The roar of battle was loud, sure, but steady. Like the crash of waves on the shore. Growls, squawks, yips, and bellows interspersed by the typical trainer clichés. 'Hang in there!' 'Just one more shot!' 'Give it your all!' He was so used to it that it was almost like a music box at this point. Rupert could just feel the lazy fog of sleep begin to settle over him as he sat on the bench. It was good: he needed it. He'd been feeling like crap for the past few days, but he'd managed to come into work. Money doesn't grow on trees, after all. Still, if no one was here, then this would be a good spot... right here on the bench... to just slowly fade aw...
"Dear Sir," the phrase slammed into his ears like a steam engine, "Would you happen to be a referee?" Rupert about fell to the floor in startlement.
When his eyes flicked open, Rupert was staring at a young, overdressed lad with a bold, hopeful attitude and a contagious smile. He couldn't help but give a tired sigh. All the typical marks of a new trainer. Rupert felt his indigestion kick up, "Eh?"
"Erm... I asked, are you a referee?"
Rupert scratched his shaggy beard. Of course he was a referee, he was wearing the suit, wasn't he? I swear, they're handing out a trainer's license to every god-damned child with a lollypo-"Um Hm." was what he said.
"Could I implore your assistance in the regulation and recording of our first Pokémon battle!?" the kid asked him, the last words said as if he were being invited to a Royal Opera.
Rupert's stomach growled, and he sniffed, "Um Hm." He took a second to collect himself before rising, a series of cracks racing down his spine and legs. Maybe he really should see someone about this. After the match...
"Alright." the big man said, his the illness adding grit to his already-gruff voice. He coughed, "Let me see your licenses." Hm... a Rumo and an Arthur Hanlin. The faces checked out; Rumo, the magician, somehow managed to get a picture of himself worthy of placing on the wall. Why didn't Rupert ever have luck like that? "Alright, checks out. The field over there." he pointed in a general direction before shuffling over to the sidelines.
The royal boy nearly floated to the battlefield like a Whimsicott. Looked like the kid that'd run into a cave for the glint of a Sableye's glare. To the other kid's credit, he had a more cautious, observant look. He watched the field, his opponent, and the other battles closely. The closer Rupert looked, that caution might even be... Terror. The child had the license, sure but... It looked like he'd never held a ball before.
'Who the hell gave these kids licenses?' was what he thought. He said, "Alright, typical regulation rules. Go ahead." Rupert hoped it'd be a decent fight, but he didn't bet on it. At least he'd get some money.
Rumo's ball was let fly with an impressive corkscrew, rolling around the feet of his Deerling as it leapt free before bouncing back to his hand. Arthur tossed his quickly, as if it might bite him, and only just managed to catch it on its return flight.
The match wasn't a good one; nothing to put into the history books or even a journal entry. Just like any other early trainer battle, there was just a lot of bodies colliding as Pokémon used the only move they knew over and over. But Rupert couldn't help being a little impressed by Rumo's tricks, or Arthur's keen eyes. Rupert burped. Or maybe it was just his indigestion.
Towards the end, the battle got more desperate, and Rupert could see each Pokémon straining themselves. There might just be an exciting ending after all... But then the match drew. No winner, but more importantly, no loser. So no money.
'They're just kids. They're just kids. They're just...' "Do either of you have any more Pokémon? If not, I'll need to take you to the Pokecenter."
Of course they didn't. Rupert snorted, and began escorting them toward the door. Two other people intercepted their path: one who actually looked like he had his life together. Probably a breeder, by the look of the bulge in his bag that was probably an incubator, and probably a decent trainer to have caught a Skarmory so early. The other... A charity case? Maybe she was paid to carry their extra supplies: her pack seemed bursting with tools, after all. Whatever they were giving her, she needed more by the looks of her clothes.
"You guys done with your measuring contest?" the little girl asked with surprising sass for a glorified Mudsdale.
"Are you in trouble?" the other one wondered with some concern.
"Nah." Rupert interrupts, "Just lost all their Pokémon and need to visit a center."
"Oh, we can take them there."
"Yeah! And maybe the nurse will know about some people we can help."
Rupert just grunted, "Suit yourself.", shuffling slowly behind them as they absconded the gym. He had decided to cut the day short and visit his sister at the University. She wasn't a medical doctor, but she was free and, as he said, money doesn't grow on trees.
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"I can't believe you found a heat rock just sitting in the trash can Lyla!" The voice was familiar. A little grating. Rupert had just managed to make his slow and steady way to the center on his way up to the University when he saw the motley pack saunter out of it.
"Yeah; people toss stuff like that all the time. Such a waste." Then Rupert saw the four of them, "We rangers are taught to use everything we can."
'A ranger? Really? That bundle of rags? Who the hell was giving out these licenses!?' He just dipped his head and moseyed past them. He wandered a little way by before they thundered through him again, talking with the clamor and speed that only youth affords. So they were headed up the hill too? Well, there are plenty of places they could be headed. What young trainer wants to go to a school anyways? Isn't avoiding school half the reason they become trainers?
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"We're going to jail Jozari!"
Rupert groaned. He'd *just* made it to the University courtyard, and he could hear *that* voice bouncing around the walls like a Drifblim in a windstorm, "You can't just steal an egg!"
"I didn't steal it, they gave it to me."
"They thought you were a student!"
Rupert didn't know. Rupert didn't *want* to know. But at the speed his feet took him, he would know.
"Okay, okay. What if I *promise* to take the Pokémon back when it hatches, will that calm you down?"
"You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Okay... I'm still not happy about it though."
An egg thief breeder. I swear they just throw licenses in the wind and let people catch them.
"So how do we find out what's going on?" the little squirt asked, "We don't know anything new."
"I know!" Rumo exclaimed proudly, "We'll have a performance! Right here in the courtyard! With Arthur and myself showcasing our powers, so people know we can get the job done!"
Rupert's fingers clamped on the bridge of his nose, 'A show in the middle of the day. In the middle of classes? As if they weren't loud enough just having a conversation!'
"Or we could just look ourselves? I've got an idea of where Pokémon might be picking on people."
There was some more discussion, and then they were off. Finally some peace. It'd be good to see Martha and have some nice, quiet company.
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You know what? This *was* relaxing. His sister could not have been more right: some fresh air and natural elements were *exactly* what he needed. Rupert practically melted into the park bench, his eyes closed with his skin pleasantly warmed in the sunlight. He could hear the bugs buzzing, the trees' branches playing with the wind, the sound of birds... screeching.
He bolted upright, bright colors assailing his eyes. Streaks of red, shining metal, and colorful clothes dashed across his vision. "Well I'm going to catch it." Rupert heard as the forms distinguished themselves from the chromatic noise.
'What vengeful god...' he wondered absent-mindedly. They didn't look any more competent in the new setting. Each one crashed through the brush like a startled Deerling, their eyes wide with excitement and panic. The "it" was a brightly colored bird, and the speaker was Arthur, stumbling forward while holding his Litleo in one hand and a poke ball in the other. A feeble toss saw the ball bounce ineffectually off the flier, and made the Pokémon spin around in annoyance. Rupert settled into the bench; he would help if it came to that, but for now it'd be nice to see his harriers get some payback.
Then, an orb of force launched from the timid one's hand, missing the... Oricorio, that's what it was, by a good three strides, but blasting a hole in the branches the size of Rupert’s head. 'What the hell...' The bird and the boy were only more irritated and scared as a result, but that... Had that been a new item? Maybe, but Rupert wasn't so sure it should be used in Pokémon battles.
Regardless, the crew finally found their footing and sent their Pokémon in, rather than themselves. At a word, the little girl's Skarmory blew the threat away. There was shouting and scolding about pissing off Pokémon, and Rupert scoffed; 'He's probably the only trainer in the region who needs to be told that.'
Another outburst nearly sent Rupert's bones out of his body. More crashes as twigs and branches were broken, and the loudest one, Revo? Remo? came tumbling through the brush, yelling about ghosts and balloons. After a quick rendezvous with the others, they all headed out to start the next day fresh.
'What *are* these kids doing with licenses?' he realized the thought was less rhetorical now. They weren't your typical batch of trainers, no it'd been a mistake to assume that. There was something more to each of them than met the eye. An urchin with a badge. A conniving breeder. A performing noble with a tactical mind. A novice that could throw balls of force.
Rupert realized that he would probably be seeing them again in the gym. Stronger, smarter, and more coordinated. His head didn't quite agree, but he knew it was true, deep in his guts. He burped. Or maybe that was just the indigestion.
"Dear Sir," the phrase slammed into his ears like a steam engine, "Would you happen to be a referee?" Rupert about fell to the floor in startlement.
When his eyes flicked open, Rupert was staring at a young, overdressed lad with a bold, hopeful attitude and a contagious smile. He couldn't help but give a tired sigh. All the typical marks of a new trainer. Rupert felt his indigestion kick up, "Eh?"
"Erm... I asked, are you a referee?"
Rupert scratched his shaggy beard. Of course he was a referee, he was wearing the suit, wasn't he? I swear, they're handing out a trainer's license to every god-damned child with a lollypo-"Um Hm." was what he said.
"Could I implore your assistance in the regulation and recording of our first Pokémon battle!?" the kid asked him, the last words said as if he were being invited to a Royal Opera.
Rupert's stomach growled, and he sniffed, "Um Hm." He took a second to collect himself before rising, a series of cracks racing down his spine and legs. Maybe he really should see someone about this. After the match...
"Alright." the big man said, his the illness adding grit to his already-gruff voice. He coughed, "Let me see your licenses." Hm... a Rumo and an Arthur Hanlin. The faces checked out; Rumo, the magician, somehow managed to get a picture of himself worthy of placing on the wall. Why didn't Rupert ever have luck like that? "Alright, checks out. The field over there." he pointed in a general direction before shuffling over to the sidelines.
The royal boy nearly floated to the battlefield like a Whimsicott. Looked like the kid that'd run into a cave for the glint of a Sableye's glare. To the other kid's credit, he had a more cautious, observant look. He watched the field, his opponent, and the other battles closely. The closer Rupert looked, that caution might even be... Terror. The child had the license, sure but... It looked like he'd never held a ball before.
'Who the hell gave these kids licenses?' was what he thought. He said, "Alright, typical regulation rules. Go ahead." Rupert hoped it'd be a decent fight, but he didn't bet on it. At least he'd get some money.
Rumo's ball was let fly with an impressive corkscrew, rolling around the feet of his Deerling as it leapt free before bouncing back to his hand. Arthur tossed his quickly, as if it might bite him, and only just managed to catch it on its return flight.
The match wasn't a good one; nothing to put into the history books or even a journal entry. Just like any other early trainer battle, there was just a lot of bodies colliding as Pokémon used the only move they knew over and over. But Rupert couldn't help being a little impressed by Rumo's tricks, or Arthur's keen eyes. Rupert burped. Or maybe it was just his indigestion.
Towards the end, the battle got more desperate, and Rupert could see each Pokémon straining themselves. There might just be an exciting ending after all... But then the match drew. No winner, but more importantly, no loser. So no money.
'They're just kids. They're just kids. They're just...' "Do either of you have any more Pokémon? If not, I'll need to take you to the Pokecenter."
Of course they didn't. Rupert snorted, and began escorting them toward the door. Two other people intercepted their path: one who actually looked like he had his life together. Probably a breeder, by the look of the bulge in his bag that was probably an incubator, and probably a decent trainer to have caught a Skarmory so early. The other... A charity case? Maybe she was paid to carry their extra supplies: her pack seemed bursting with tools, after all. Whatever they were giving her, she needed more by the looks of her clothes.
"You guys done with your measuring contest?" the little girl asked with surprising sass for a glorified Mudsdale.
"Are you in trouble?" the other one wondered with some concern.
"Nah." Rupert interrupts, "Just lost all their Pokémon and need to visit a center."
"Oh, we can take them there."
"Yeah! And maybe the nurse will know about some people we can help."
Rupert just grunted, "Suit yourself.", shuffling slowly behind them as they absconded the gym. He had decided to cut the day short and visit his sister at the University. She wasn't a medical doctor, but she was free and, as he said, money doesn't grow on trees.
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"I can't believe you found a heat rock just sitting in the trash can Lyla!" The voice was familiar. A little grating. Rupert had just managed to make his slow and steady way to the center on his way up to the University when he saw the motley pack saunter out of it.
"Yeah; people toss stuff like that all the time. Such a waste." Then Rupert saw the four of them, "We rangers are taught to use everything we can."
'A ranger? Really? That bundle of rags? Who the hell was giving out these licenses!?' He just dipped his head and moseyed past them. He wandered a little way by before they thundered through him again, talking with the clamor and speed that only youth affords. So they were headed up the hill too? Well, there are plenty of places they could be headed. What young trainer wants to go to a school anyways? Isn't avoiding school half the reason they become trainers?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We're going to jail Jozari!"
Rupert groaned. He'd *just* made it to the University courtyard, and he could hear *that* voice bouncing around the walls like a Drifblim in a windstorm, "You can't just steal an egg!"
"I didn't steal it, they gave it to me."
"They thought you were a student!"
Rupert didn't know. Rupert didn't *want* to know. But at the speed his feet took him, he would know.
"Okay, okay. What if I *promise* to take the Pokémon back when it hatches, will that calm you down?"
"You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Okay... I'm still not happy about it though."
An egg thief breeder. I swear they just throw licenses in the wind and let people catch them.
"So how do we find out what's going on?" the little squirt asked, "We don't know anything new."
"I know!" Rumo exclaimed proudly, "We'll have a performance! Right here in the courtyard! With Arthur and myself showcasing our powers, so people know we can get the job done!"
Rupert's fingers clamped on the bridge of his nose, 'A show in the middle of the day. In the middle of classes? As if they weren't loud enough just having a conversation!'
"Or we could just look ourselves? I've got an idea of where Pokémon might be picking on people."
There was some more discussion, and then they were off. Finally some peace. It'd be good to see Martha and have some nice, quiet company.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You know what? This *was* relaxing. His sister could not have been more right: some fresh air and natural elements were *exactly* what he needed. Rupert practically melted into the park bench, his eyes closed with his skin pleasantly warmed in the sunlight. He could hear the bugs buzzing, the trees' branches playing with the wind, the sound of birds... screeching.
He bolted upright, bright colors assailing his eyes. Streaks of red, shining metal, and colorful clothes dashed across his vision. "Well I'm going to catch it." Rupert heard as the forms distinguished themselves from the chromatic noise.
'What vengeful god...' he wondered absent-mindedly. They didn't look any more competent in the new setting. Each one crashed through the brush like a startled Deerling, their eyes wide with excitement and panic. The "it" was a brightly colored bird, and the speaker was Arthur, stumbling forward while holding his Litleo in one hand and a poke ball in the other. A feeble toss saw the ball bounce ineffectually off the flier, and made the Pokémon spin around in annoyance. Rupert settled into the bench; he would help if it came to that, but for now it'd be nice to see his harriers get some payback.
Then, an orb of force launched from the timid one's hand, missing the... Oricorio, that's what it was, by a good three strides, but blasting a hole in the branches the size of Rupert’s head. 'What the hell...' The bird and the boy were only more irritated and scared as a result, but that... Had that been a new item? Maybe, but Rupert wasn't so sure it should be used in Pokémon battles.
Regardless, the crew finally found their footing and sent their Pokémon in, rather than themselves. At a word, the little girl's Skarmory blew the threat away. There was shouting and scolding about pissing off Pokémon, and Rupert scoffed; 'He's probably the only trainer in the region who needs to be told that.'
Another outburst nearly sent Rupert's bones out of his body. More crashes as twigs and branches were broken, and the loudest one, Revo? Remo? came tumbling through the brush, yelling about ghosts and balloons. After a quick rendezvous with the others, they all headed out to start the next day fresh.
'What *are* these kids doing with licenses?' he realized the thought was less rhetorical now. They weren't your typical batch of trainers, no it'd been a mistake to assume that. There was something more to each of them than met the eye. An urchin with a badge. A conniving breeder. A performing noble with a tactical mind. A novice that could throw balls of force.
Rupert realized that he would probably be seeing them again in the gym. Stronger, smarter, and more coordinated. His head didn't quite agree, but he knew it was true, deep in his guts. He burped. Or maybe that was just the indigestion.