Underdepths Part 1: Desperation

The morning was radiant, illuminating the dull and dirty streets of Butterfield. The faint songs of wild Swablu hummed in the air. A breeze made the windmill rotate its blades at a glacial but pleasant pace.

Right outside Team Venture’s cave, Surge sat on the plush grass, indulging himself in a bunch of apples from their last exploration. The apples had withstood the test of time without a single sign of decay, and he was grateful for this quality amidst the deprivation of an ice box. Shade lay next to him, struggling to keep her baggy eye open.

“Eat this, Shade,” said Surge, offering her an apple. “It might energize you.”

“I’m tired…” Shade mumbled, rubbing her eye with the edge of a paw. “Couldn’t sleep well last night…” As the cool breeze of morning ruffled her fur, she let out a voluminous yawn that bared her dainty fangs. “A good sleep is foreign to me…”

“I understand,” Surge replied softly. “It’s part of the baggage a vagrant carries.”

A handful of Pokémon with tools in their appendages traversed the street in front of Surge and the drowsy Shade. While not as spellbinding as the panoramic view of Old Town from the Pinkerton Guild, it still signified blue-collar tranquility amidst a hive of impoverished acrimony.

Just then, Surge’s ears twitched at a heavy scrape. He turned his head to find Rhyzo walking toward him and dragging an uprooted tree across the ground. “Today, can we sell the pearl?” he asked. “Let’s take a break from dungeoneering.”

“Your plan is the same as mine, for once,” Rhyzo scoffed, tossing the tree on the ground without breaking a sweat. “Get on here. You don’t want mud in your asses, do you?”

Surge got up and settled on the trunk, but Shade’s fatigue anchored her to the ground. “Get up, you night Rowlet!” Rhyzo snorted, tapping his hoof beside her sprawled form. “Look what your resistance to sleep has done to you. If you don’t get ready, you’ll stumble around in the store, snap something pricey with your horn, and get us exiled from that store for the rest of our lives.”

Shade groaned and rose to her paws with trembles of tiredness. She fluttered her eye and shook grass blades off her fur. “As you wish…” she sputtered before she started to lick her paws clean.

“Will we go house hunting in the afternoon?” Surge continued.

Rhyzo grunted, “If we loiter all over Treasure City, we might get caught by a Braviary-eyed certified team. We must plan our new home carefully. No fancy boroughs like Asterford.” He rubbed his hands together and flashed a big grin. “Why don’t we make up for that Combee onslaught by kicking some criminal ass?”

Surge groaned and clenched his fists. After the Combee debacle, a battle was the last thing on his mind. “It won’t hurt to rest,” he moaned. “Taxing ourselves in constant battles will only hinder our health.”

“After that shitshow, I’m only raring to get Team Venture back to winning ways! We’ll even do a favor for the law enforcement.”

“Shouldn’t it be the duty of the law enforcement to track the criminals down instead of letting them create chaos?”

“If we went down like pins to mere Combee, imagine the hell the Renegades will inflict upon us. Get a damn grip!”

“Rhyzo, you-“

“This just in from the Treasure City Times!”

A Murkrow bellowed from above with a newspaper in her talons. Surge, Rhyzo and Shade raised their heads at the earnest corvid.

“A newsie, huh?” Rhyzo said in a more settled tone. “How much is that paper?”

“Only two golds, Rhydon,” the Murkrow agreed, bowing her head.

“Shade, go and get two gold coins from inside,” he ordered.

Shade fought off her morning fatigue to enter the cave. She returned with two coins held delicately between her lips. The Murkrow dropped the paper in Rhyzo’s claws and accepted the modest payment in exchange before flapping away.

“Surge, read this with me,” Rhyzo said, brandishing the newspaper. “Time for you to fill in the blanks of Pokémon species! And make your Aura vision functional.”

“Alright.”

The headline made Rhyzo’s eyes widen. He began to read it aloud.

“Film Industry Tragedy: Renowned Director Found Dead In Home. Authorities Suspect Murder.”

“M-m-murder?!” Shade gasped, her fur raised.

“Shh.” Rhyzo gestured to his jaws before continuing with the headline. “Tempura Carpainter, the Smeargle who has directed many famous films like ‘Raiders of the Lost Dungeon’ and ‘Final Frontiers’, was found dead in his home yesterday.”

He pointed to the mugshot of the late director. “Look here. He is a Smeargle, a Pokémon who can draw with his tail. Don’t let that unassuming face fool you. He can copy any move, even Dialga’s signature Roar of Time.”

“Can you continue with the headline?” Surge inquired. The crime was something he’d rather not know, but it was as alluring as a detective story, a ball of yarn with threads to pull.

“You refuse to step into any battles yet you want to read about a grisly murder? Damn your hypocrisy!”

“At least it’s the perpetrator’s fault, not mine! I can’t do anything about this horror,” Surge countered in annoyance. “I should be aware of the current affairs of this world, right? Please have some patience.”

“Alright then,” he confided. “A forensic report found traces of poison in Carpainter’s blood, indicating he died in a poisoning incident. This harrowing news comes in the wake of his latest release, the reboot of the popular ‘Champion of the Lock’ series, which faced heavy criticism for dropping many characters from the cast.”

“A poisoning?” Surge speculated, putting a paw to his chin. “Isn’t there an elemental type called Poison?”

“Yes,” Rhyzo replied, skimming the report. “It’s suspected that Carpainted was killed with a Poison-type move like Toxic or Poison Jab. But remember that Poison moves are not restricted to Poison-types. It’s the same for every other type.”

Surge nodded before Rhyzo flipped the page. “Hey! Why are you turning the page?” he questioned.

“Just another Pokédex gap filled in for you,” scoffed Rhyzo as he landed in the newspaper’s finance section. “Here’s your next species.”

“You’re being abrupt! Can you at least let us process the headline?”

“Stop whining and look at this picture!” Rhyzo demanded, tapping the newspaper again. “This is a Rhyperior, a burly Ground and Rock rhino with orange plates all over its body. It is the evolution of Rhydon, triggered by a special protector rock.”

“That’s your species, right? Why don’t you evolve into a Rhyperior and gain a power boost?”

“Seriously?!” he snapped, cringing at the prospect. “How can I move around in an ugly potbelly like this? I’m fine with my Rhydon body.”

Surge read the article under the picture: Geovn Rockwrecker to Launch New Project at Business Conference Today. “Rhyzo, who’s Geovn Rockwrecker?” he asked. “Is he the Rhyperior in the picture?”

“Yup. He’s the honcho of Rock Foundation, the richest company in the world. It makes everything from Distant Orbs to advanced dungeon gear.”

“Hmm, a circumstance opposite of ours,” Surge commented as he pondered over the enigmatic Rhyperior. Judging from Rhyzo’s tidbits of information, the chasm between the world’s loftiest chairman and a bunch of scrappy survivors like Team Venture could not be any less wide. Geovn was a mountain in both the physical and metaphorical senses of the word, waiting to be scaled by an extraordinary Pokémon in pursuit of a special purpose.

A flashy advertisement at the bottom of the page struck Surge’s eyes. It depicted a gorgeous serpentine Pokémon with flowing auburn hair and glistening scales. The Pokémon gave a wink with their ruby eyes as they wore a shimmering pearl pendant around their neck.

“Who’s that Pokémon, Rhyzo?” Surge sighed, amazed by its distilled elegance.

“Milotic,” Rhyzo replied bluntly, more interested in the advertisement’s words than its spokesmon. “It’s a sturdy Water-type leaned toward special stats.”

“Isn’t she beautiful, that Milotic? What an apt Pokémon for a jewelry advertisement.”

“Did you say jewelry?” Rhyzo piped up, scanning the text for the address. “Covet Collection, Lilifax.” He turned to Surge with a grin. “Hey, you’ve just cut out our hunt for a jewelry store,” he thanked. “Let’s get moving.” He displayed the page to Shade. “You too.”

Reeling from the gruesome headline, Shade blinked at the newspaper. “Where are we going?”

“To Lilifax. We’ll sell the pearl there.”

Shade agreed and got onto her paws. A first visit to a jewelry store was like a first vacation abroad in her eyes. Just three days ago, she had been scavenging discarded food to survive, and now she’s stepping into a frivolous luxury store?

Surge and Rhyzo… she mused. They’re not as bad as I feared, Surge more so. But I managed to keep my secret under wraps. If they ever strip that secret… Disturbing scenes razed her mind and threatened to let out the waterworks, but she soldered on in the present, searching for her bag. Team Venture began to prepare themselves for their first venture outside the confines of a penniless environment.

---

Disappointment, an emotion greater than the sum of its letters. Something you believed would lift your spirits instead drags you to the depths of shame. Hope is defeated and cynicism basks in its putrid victory, shattering the dreams you’ve conjured in excitement.

Team Venture trudged along the faded pavement of Butterfield with that exact emotion. The pearl, their hard-earned treasure from Drenched Bluff which took two arduous explorations to achieve? Only worth 500 golds, according to the Covet Collection jeweler. They expected a windfall about ten, even a hundred times bigger. Instead, they received peanuts, an amount only equal to the bill of your average diner.

Despite the destruction of their first sign of potential, Surge was confident of the silver linings of the pickings. “Rhyzo, why don’t we purchase a bed for these 500 golds?” he suggested, pulling a pouch of coins out of his sling bag. “The ground’s too uncomfortable to sleep on.”

“Useless for me,” Rhyzo rejected as a sharp edge sizzled in his voice, preoccupied with the prospect of a Hammer Arm to the jeweler. “It would be perfect for Shade though,” he added dismissively, glancing at the indifferent Absol.

“Hey, I need a bed too, and we can’t share a single one… for obvious reasons.”

“Surge,” Shade spoke up, turning her head to him. “You can have the bed to yourself. I’ve slept on hard surfaces all my life.”

“Then it is you who should claim the bed,” Surge replied in a warm tone. “You’re deprived of a basic necessity. Trust me, it could get you more sleep.”

Shade shook her head, her expression as still as a statue. “You don’t need to sacrifice. I’m used to a hard life.”

“Instead of arguing over who gets the bed,” blurted Rhyzo, kicking a stone on the pavement. “why don’t we spend those 500 golds on something productive? Let’s buy a fire-type TM to roast Smite.”

“T what?” Surge wondered.

Rhyzo explained TMs to the amnesiac. “TMs will give us an edge in dungeoneering. We wouldn’t have had our asses handed to puny Combee yesterday if you or Shade packed an Aerial Ace.”

Surge clenched his fists. “Battles, battles, battles,” he whined. “Can’t you just think of the finer things in life? A good night’s rest is more important to health than fancy attacks.”

“You dare to chew me out again?!” Rhyzo rebutted, gritting his teeth. “I saved your Mewdamn life and you repay me by throwing crap at everything I say?!”

The atmosphere around Team Venture crackled with Surge’s stern warnings and Rhyzo’s profane rants, which combined to form a distinctive cacophony of chaos. Shade backed off from the tense thrum. For partners, they do quarrel a lot, she silently remarked. Their personalities were destined to clash, not complement each other.

“What’s all this heat?” a gruff voice roared.

Surge and Rhyzo terminated their verbal wrestling match and turned to their sides.

An Incineroar and an Inteleon sauntered at Team Venture, jiggling sacks of money in their claws. Their hides were canvases of cut scars, and their smiles paraded their rows of sharp teeth.

Rhyzo’s eyes bulged at their money bags. “Wealth?!” he snapped in a mixture of awe and jealousy. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“We’ve just emerged from the Butterfield Bonanza!” the Incineroar chuckled, “Haven’t you heard?”

“What’s this bonanza?”

“It’s a ring where we battle in exchange for cash,” the Inteleon hissed, rubbing his long fingers. “The more wins you string, the bigger your paycheck. Today I racked up a KO count of 13 and got 5000 golds in return.”

Rhyzo grinned from ear to ear. A miracle has arrived. Right when he was buried under the debris of his shattered ambitions, these two heroes pulled him out. Incineroar and Inteleon were the kinds of teammates he clamored for, proud warriors who did not fear the gavel of law. It was as if Arceus himself had heard his lament of disappointment.

“Holy shit!” he hailed, raising his claws. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to build a fortune!” He shook claws with the Inteleon. “You two are miracles, honestly.”

“Now listen your hearts to this,” the Inteleon announced in a whisper. “Remember that the Bonanza is an underground battle arena, and the authorities hate that. Keep this paradise as a barricaded secret. Never let those humorless dungeoneers ever learn about it.”

“Why, we’re technically criminals ourselves.” Rhyzo nonchalantly crossed his arms. “We’re unauthorized dungeoneers, and we plan to stay that way. But whatever wealth we find is raw ore that’s worthless without minting.”

“Then we’ve given you the most satisfying payback,” the Incineroar cajoled, flaunting his money bag. “What about you, Lucario? Tired of being a goody-two-paws all the time?”

“No thanks,” Surge replied in boredom, closing his eyes and cocking his snout away. “I’m not one for battles.”

“A Lucario who’s not chummy with battling? What a rare phrase. Ahahahaha!” The Incineroar belted out a loud laugh and eyed Shade. “Absol, aren’t you going to sniff out the disastrous losses? You’ll be a money saver.”

“N-not into it,” Shade stammered as she paced backward, intimidated by the Incineroar.

“What disappointing partners you’ve got there, Rhydon,” the Incineroar remarked. “We’d have loved to take you to the Bonanza, but we must skedaddle before some cop or dungeoneer spots us. Bye-bye!”

“Wait!” Rhyzo interjected, extending his arm. “Where’s it being held?”

“Go to the Loopy Beedrill pub,” the Inteleon replied as he walked with the Incineroar. “You’ll know the rest.” They were off with a swish.

To Surge, the underground ring had some teething issues. Species recognition aside, the battlers emanated suspicious vibes. Why were they showing off their money bags like nouveau riche lottery winners? Why did the burly black tiger mock him and Shade in plain sight? Why would the skinny blue lizard whisper something in Rhyzo’s ears otherwise? Of course, they were desperate for a stable income, but Rhyzo was too stubborn to take up a simple job and traverse the slow and steady path.

An enraptured Rhyzo grinned at Surge and Shade and said, “Ready to come to the Loopy Beedrill with me?”

“Those Pokémon look like crooks,” Surge replied in skepticism. “I’m afraid it might even be a trap the Renegades are behind.”

“No need to worry. If we smell any Renegade we’ll scoot. You don’t need to bring your, ahem, special talent to the table,” he ended with sarcasm.

“I don’t need to fight?” Surge beamed, clasping his paws. “Thank you!” He sighed and ran a paw across his forehead. “How did we go from a heated argument to a mutual agreement in the span of a few minutes?”

“The Bonanza offers what we need most, money and battles, as complements. Since I’m the only one who’s strong, I’ll do all the heavy lifting there. You just handle the payments.”

“Agreed.” Surge nodded, his smile hiding his wariness.

As Team Venture resumed walking with renewed purpose, Surge discussed his reservations.

“Shade, I’m having the heebie-jeebies about this,” he regretted, looking into her uncovered eye. “We have to dip our paws into a shady activity, but starving to death without any money would be worse. It’s baneful to go to such lengths to survive.”

“I’ve stolen food in the past. I’m on a similar boat.”

---

After some spoonfeeding in directions, Team Venture approached a striking wooden sign. It depicted a cross-eyed, tottery Beedrill with a foaming mug of ale around one of its needle arms.

“The Loopy Beedrill…” Surge read aloud the scripture under the Beedrill. “That’s it. We’ve reached the venue!”

Rhyzo pushed the pub’s batwing doors open just by walking through them, letting his hefty body do the action. Surge and Shade followed him together. They stepped into an empty minimalist room. It was enveloped in a murky brown, with only a small window preventing a blackout. A Mewtwo mural on the wall was faintly visible under the diminished light. The only Pokémon inside were the Beedrill bartender, mixing something in a glass with his arm, and a portly Lickitung beside one of the handful of tables, guzzling a giant jug of Grepa wine down his massive tongue.

“Good afternoon, newbiezzz!” the Beedrill welcomed. “Would you like zome drinkzzz?”

“No thanks,” said Rhyzo, squinting his eyes in an attempt to deduce the dark environment. “Is there some sort of Bonanza going on in here?”

The Beedrill understood the context. “Then honezly, are you from a guild? Pleaze don’t cloze down my pub. I’m a poor Beedrill who needzz your zympathy.”

“Screw guilds,” Rhyzo snickered, pounding a clenched fist into his hand. “We’re unauthorized nobodies. One day, we’ll crush all of Team Renegade before any certified snob does. Where are all the battlers?”

The Beedrill hovered with zing and said, “Figure it out yourzelf. I can’t zpill it out.”

“You got gut to think you’re better than Team Elution and Team Dino Mite,” the Lickitung challenged in a slow and husky voice, staggering in his seat. “You have bad matchup against Team Runner Gay.”

“I’ll fix that with Fire Punch,” Rhyzo enthused. “Do you know how to get to the Bonanza?”

With a quivering hand, the Lickitung grabbed one of many glasses on his table and gulped down the Grepa wine inside. “Basement…” he slurred. “I dunno. I got conked by a… a Busty Don or something. Buuurrrpp.” He let out an explosive belch. Surge, Rhyzo and Shade covered their noses from the stench it set off.

“Where’s the basement?”

“You fly up there. It’s full of Volbeat and Illumise. So lovely. As bright… attack tiff as Team Dynamite’s stunts.”

Rhyzo slapped his horn.

“That’s what you get when you ask directions from a drunkard,” Surge remarked to Rhyzo, waving off the stench. “Why don’t you ask the bartender once more?”

“I can’t reveal the goodzzz!” the Beedrill told Surge from his counter with his needles against the railings. “The Bonanza iz a puzzle to zolve. A lock to pick. Uze your witzz before you can tezt your powerzzz.”

As the Lickitung’s belch faded, Surge took on the role of prospector. In the thick of his inebriation, he managed to mention a basement. But the basement itself is a mystery. Is it really located above the ceiling just to confuse dungeoneers? Or is the alcohol orchestrating lies? I must think outside the box. He closed his eyes to concentrate.

A colorful throng of Aura signatures glimmered under Surge’s feet and almost lifted them. That must be the basement! he deduced, recognizing a Vespiquen among the signatures. Now I must find the entrance. He turned everywhere with his eyes shut but found no trace of a stairway.

Surge opened his eyes again and began to locate the stairway normally with Rhyzo and Shade. They stopped in front of the mural, which touched the floor, and Surge asked about the identity of its subject.

“He’s Mewtwo, the strongest Pokémon in the world,” Rhyzo explained with vigor as Surge observed the Psychic-type’s muscular frame, cold violet eyes and posture of zeal. “No other mortal or legendary can come close to him. He is the symbol of the fighting spirit, the personification of power and might.”

“Fighting, power and might?” Surge commented. “From your knowledge, I reckon he’s an avatar of battles.” He pressed the mural out of curiosity. “Maybe this mural is marking the battle ring.”

The mural appeared to lean against Surge’s paw. He pressed harder, and the mural swung open. “And I’m right!” he exclaimed. “It’s a disguised door!”

Rhyzo barged into the secret entrance. Surge and Shade followed suit, with the latter closing the door. With care, they trekked down a pitch-black rock tunnel and passed through the brilliant light at its end.

A cavalcade of lights stunned Team Venture. Once they got used to the brighter environment, they discovered an array of huge hexagonal steel cages. Luminous Orbs on the ceiling shone in all colors, creating a garish palette the cages gleamed under. Dozens of spectators crowded under the cages, shaking the arena with their passionate roars. The pulsating hordes of each cage merged to form a viscous sea of bodies.

To avoid being caught in a stampede, Surge, Rhyzo and Shade stayed away from the hordes. The task was easier said than done. The hordes swallowed most of the space reserved for navigation, leaving only a narrow web of open space. They looked at the cage to their left. Inside this cage, a Machamp was pummeling a fainted Slaking. His brutal punches managed to stay audible amid the twisted cheers of the audience.

Surge and Shade immediately turned away from the atrocity. Shade began to crouch and cower, covering both her functional and concealed eye with her forepaws.

“What’s wrong, Shade?” Surge muttered, staring at his frightened friend.

“C-c-can’t l-l-look,” Shade squirmed, feeling tears under her paws. “T-t-too c-close, too close!”

“You can’t stand such violence? Stay near me,” said Surge, lending a paw. “I’ll shield your eye from these vile battles.” His heart melted at how the Absol’s shell of stoicism cracked under a single sight. He wondered how Shade spent her life slogging through the seedy streets of Butterfield, witnessing distressing scenes every day.

Shade retained her crawled position. “No,” she answered. “That would be worse.” Surge could hear her voice break.

While Surge did his best to uplift her, Rhyzo was chatting with the owner of the ring, a Honchkrow adorned with rings, pendants and gems. “Your arena is the shit, Corveone!” he appreciated, spinning his horn in anticipation of a battle. “How did you build so much under this dingy pub?”

“I’m sick of being an average deliverymon,” the Honchkrow bragged, jingling a chain around one of his talons. “Look at the elite teams in Dungeon Weekly and all their fancy toys. So I set up this ring to satisfy my two hottest amours, money and battles.”

“Do you have a free cage?”

“There’s one at the other end. Flare the Salazzle will give you all the pointers.”

As Rhyzo took Surge and Shade across the arena, they passed by hawkers of saucy amateur comics, bookmakers with wads of golds, and even a peddler advertising X-Eye Seed powder. They stopped at a heated sight. A Zangoose was pinning a Seviper againt the ground, charging a Crush Claw. The Seviper intercepted the Crush Claw with a swinging tail and Poison Jabbed the Zangoose’s stomach.

“Why are you fighting here?” Surge cried in aghast, covering Shade’s eyes. “There are already plenty of cages where you can take the action. You might hit a bystander by accident!”

“Mukshit!” the Zangoose dismissed, swiping at the Seviper’s scales with Slash.

“Let me exterminate this bloody furball first,” the Seviper snarled, crushing the Zangoose against his coiled body.

Surge was forced to let the eternal enemies brawl as he held the paw of a distressed Shade. Everyone else in the arena brushed off this misplaced battle as if it were a stray empty food can. Shade’s sanity was being shredded by the vicious atmosphere, and he wanted Rhyzo’s tryst to be over quickly.

Once they reached the other end, they approached Flare, who was scribbling in a notepad with an inked claw. The Salazzle swayed her tail and said in an alluring air, “Ahh, I reckon you are new to this affair. Quite the cute additions, I say.”

“I want a battle,” Rhyzo demanded, paying attention to the cage behind Flare. “Are there any opponents to engage with?”

“Yes, hunk,” said Flare, winking at Rhyzo. “There is only one, but it’s none other than Ronin the Golisopod, one of the most unbeatable regulars of the Bonanza. He has lost only five battles over the last five years. That’s why nobody wants to empty their coffers to him.”

Rhyzo widened his eyes. A spar with an indomitable combatant was irresistible, but in this arena, money was a stake as pivotal as bragging rights. Maybe Ronin had scared away competitors with his winning streak alone. Nevertheless, Rhyzo was armed with his trusty Rock typing, confident in squishing the Golisopod with super effective attacks.

“No problem, Salazzle,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll gladly challenge that whopper and kick some glorious ass!”

“Excellent,” Flare smiled, putting a claw on her hip. “Your name?”

“Rhyzo.”

Flare wrote Rhyzo’s name in her notepad and gave an inviting smile. “Care for a victory nuzzle?”

Rhyzo grunted in indifference. “I’m not interested in females.”

Flare turned to Surge and stared into his large eyes. “Ahh, Lucario, you’re a perfect foil to Rhyzo. I like your baby face and delicate figure.”

Surge reared back, his muzzle fur standing on end. “Salazzle, I appreciate your compliments, but you unnerve me a bit. Would you please allow us some personal space?”

“If you’re the uptight type, I respect your boundaries. You’re not quite as stunning as Hado though. Are you and Rhyzo married?”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU MEAN?!” screamed Rhyzo, shooting a sharp glare at Flare. “We are most. Definitely. Not. Married.” How the Mewdamn hell can we?

Surge struggled to hold back his amusement at the sheer audacity of the question. “Me? Married to this Rhydon?” he teased, hiding his giggles. “An absolute hoax.” Rhyzo is a frontrunner for Worst Suitor of the Year. Even a shaken Shade relaxed a little under the commotion of Flare’s assumption.

“Stop making distracting comments and let me deal with that Ronin!” insisted Rhyzo, turning tail at Flare along with Surge and Shade.

To his pleasant surprise, the characteristic silver armor plates of a Golisopod’s back greeted him. Ecstatic, he called, “Hey, you must be Ronin, right? Your next opponent, the riveting Rhyzo, is here for a challenge!”

The Golisopod, who was seated on a crate, rose with an oddly graceful poise and turned to Rhyzo. He laid his scroll on the crate, took off his conical straw hat and made a reverent bow.

“Rhyzo the Rhydon,” Ronin addressed, his antennae firm. “When the majority is seeing me as a mountain that cannot be scaled, I am pleased by your offer to engage in a battle with me. Let us commence inside the cage.”

Forced to raise his head to meet the towering Golisopod’s cross-shaped pupils, Rhyzo cannot comprehend how this rugged, hulking arthropod possessed the manners of a haughty aristocrat. “Of course,” he replied, masking his incredulity. “You don’t need to practice those theatrics. Make it quick!”

As Rhyzo headed for the cage with his opponent, Surge watched them climb up its platform with Shade by his side. “Ronin’s a nice Pokémon,” Surge remarked. “He’s Rhyzo without the arrogance. Don’t you like him, Shade?”

Still reeling from her battle phobia, Shade stared at the ground. “I know.”

“It’s a shame he’s spending his life inside this wretched ring.” Surge looked at the illuminated ceiling. “He would understand our aversion to battles much more than Rhyzo ever will.”

Shade nodded in silence. She rubbed unshed tears off her right eye.

Surge’s heart pained to see the despondent Absol. She was unwilling to receive hugs or even simple paw holding. Her fear was too strong to wash away with kind words. If neither verbal nor physical support will make her better, then what can?

“Shade, look at me,” Surge whispered in a gentle tone. “Just look.”

Shade rolled her sagging right eye toward Surge.

“I hate battles as much as you, but we’re right now in a place we don’t like to be. However, Rhyzo will win and get the money we need. Therefore we’ll quit this awful den soon. By evening, we’ll use our earnings to kick back at an ice cream parlor. Do you entertain this idea?”

“What’s an ice cream?”

“It’s a kind of food. You love food, don’t you? I’ve seen you chomp that apple out of Rhyzo’s claw back at Apple Woods.”

“…Okay.”

A smile formed across Surge’s muzzle. Shade may not have been healed, but at least her emotions were settled down. His statement has quelled her uncertainty.

“Shade, I’ll shield your eye from every battle in the vicinity,” Surge assured. “We’ll stand under the cage together and avoid those horrible blows.”

Shade gave another nod, this time making eye contact with him.

As Shade clawed her way back to sanity, Surge anticipated the clash between Rhyzo and Ronin. Ronin was the more likable opponent, but Team Venture’s livelihoods depended on Rhyzo’s performance. Rock was about to meet carapace in a battle for economic stability.

---