pack, cheese-grating abs and thick coat of fur, the blow scored to devastating effect. All the wind driven from it’s chest, the Mudsdale doubled over and gasped in pain and shock, eyes wide and tongue lolling out. Heavy lidded eyes lit up, as Frell broke into a smile, laughing alongside her partner.

Now, the tide quickly turned, the Magmar woman dishing out repeated blows on the Mudsdale, and unlike Frell, he did not so gracefully absorb the punishment being delivered. Each punch - enhanced by the roaring flames that now were beginning to spread and coat all of Frell’s body - staggered the great behemoth, sending him stumbling on noodle legs. Moving with much more alacrity than her pre-match appearance suggested, Frell stayed on him, each punch falling moments after the last, a neverending burning cascade that soon had the Mudsdale sprawled out on the ground.

The crowd had come alive again with this sudden turnabout and unexpected beatdown, cheering for Ratt and Frell after being quieted by their disconcerting appearances. Joy just sank deeper into her chair, grumbling and whining, while Crim stood up, his heart pounding in his chest from such an expected turnaround, even as the cold, slimy queasy feeling in his stomach remained.

Frell committed to the ground-and-pound, mounting atop the fallen thoroughbred and delivering more wild, flaming punches. The crowd counted along with each blow.

“Five… six… seven… eight…!”

But then, Frell stopped all of sudden. The Mudsdale was helpless and, in any proper Battle league, the bell would have been called to stop the match. But that was not the case with the underground. Nor did Frell suddenly feel mercy for her down foe. Instead, Ratt’s voice, high and warbling, called out from their corner.

“He looked down on us! He thought he could humiliate us! No one’s gonna look down on us ever again! Roast his ass, Frell!”

Giggling, Frell’s flames reached a crescendo, as she directed them to the prone Mudsdale, bathing him in brilliant scarlet flames. The entire warehouse was awash with red, a wave of heat falling over everyone, and the crowd went absolutely wild. The sudden flux of flame and heat was so intense, it all but knocked Crim back into his seat, as he breathless gawked in the superheated air. If it was this hot four rows back, what was it like in the front row? What was it like in the arena?

“Crim! Crim! I want to go home!” Joy managed to say, with some difficulty, between the frenzied crowd making it hard to be heard and the superheated air making it hard to breathe.

“It’ll be over soon.” Crim confided in her, in a know-it-all manner. “The flames will give out, the match will be called, he’ll get an energy capsule and it will all be okay. This is pretty standard stuff for Fire-type Pokémon.”

But the flames didn’t give out. They kept going, and going. And growing and growing. They spread from just the Mudsdale across the entire arena floor, and then to the cage walls, where they began to climb. Staff began to pile onto the arena floor, attempting to talk sense into Ratt, or threaten him into calling it quits. Ratt - pale and sweaty and skinning - began throwing around guys twice his size with ease, his ranting drowned out by the crackling flames.

Then, the explosion. The pyre in the cage erupted, becoming a towering inferno that consumed the entire cage. Tongues of flames and blasts of heat licked at the rafter, causing lights and electrical cables to spark and explode, the fire catching and spreading to the roof. Unlike with Cabela the Ponyta, the cage could not handle the roaring flames, as Crim could see the metal turn cherry red and begin to melt and drip.

That cold, sick feeling in him spread to his entire body, leaving him trembling. It was like, it was like… like he was seven all over again. Back in his hometown when the attack began, and turned everything to ruins…

“Crim! Crim! We have to go!” Joy called at him, snapping him out of his flashback by tugging at his arms. All around them, a crush of people were fleeing from the flames, straight up just jumping from the bleachers to avoid the incoming disaster.

Taking hold of Joy by the arm again, Crim took his friend into the sea of fleeing people and got as far away from the crazed Battlers as possible, their cackling shadows projected like demons on the screen of fire.

They got maybe fifty yards away from the warehouse, when the roof of the building exploded outward like a volcano, belching fire and smoke into the city.

////

No poll this time, though the previous one is now closed and we have our Partner Pokémon. Some surprises, some not so much. I think, given cart blanche with the Mons I gave you, I would have picked a team of Latias, Primarina, and Cinderace. Or Houndoom. What about you? What were your picks for Crim's three partners?